A Short Biography of
St. Teresa Margaret
Her Early Life
St. Teresa Margaret was born Anna Maria Redi on July 15, 1747
to a large, loving Catholic family in Arezzo, Italy. She was baptized the
following day, the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel by V.R. Canon John Baptist,
the brother of her father. Her Godfather was Cardinal Henry Enriquez. She was a
beautiful child with clear blue eyes, golden hair and delicate features which
might have caused one anticipate for her a future as the lady of a manor and a
life of leisure.
Her father Ignatius and her mother Camille were of the lower Tuscan nobility but
were not overly wealthy. Anna Maria was the second of thirteen children. Her
mother bore twelve children in fourteen years. The last two were twins who lived
only a few weeks. Three other children also died in infancy. After a gap of six
years the last child, Teresa was born. This child was given Anna Maria's name in
Carmel. Anna Maria (St. Teresa Margaret) had died six years before little Teresa’s birth.
Camille did not have a strong constitution and the strain of childbirth left her
a semi-invalid. As the oldest girl, Anna Maria was entrusted with the
supervision of the older of her little siblings while her mother was busy in the
nursery. Her father said of Anna Maria that she had a fiery temperament and she
was not above getting physical to maintain control over her little charges.
Her father testified that he could clearly see that from the age of five, Anna
Maria had given her heart completely to God and she used all her facilities to
know and to love Him. In later years she told her confessor simply that “from
infancy I have never longed for anything other than to become a saint.”
“Who is God?” she asked her mother, her father, her aunt… The answers she
received from the adults around her never fully satisfied her. People told her
about God, what God is, not who God is. When her mother told her one day that
God is love, Anna Maria lit up with joy. This answer at last gave her some
satisfaction. But then she wondered, “What can I do to please Him?” From this
moment her inexhaustible quest to love God as He loved her had begun. It is
touching to note that when this childhood zeal was brought up to her, she
replied in innocence “But everyone does that”.
Anna Maria’s parents were serious and pious. The family circle was warm and
loving. Family prayer and daily Mass were an integral part of their lives. It
appears that Camilla would have liked more social life in the villa but Ignatius
would have seen that as a waste of resources and time.
The Redi villa was an ideal home for a child with a religious disposition and it
is probably not an accident that all but one of the eight surviving children
entered religious life or the priesthood. The large comfortable house had
inspiring murals of the crusades on the walls of the entrance hall. The bedrooms
contained religious art. A striking fresco of the Assumption was on the ceiling
of Camilla’s room. Anna Maria’s bedroom had its own altar where she spent hours
in prayer, after bribing the young ones with holy cards if they would leave her
in peace. Sometimes they would creep back to observe her absorbed in prayer. Her
brother Cecchino recorded that he thought she looked like a little Madonna.
The villa contained beautiful gardens and orchards. Anna Maria could be found in
the corner of the gardens looking toward heaven and “thinking”. Close to the
house was a chapel. It was decorated simply with frescos from episodes in the
life St. Francis of Assisi. Anna Maria took St. Francis as her patron and was
inspired by him with a love of poverty.
Although it was a peaceful and prosperous home, the children were not permitted
to be idle. They were expected to spend their leisure time constructively. Anna
Maria learned sewing and knitting and she was sometimes found knitting a simple
object while completely absorbed in prayer.
At the age of seven Anna Maria made her first Confession. At that time first
Confession preceded first Communion by several years. She was very attracted to
the sacrament and prepared for it carefully and received it often. A
conversation which took place while returning from Church and recorded by her
father gives an idea of her attitude towards the sacrament.
“I have been thinking about the text that was preached on Sunday, the
unforgiving servant. We come to the great King of Heaven with empty hands, in
debt to Him for everything: life itself, and grace, and all the gifts He
lavishes on us. Yet all we can say is, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay
thee all I owe,’ while all the time we could never pay anything towards the
remission of our own debts, if God did not put into our hands the means to do
so. And then, how often do we go away and refuse pardon for some slight fault in
our neighbors, withholding our love, remaining aloof, or even nursing a
grievance against them, and building up grudges that cool charity.”
