LYDWINE was born at Schiedam, in Holland, on Palm Sunday, April 18, 1380, while the Passion was being chanted in church.  They christened her Lydwine, which means "suffering much," and thus a single word foretold the story of her life.  The child at twelve dedicated body and soul to God, and then, lest men should think of marrying her, prayed God to spoil the charms of her exceeding beauty.  Her prayer was more than granted.  At fifteen she fell while skating on the ice.  The hurt she received kept her in the bed, from which she never rose, except in ecstasy, for thirty years.  Soon every limb was in torture.  Her head and left arm only could be moved.  Her face became hideous with sores.  Her body, eaten with worms, would literally have fallen to pieces if not tied together.  For years she ate no food.  Crowds came to stare at her.  Drunken soldiers mocked and even brutally struck her.  A bad woman spat in her face.  Her very friends, through neglect, left her once with a heap of red-hot coals in contact with her helpless feet.  Meanwhile her poor hovel was an apostolate of charity and a paradise of joy.  Her few meek words softened hard hearts, healed quarrels and wrought miracles of grace, until on Easter Tuesday, 14th of April, 1433 her wondrous sacrifice was complete, and her beloved Spouse took her to her everlasting home.