As we walked through Place Jacques Cartier early Sunday morning, we stopped for breakfast at one of the trendy sidewalk cafes. A shrewd head was needed to calculate the stores and provisions to be laid in for such a hard-working, huge-eating crowd, a tireless frame to cook for them, a strong back to serve them. It is a letter which Zoe kept and put to good use in saving her older sister from a terrible mistake years later. Lawrence River and the countryside beyond. Not that she organized the games and everyone played them her way, or else. God is not a wastrel, lavishing the miraculous without reason.
It is possible that Antoine and Marguerite Jeanrot seemed slipshod when measured against the unyielding discipline of Pierre Laboure, but who is to say which view lay closer to the rule of the angels? Zoe Laboure, therefore, was to the manner born. The Laboures had relatives in the village of Cormarin, and every year these cousins would invite the whole Laboure family to join them for the patronal feast of the village. In her billowing blue gown and white headdress she walks the boulevards, the back streets, the alleys. Here, in this country beauty, Zoe spent the years and Charles learned the catering trade. He entered the seminary in his teens but, after a few years, gave up the idea of the priesthood and took to farming.
In one house of the village of Fain-les-moutiers no one paused for the evening prayer. The change would be good for everyone, because of the tension in the house. Until now life had been good on the Laboure farm. Sister Catherine Soucial and Zoe were fast friends. The housework was enormous: The violence of the Revolution reached Chatillon in , and the Sisters were driven out. The Sisters did not mind.
It was a life that sat well with her father, for it was a life very like his own. Jeanne Gontard Laboure was a cousin of Zoe's mother. You will be given a waiter who will take you to a table. Probably the shadow of the coming Revolution gave Pierre Laboure pause in his leanings toward the priesthood and, after an honest searching of his soul, he decided that God had other plans for him. Some kind of a family conspiracy was hatched to rescue her, for letters went off in the mail. She went right on building upon these foundations, laying prayer on prayer and devotion on devotion like so many bricks. Jeanne could twist her father-in-law around her little finger.