After this conversation, Ignatius, who already appreciated the piety of this
child, felt certain that God was calling Anna Maria in a special way. From that
point on he began to provide her with true spiritual direction appropriate to
her understanding. It was Ignatius who introduced Anna Maria to the devotion to
the Sacred Heart, a devotion which became one of the central focuses of her
spiritual life. The love of this father and daughter grew deeper as their
profound spiritual confidences expanded the already deep familial affection. As
an adult, Sr. Teresa Margaret would say “So great was the good my father has
done to my soul that I can truly claim that he has been my father twice over”.
It is a tender irony that in aiding the rapid spiritual growth of this most
beloved daughter Ignatius was preparing the path that would take her away from
St. Apollonia’s Boarding School
At the age of nine, Anna Maria was sent to the boarding school
of the Benedictine nuns of St. Apollonia’s in Florence. While other families of
their status thought educating their daughters was a waste of money, the Redi
family was determined to do so. His decision to provide the best of educations
for Anna Maria and her three sisters as well as for his four sons forced
Ignatius to tighten the family budget. One of their sacrifices was to give up
the family coach. This was not only a sacrifice in convenience but also in
status. A coach was a mark of a family’s situation but Ignatius was not moved by
such considerations. Young Anna Maria was deeply impressed by this sacrifice and
urged her older brother to be very diligent in his studies in response to this
St. Apollonia’s boarding school, being Benedictine, was simple, austere and
unadorned. It was quite a change from the lush sun-drenched Redi villa. But Anna
Maria had wanted to attend St. Apollonia’s because she heard that one could
better serve God there.
The daily life of the school was likewise simple and austere following in many
ways that of the nuns themselves. Each pupil had her own room, the day was
regulated by the sound of a bell, and meals were taken in silence or with the
reading aloud from a good book. The course of studies was more in the line of a
finishing school rather than one of rigorous academics. Even so, Anna Maria had
some difficulty with her studies, especially Latin and mathematics and it was
only with regard to her studies that she was ever found lacking. She was scolded
for being lazy although she did apply herself to the work. Otherwise the nuns
considered her modest, cheerful and obedient and it was clear that Anna Maria
was very happy at the school.
She passed her years at school appearing little different from her classmates.
Yet Anna Maria was already working on a method of perfection which was to last
all her life and take her to the heights of sanctity.
Aside from the noise of her younger brothers and sisters, it was easy enough at
home to slip away unnoticed and spend hours in prayer and meditation to which
she was called at a very early age. At home she could spend time with her holy
cards or alone and in thought in the corner of the garden. She could pursue her
program of holiness without arousing the curiosity of those around her. The
environment at school was quite different. It would be difficult to continue her
practices without calling attention to herself yet she was determined to
continue her spiritual progress while not appearing to be different from any
At the age of ten, Anna Maria was developing a well-balanced program for her
spiritual life. She saw the necessity of exterior conformity to all the
directions of her teachers and the practices of her classmates all the while
striving quietly for sanctity. Her method was to hide herself. She would shun
anything which would appear singular or attract attention. She would appear no
different than any other student, or better yet, she would pass unnoticed while
her interior life flourished.
There were two reasons Anna Maria wanted to keep her interior life hidden.
First, she understood from an early age that “the merits of a good action can
diminish when exposed to the eyes of others who, by their praise or approval,
give us satisfaction or at least flatter our self-love and pride too much; and
that therefore it is necessary to be content to have God alone.” The second
reason was in order to imitate the hidden life of the Holy Family. This singular
family appeared to the folk of the little village of Nazareth to be no different
from any other. This was Anna Maria’s goal.
But she needed help in carrying out her program especially after making her
First Communion. The nuns allowed her to make her First Communion on the Feast
of the Assumption, one month after her tenth birthday and a year earlier than
usual. Though she tried to hide her piety, the nuns had noticed her devout and
recollected attitude in prayer. They noticed her joy in the presence of the
Tabernacle and the deep sighs which escaped while she gazed upon it. Sometimes
tears betrayed her emotions as the older children went to receive the Blessed
Sacrament. And so the good sisters moved up the date for her First Communion.
From that day she continually experienced movements of love which impelled her
to try to live a more holy life. Yet she feared others would notice if she
intensified her devotional exercises and this went against her determination to
remain hidden. She did not want to turn to the regular confessor of the school
for advice for the same reasons. Any extended time in the confessional would
arouse curiosity. In her need, she turned to the one she called twice her
father; and so started an extraordinary correspondence with Ignatius Redi. He
remained her spiritual director for the next five years until, as the result of
a retreat, she came under the direction of Dom Peter Pellegrini. It is a great
loss for us that Ignatius, obedient to her wishes, burned each of Anna Maria’s
letters after reading it.
