Here is a man, forty years old, with a mother whom he respects and venerates. In spite of his own absorbing occupations, he visits her every day for exactly half an hour. He talks as a son should about this and that, always going away at the same hour and returning the next day at the stroke of the clock. More cannot be demanded of him, and from a mother's point of view one could wish that all men did at least as much.

That is a picture of the beginning of the life of prayer—each day the Christian making his or her meditation, and following a method point by point—this is necessary at the beginning. It is already something, but that something is only a beginning, although there are those who think they are doing wonders with their fine thoughts and meditations.

Let us suppose then that the person remains faithful, and that God increases his grace. Oh, how young the soul becomes! It is no longer like a man of forty giving just half-an-hour each day to his mother.