** In the Palm of God **

Date:   2/19/2018 9:03:20 PM ( 6 y ago)

Genvièv Martin Bernard
January 23 at 9:10pm · Beaverton, OR ·

In the Palm of God

When I was a little girl, I was sent to do my 1st communion pilgrimage in the Monastery of Notre Dame de Laghet. Nestled at the foot of the Mediterranean Alps, the ancient baroque convent dates back to 1652.

Shortly after check in, one of my classmates erupted in violent tears. Asked what the problem was, she replied she was given a cot, all alone in the attic, under the roofs of the convent, and could not sleep there by herself. The superintendent responded abruptly she would have to make do, explaining this was the only bed left, as all cots in the dormitories had been taken.

When you are familiar with pain, fear and distress, you feel the emotions of others around you as deeply as if they were your own. Standing by is no longer an option. I raised my hand. "What, Martin!?" the superintendent barked impatiently. "You have a problem too?" "No, Sir," I responded. "I'll take her bed, and give her mine in the dormitory..." I offered. "Why would you do that?" he asked. "Well, Sir, she's clearly in fear..."

Later that night, as I slipped into the tiny cot, all alone under the roofs of the convent, I wondered if I, too, would be afraid. In the darkness, I listened to the squeaks, rattles and cracks of the old wood and stone structure.

Eventually, I fell asleep. Later that night, something happened that changed the rest of my path. In the midst of my sleep, I suddenly found myself flooded by liquid love, the depth, warmth, light and intensity of which I had never before encountered. I felt held, shielded, nurtured, within infinite all-encompassing love, all alone in my tiny cot, under the roofs of the ancient convent.

You can't put something like this into words, but this infinite loving presence and protection from above has continued walking by my side through every step of my journey.

It was with me through endless drastic accidents, diseases, shattered bones, skull fractures, violent attacks and devastating betrayals. Whether I was dying from dysentery alone in Mexico at 17 years old, or in the hyperbolic chamber of Nice, being treated for decompression after deep sea diving accidents, through motorcycle crashes, equestrian falls, plane crashes, extreme skiing accidents, and the list goes on.

At my weakest, in most unbearable pain, my call is always the same... "Open the gates, Seigneur, please let me in, I am exhausted, I need to rest..." but the love always comes down instead, no matter how desperate my plea.

This last week was the crossing of hell. When I was wheeled into the Emergency Department of Saint Vincent Hospital, my body had already been emptying itself viciously for almost 24 hours. Folded in half in excruciating pain, shaken by constant vomiting, I still was far from expecting the reaction I encountered from the medical teams who rushed to my rescue.

My blood pressure crashing, my white blood cell count through the roof, a burning fever that wouldn't relent, I was told I was very ill and had to be admitted.

The initial suspicion was toxic shock introduced via bacterial infection into my bloodstream. I was then told the infection had already spread to organs that needed to be removed at once. Nearly wheeled in surgery as I pleaded for someone to stop and think before removing organs from my body. I'm an athlete. I am strong, healthy. I trusted my organs not to fail this fast.

With tubes coming out of my arms and hands, IV fluids running heavily, flooded with morphine, massive doses of antibiotics to attempt killing the rampant infection, anti-nausea medications, injected with iodine and radio-active liquids, and surrounded by armies of medical experts attempting to understand what was happening in my body, I crossed unspeakable terror.

Not from fear of dying. Dying is easy. What is not is facing the consequences expecting me if I did not.

So as I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I did fear all evil ... Ye of little faith ... For I am simply human ... Just a girl from Monte-Carlo, exhausted by the difficulty and adversity of her journey through life ...

And yet, never abandoned by this magnificent Love from Above, that has shielded and sheltered me through every step of my journey ...

As I stumbled on my knees, from the E.R. bathroom, folded in half, crawling and moaning in excruciating pain before being admitted, losing blood and vomiting, a cleaning lady from Latin America approached me.

Placing a hand on my shoulder, she looked deep into my eyes and said: "God is with you. You are not alone. Your health will be restored. God will give you back your health." The fever, the pain ... all I could do was look into her eyes and attempt a smile. Looking back at me, her gaze held mine with undeniable conviction and loving strength.

In the following days, my dearest friend the Bishop, having heard the news, rushed to my side with his aids. Pouring blessed anointed oil onto my forehead, he held a Priesthood Blessing, asking for protection and for my health to be returned, with the Grace of God, so I could continue on my mission and path to serve and heal others.

A wonderful surgeon appeared out of nowhere, and kneeling at my bedside with infinite intelligence, kindness, compassion and understanding, listened to my plea to not remove organs unless there were no other options. With the surgical team on my side, I was finally heard, understood and protected.

I taught a bright 11 year-old young man, along with his sister and father, to hover their hands over my belly. The four of us focusing our energies into piercing through the illusion of the matter, into the molecular realm, to blast the deadly infection at its core.

Here again, embracing the words of Jesus Christ when he said "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." As we held our focus silently, my eyes closed, my body still, in fever, in my hospital bed, I felt myself falling backward endlessly. Crashing, arms open, into my beloved native Mediterranean sea, as I used to when I rolled back at speed from our dive boats.

Only my body floated down, arms open, chest up, sinking endlessly. I felt the salty water rush through my nostrils and enter my lungs. The familiar burn. The endless falling. Letting go. At peace. Relinquishing control.

We held our focus for some time. Sweet team holding the strength of their common intention over my weakened frame. I was at peace, returned home, to the depth of my beloved Mediterranean Sea.

Then I became aware of being launched back toward the surface at full speed from the depth, as if I had just bounced against the soft terrain, eventually piercing upright through the surface, like our no-limit free-divers do, their depth Gage held high above their head in a victorious fist.

After a week in the hospital, my vitals returned to healthy levels. The fever resolved.
My blood pressure stabilized. My white blood cell count returned to normal. The infection is still affecting some of my organs, but I was released from the hospital and returned to the Manor to recover at home.

Through this terrifying experience, I was surrounded by so much love, from so many, my heart continues overflowing.

Thank you for all your caring messages from all over the world. For your prayers, kindness and concerns. For all my friends texting me in the hospital finding ways to make me laugh at the worst of times.

For the loving support of my dearest friend Bishop Robert Johnson, whose faith never falters and generosity never ends. For the kind presence of the friends who rushed to my side, dropping everything in their lives to surround me. Jesi's Ty, who had the brilliant idea to find the most luxurious ice pack ever seen, to place under my burning head, bringing such relief.

Mary, who held my hand through so many vicious vein piercing attempts, and launched out loud before the entire medical staff as I was rolled into another series of CT scans, MRI and ultrasounds: "Go show them what a beautiful woman's body looks like!" getting me to laugh on my gurney.

The kiddos, Broggie Bear and Haydie Kay, for their endless sweetness, proactive presence and wonderful support. And Tyson who was simply amazing.

Last but certainly not least, my heart is filled with gratitude for the magnificent depth of medical care I received from every one at Providence Saint Vincent's Hospital ... Second to none ... Thank you ...
From the bottom of my heart.

God's Love is with us Always!

***
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