Dom Pellegrini had great confidence in Anna Maria’s piety, disposition for the
religious life and love of God. He immediately endeavored to help her “to soar
in the way of God”. He gave her good reading material and helped her to make
rapid progress in mental prayer and the virtues.
It is a mark of Anna Maria’s intelligence that she succeeded in her almost
contradictory goals, extraordinary growth in holiness while appearing to be just
like all the rest. The proof of her success can be found on the one hand, in the
permission her confessor gave her to receive Communion as often as the nuns, and
on the other, by the general opinion of her held by her classmates and most
teachers that she was a good, but more or less ordinary girl.
At the age of sixteen as her time at St. Apollonia was coming to an end, Anna
Maria was finding it difficult to make a decision regarding her future. She felt
drawn to the religious life and loved the Benedictine nuns at St. Apollonia yet
there was something missing. A very strange and singular incident put Anna Maria
on the path to Carmel.
One day a distant acquaintance of Anna Maria, Cecilia Albergotti, who was about
to enter Carmel, paid a farewell visit to St. Apollonia. She told Anna Maria she
wished to speak to her but the time passed and there was no opportunity to do
so. However, as she was leaving Cecilia took Anna Maria’s hand and looked at her
intently, saying nothing. Anna Maria walked back to her room with a strange
feeling inside. Suddenly she heard the words “I am Teresa of Jesus, and I want
you among my daughters.” Confused and a bit frightened, she went to the chapel
and knelt before the Blessed Sacrament. She heard the words again.
Now convinced of the authenticity of the locution, she determined at that moment
to enter Carmel and started immediately making plans to leave the school. She
was only home for a few months when preparations were made for her application
to the Carmel in Florence. She entered on September 1, 1764 a few weeks after
her seventeenth birthday taking the name Teresa Margaret of the Heart of Jesus.
Entrance into Carmel
The community she entered contained thirteen professed nuns
and two novices. The religious observance in the convent was excellent and
Teresa Margaret always had high regard for the nuns there whom she called angels
or great saints. She always, to her last day, felt unworthy to be among them.
From her first days in Carmel it was obvious to her superiors that she was an
unusually mature and capable young woman. Because of her spiritual maturity she
was treated severely by the novice mistress, Mother Teresa Maria, for the
purposes of aiding her growth. Although Teresa Margaret exercised complete
control over her actions and attitudes, her fair complexion which blushed bright
red often gave away the interior battle she waged to maintain this control.
The period of postulancy was usually three months but it was extended one month
because she developed an abscess on her knee. The ailment required surgery to
scrape the infection away from the bone. This was done without anesthesia and
the nuns marveled at her courage. Teresa Margaret however chided herself when a
small whimper escaped her during the cutting. She feared that this ailment might
cause the nuns not to accept her into the novitiate but there was no cause to
worry. The nuns had found her spiritually mature, obedient, with a sweet and
gentle nature. They considered her a gift and a true daughter of St. Teresa. She
was accepted by a unanimous vote.
It was the custom at the time for the candidate to make a brief return to the
world to consider once more the life she was leaving behind. Teresa Margaret
visited again with members of her family and spent precious time with her
father. There was no doubt now that their next parting would be forever. If
anything could have kept Teresa Margaret from retuning to the Carmel, it would
have been the pain she was causing her father. When Ignatius brought her back to
the convent those around her were alarmed at her pallor. That evening she
confided in her superior, Mother Anna Maria “I do not think that it is possible
for me ever to suffer greater pain than that which I experienced in leaving my
father.” She wept copious tears that night to the point of alarming Mother Anna
Maria and causing her to wonder how Teresa Margaret had kept her composure
through the day.
The next day Teresa Margaret was composed and radiant. Her father however was
overcome and moved to a back corner of the church unable to watch the clothing
ceremony. Later in the afternoon he was able to visit with her in the parlor. He
could see her flooded with the peace the world cannot give and a joy no earthly
pleasure can produce. He left her with an emptiness his other children could
never fill yet he was at peace and thankful to God for the gift of this
The duties of the novices were general housekeeping and various small tasks
needed by the community. But even as a novice, Teresa Margaret started the work
that would take most of her time and energy for the rest of her years in Carmel;
that of caring for the sick. Of the thirteen professed nuns, nine were elderly
and often ill. Teresa Margaret started by assisting the aged novice mistress
prepare for bed each night. She then took on the care of an ailing novice. More
and more she spent any free time assisting the infirmarian in caring for one or
the other of the seriously ill nuns. Some times she would move into the room of
a sick sister to provide care during the night. Aside from the required periods
of prayer Teresa Margaret gave her self to physical labor. Her work went far
beyond what was required or expected.
A year after her clothing Teresa Margaret was scheduled to be professed. The
abscess on her knee reappeared. She wondered if this might be a sign that she
was mistaken, that she did not have a vocation after all. She brought her doubts
before God with simplicity and humility desiring only the will of God whatever
it might be. The abscess disappeared. When the time came for her profession,
with honest feelings of unworthiness she asked to be professed as a simple lay
Sister. This was not allowed but she kept this humble attitude all through her
life in Carmel and often helped the lay sisters at their tasks. No duty was too
lowly for her.
Theresa Margaret lived only four years after her Profession. For two years she
served as assistant sacristan but never gave up her work among the sick. She was
finally named assistant infirmarian though she had been doing the job all along.
She loved this job and the constant charity it demanded for she stated “love of
neighbor consists in service.” Although “assistant” she soon was in fact
exercising full responsibility for the infirmary. She was young and strong and
seemed to thrive on the hard work. During her years of service, in spite of her
continued determination to keep hidden her gifts and graces, remarkable
incidences occurred: the miraculous healing which occurred after Teresa
Margaret, filled with compassion, kissed a sister weeping in pain; her ability
to converse with a deaf nun with whom no one else could communicate; various
cures which, though not miraculous were at the least unusual; and her uncanny
ability to know when a patient needed her no matter where in the monastery she
Her Interior Life
Teresa Margaret had a rich, active interior life. The first
tenant, as has been mentioned, was to remain hidden, to keep her gifts and
graces hidden from all but her Lord while appearing quite ordinary to the world.
In her desire to prove her love to God, she practiced severe penances; sleeping
on the floor, using a hairshirt, leaving windows open in the winter and closed
in the summer, taking the discipline, etc. There was nothing masochistic in
these practices. She wanted to discipline her body and unite herself to the
suffering Christ. For her, suffering was a way of repaying love for love. As she
grew she modified these practices and took as her motto “Always receive with
equal contentment from God’s hand either consolations or sufferings, peace or
distress, health or illness. Ask nothing, refuse nothing, but always be ready to
do and to suffer anything that comes from His Providence.”
Her daily spiritual exercises were simple. She determined to present a smiling
and serene exterior no matter how severe her interior and exterior trials. She
practiced the art of never doing her own will for she believed that “she who
does not know how to conform her will to that of others will never be perfect.”
She would never offer an excuse for a fault or defend herself when falsely
accused. She wrote that “everything can be reduced to interior movements, where
the constant exercise of abnegation is essential.” She believed that God would
be found when God alone is sought. To that end she made the following
resolution: “I propose to have no other purpose in all my activities, either
interior or exterior, than the motive of love alone, by constantly asking
myself: ‘Now what am I doing in this action? Do I love God?’ If I should notice
any obstacle to pure love, I shall take myself in hand and recall that I must
seek to return my love for His love.” As for love of neighbor, she determined to
“sympathize with their troubles, excuse their faults, always speak well of them,
and never willing fail in charity in thought, word or deed”.
All these little practices seem to be no more than what any good Christian
should be doing. How simple and un-heroic they are. Yet to spend even one day in
the minute by minute application of them would be more than most could
hope to accomplish.
One Sunday in choir, Teresa Margaret was given a particular grace to understand
the deep meaning of the love of God. While the community was reciting Terce, the
words “Deus caritus est” (God is Love, I John 4:8) were read and it seemed to her she heard
them for the first time. She was flooded with an elevated understanding of these
words that seemed to be a new revelation. Despite the fact that she tried
carefully to hide this sudden grace, all around her were aware something out of
the ordinary had happened. These words occasioned a mystical experience which
transformed her knowledge of God.
For the next few days the words “God Is Love” were constantly on her lips as she
went about her duties. She appeared so out of herself that the Carmelite
Provincial was brought in to examine her to see if she were suffering from
“melancholy”. After examining her he responded: “I would indeed very happily see
every sister in this community afflicted with such ‘melancholy’ as that of
Sister Teresa Margaret!” It was only later that the community came to attribute
her “faraway look” to her habitual awareness of the presence of God and His
continual operations in her.
Night of the Spirit
This grace was however to start a great spiritual trial for
Teresa Margaret. She had always found it impossible to return to God “love for
love” as she desired. Now that she had a mystical experience of the love of God
the abyss between God’s love for her and her ability to return that love
sufficiently became a source of increasing torment to her.
In a series of letters to her spiritual director Fr. Ildephonse she wrote: “I am
telling you in strict confidence, sure of your discretion that I find myself in
pain because I am not doing anything to correspond to the demands of love. I
feel that I am continually being reproached by my Sovereign Good and yet, I am
very sensitive to the slightest movement contrary to the love and knowledge of
Him. I do not see, I do not feel, I do not understand anything interiorly or
exteriorly which could impel me to love … no one can imagine how terrible it is
to live without any love when one is actually burning with the desire for it.”
“This is a torture to me, let alone the fact that it requires such an effort to
apply myself to the things of God,” she confessed later. “I fear that God is
very displeased with my Communions; it seems that I have no desire to ask His
help because of the great coldness which I experience ... It is the same with
prayer and, of course, in all the other spiritual exercises. I am continually
making good resolutions but I never succeed in attaining some way of
successfully overcoming these obstacles which stand in my way and prevent me
from throwing myself at His feet.”
“The tempest has become extremely violent and I feel myself being so knocked
about that I scarcely know what to do if this continues. Everywhere there is
darkness and danger. My soul is so dark that the very things which used to
afford me some spiritual consolation are only a source of torture to me ... I
must do violence to myself in order to perform each interior and exterior
spiritual exercise ... Finding myself in this state of supreme weariness I
commit many failings at each step ... My mind is in such turmoil that it is open
to temptations of every sort, especially to those of despair ... I have a great
fear of offending God grievously ... I see that I do wrong and at the same time
try to follow the inspiration to do good and then I feel remorse for my
infidelity; and to top it all, I am not succeeding in conquering myself because
my repugnance is so great ...”
“The cruelest torturer of her soul,” wrote Fr. Ildephonse, “was her love which,
in the very same measure that it increased – hid itself from the eyes of her
spirit. She loved, yet believed she did not; in the measure love grew in her
soul, in the same measure augmented the desire of loving and the pain of
thinking that she did not love.” He was convinced that she was at the stage of
Spiritual Marriage. When he later heard of her sudden and unexpected death he
remarked “she could not have lived very much longer so great was the strength of
the love of God in her.”
It is suspected that Teresa Margaret had a premonition of her
death. After obtaining permission from Fr. Ildephonse, she made a pack with Sr.
Adelaide, an elderly nun she was caring for. The pact was that when she died,
Sr. Adelaide would ask God “to permit Sister Teresa Margaret to join her quickly
in order that she may love Him without hindrance for all eternity and be fully
united with the fount of divine charity.” Shortly after the death of Sr.
Adelaide, Teresa Margaret was indeed with God. It is likely that the cause of
Teresa Margaret’s death was a strangulated hernia. It is probable that it was in lifting the heavy, inert body of Sister Adelaide that she
strained herself causing the hernia. If so, it was a delightful seal to their
In mid-February, 1770, Teresa Margaret wrote her last letter to her father, in
which she begged that he begin a novena to the Sacred Heart at once for a most
pressing intention of hers.
On March 4th she asked Father Ildefonse to allow her to make a general
confession, as though it were to be the last of her life, and to receive
Communion the following morning in the same dispositions. Whether or not she had
any presentiment that this was indeed to be her Viaticum one cannot know; but in
fact it was. She was only twenty-two years old and in excellent health, yet it
appears she was making preparations for her death.
On the evening of March 6th Teresa Margaret arrived late to dinner from her work
in the infirmary. She ate the light Lenten meal alone. As she was returning to
her room, she collapsed from violent abdominal spasms. She was put to bed and
the doctor was called. He diagnosed a bout of colic, painful but not serious.
Teresa Margaret did not sleep at all during the night, and she tried to lie
still so as not to disturb those in the adjoining cells. The following morning
she seemed to have taken a slight turn for the better
But when the doctor returned he recognized that her internal organs were
paralyzed and ordered a surgeon for a bleeding. Her foot was cut and a bit of
congealed blood oozed out. The doctor was alarmed and recommended that she
should receive the Last Sacraments right away. The infirmarian however, felt
that this was not necessary, and was reluctant to send for a priest because of
the patient’s continued vomiting. In addition, Sister Teresa Margaret’s pain
appeared to have lessened. The priest was not called.
Teresa Margaret offered no comment, nor did she ask for the Last Sacraments. She
seemed to have had a premonition of this when making her last Communion “as
Viaticum”. She held her crucifix in her hands, from time to time pressing her
lips to the five wounds, and invoking the names of Jesus and Mary, otherwise she
continued to pray and suffer, as always, in silence.
By 3 p.m. her strength was almost exhausted, and her face had assumed an
alarmingly livid hue. Finally a priest was called. He had time only to anoint
her before she took her flight to God. She remained silent and uncomplaining to
the end, with her crucifix pressed to her lips and her head slightly turned
towards the Blessed Sacrament. The community was stunned. Less than twenty-four
hours earlier she had been full of life and smiling serenely as she went about
her usual duties.
Teresa Margaret had attempted all her life to remain hidden.
In many ways she succeeded. But upon her death, the veil over her exalted
sanctity was lifted by God Himself.
The condition of Teresa Margaret’s body was such that the nuns feared it would
decay before proper funeral rites could be accomplished. Her face was
discolored, her extremities were black, the body already bloated and stiff. When
her body was prepared and laid out in the choir later in the day, it was almost
unrecognizable to the sisters who had lived with her for the last five years.
Her funeral was held the following day and plans were made for her immediate
burial. When she was moved into the vault however, everyone noticed that a
change had taken place in the body. The blue-black discoloration of her face was
much less noticeable. The community decided to postpone the burial. A few hours
later a second examination showed that the entire body had regained its natural
color. The nuns were consoled to see the lovely face of Teresa Margaret looking
just as they had known her.
They begged the Provincial’s permission to leave her unburied until the next
day, a request which he, dumbfounded at this astonishing reversal of natural
processes, readily granted. The final burial of the body was arranged for the
evening of the 9th of March, fifty-two hours after her death. By that time her
skin tint was as natural as when alive and in full health, and the limbs, which
had been so rigid that dressing her in the habit had been a difficult task, were
flexible and could now be moved with ease.
This was all so unprecedented that the coffin was permitted to remain open. The
nuns, the Provincial, several priests and doctors all saw and testified to the
fact that the body was as lifelike as if she were sleeping, and there was not
the least visible evidence of corruption or decay. Her face regained its healthy
appearance; there was color in her cheeks. Mother Victoria, who had received the
profession of this young nun, suggested that a portrait should be painted before
the eventual burial. This was unanimously agreed to, and Anna Piattoli, a
portrait painter of Florence, was taken down to the crypt to capture forever the
features that now in death looked totally life-like.
The Carmel burial vault was a scene of much coming and going during these days,
and had assumed anything but a mournful atmosphere. By the time the painting was
completed, a strange fragrance was detected about the crypt. The flowers that
still remained near the bier had withered. But the fragrance persisted, and grew
in strength, pervading the whole chamber. And then, miles away in Arezzo her
mother Camilla also became aware of an elusive perfume which noticeably clung to
certain parts of the house.
During the next two weeks several doctors and ecclesial authorities came to the
crypt to examine the body. As the days continued to pass the body regained more
and more the characteristics of a living being. The Archbishop of Florence came
on March 21 to make his own examination. The body was now totally subtle. Her
bright blue eyes could be seen under lids slightly opened. Finally a little
moisture collected on her upper lip. It was wiped off with a piece of cloth and
rendered a “heavenly fragrance”. The Archbishop declared: “Extraordinary!
Indeed, it is a miracle to see a body completely flexible after death, the eyes
those of a living person, the complexion that of one in the best of health. Why,
even the soles of her feet appear so lifelike that she might have been walking
about a few minutes ago. She appears to be asleep. There is no odor of decay,
but on the contrary a most delightful fragrance. Indeed, it is the odor of
Teresa Margaret was finally buried eighteen days after her death. The report of
miracles attributed to her intercession began immediately. Thirty-five years
later, on June 21, 1805, the Feast of the Sacred Heart, the incorrupt body of
St. Teresa Margaret was transferred to the nuns’ choir in the Carmel of Florence
where it remains to this day.
edited on 13 Dec 2009