Georgette Faniel writes Autopsy of my soul at the request of her spiritual director, Father Armand Girard m.s.a. The expression is well chosen, because this introspection, begun on May 1^st, 1998, is a real death for her. In about fifty pages, she recounts the first forty years of her life. Being too ill to continue, she will continue orally with Suzanne Dignard taking notes. "It's strange, isn't it? Autopsy of the soul in an 82-year-old body! ». This document, with its ironic title, is still very important, because it tells us a lot about his parents and his early years.  

Mimi is a good storyteller, but the style is often heavy. If there are also a few repetitions, there are words of humour that make you smile and reveal your balance. She does not like introspection, preferring to live the present moment with God. We feel that this request from his spiritual director is weighing on him. For example, she notes that one Sunday evening, Bishop Beaudry called her from the Collège de l'Assomption to inform her of the death of Father Pleau. “This is a very great ordeal for me, no more director of conscience.” It is nevertheless surprising that she claims that she no longer has a director of conscience, since Father Gamache is still alive, but he was far away and the meetings with Father Pleau were providential.   

The year 1999 marks the end of his spiritual notes, which began about fifty years ago with Father Gamache. These last texts, written during Lent, are perhaps the most beautiful of his notes. We quickly notice the change in style and content of Autopsy of my soul, which it will never end.

N.B. Mimi will be 83 on the 8^th of July 1998

– Mimi: Out of obedience, I must write a part of my life, that is, make the autopsy of my soul. Strange, isn’t it?...

Autopsy of the soul in a body of 82...! This soul has a great love for the Eternal Father, without forgetting Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the saints and the angels.

Origins

My father was born in Belgium and was decorated Knight of the Order of Leopold II, King of Belgium. He was an artist painter and brought a lot through his art to Canada. My paternal grandfather whose name was Jacques Noël Faniel died at the age of 68 on the 8^th of November 1910 in Verviers, in the province of Liège, Belgium. My grandmother whose name was Marie-Hélène Paris died at the age of 67 on the 26^th of Juin 1909 in Verviers. Seven children were born from their marriage, 5 boys and two girls. A boy named Victor became a missionary and another, Alfred, became my father.

My father who lived in Belgium came to Canada in order to become a priest. Deep in his heart, he wanted to become a Jesuit. When he arrived in Canada, he was admitted to the novitiate at Sault-au-Récollet. After a year, his spiritual director told him that he didn’t have all the ingredients to become a priest. So, he left the college and went to work for the Jesuits in Montreal.

During that time, the one who became my mother had entered the Grey Nuns at the age of 17. She stayed there for four years. A few months before her profession, she had to leave for health reasons.

According ot God’s plan, these two persons happened to meet. After two years of courtship, they got married. They were both fervent catholics and loved God very much. The marriage of my parents, Georgine Beaudry and Alfred Faniel on the 30^th of August 1908 gave them ten children of which three boys died at an early age. There remained, therefore, seven children.

The great faith of our parents was an example to us. Their submission to the Will of God, in spite of many trials, edified us. In our home, there was a lot of love and lots of humor!

I was the sixth child of the family and born between five boys. Mom would often say : “You know, you have risen from the dead.” That was 82 years ago...

I was therefore born on the 8^th of July 1915, on a Friday at eleven o’clock in the morning. My parents were living on Marie-Anne Street East. The month of July 1915 was very hot and humid. On the 4^th of July, mom said to dad : “If you want a souvenir of your wife and children (I was still in her womb), ask your friend to come and take a photo of the family, for I have no more strength to carry this child. I feel like I’m dying.”

So the photo was taken and I was born on the 8^th of July without any problem. Later on, mom said to me : “I lacked confidence. I should have waited a few days and you would have been in the picture with us. You were there, well hidden... WHY?” Thanks to God, the mother is doing well as well as the father. On Sunday the 10^th of July, I received the sacrament of baptism at the church of the Immaculate Conception by the pastor, Joseph Proulx, s.j. 

My parents wanted to call me Anne Marie Georgette, but the pastor refused saying that the child would be called Marie Anne Georgette because the name of Mary had to come before the name of St. Ann. 

My godfather, Georges Desmarais was the owner of a store selling religious articles. His spouse was always with him to help him in his work. They were good charitable people. Coming back from church, the lady gave Mom a beautiful green rosary with a golden cross with the inscription : “The cross is my salvation!” For my two little sisters and brother, they each received a beautiful red rosary. As for the baby that I was... there was absolutely nothing, not even a small medal as a souvenir of my baptism. Mom cried a lot... Why are there tears in her eyes?... Poor mom, by the sacrament of baptism, I had received much more than a medal.

One year, two years, three years, nothing special. At four years of age, mom was doing her washing. I wanted to help her by holding up the clothes, but my little hand slipped and my little finger got stuck in the spin dryer... crying and suffering. But this accident gave me the privilege of sleeping in grandma Beaudry’s bed.

She spoke to me about Jesus while I was crying... At a certain moment, she showed me a crucifix! She said to me : “Look how Jesus suffered... look at his hands nailed to the cross... it isn’t only his little finger that was hurting. Kiss him and tell him that you love him.” I took the crucifix and kissed it telling grandma that it still hurt. Grandma asked me to offer it all for big sinners, but in my mind as a child of four, I thought that big sinners were big persons. So I prayed even harder...

First vision

Grandma died on the 21^st of February 1920. The next day, grandma was exposed in the living room where women prayed and men were in the kitchen smoking and drinking black coffee... Since I didn’t stop crying as I looked at grandma, my mother asked my dad to keep me with him in the kitchen. I was sitting on his knees when someone knocked on the door. I look up and recognize grandma. I wanted to open the door and let her in, for it was a cold day on this 22^nd of February 1920. Dad would not let me and kept telling me that grandma wasn’t there. “She has died and her soul is with Jesus. So, you cannot see her!”

During all this time, I could always see grandma who was asking me to come. I could see her with her little shawl on her head, a row of curls on her forehead, a black ribbon around her neck with a small white cross. A white short-sleeve shirt and a black skirt. Her image has always remained alive in my memory. There was also the rosary she always said. The Holy Father had granted a 300 day indulgence on each grain.

We would often say the rosary to atone for the insults made to the Eucharist. The rosary went like this : (on each grain, we would say) “Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, have mercy on us.” Grandma often recited it for souls in purgatory.

Another souvenir of grandma. Before dying, she asked mom to allow the children to remain near her. There were four of us, my two sisters and my brother prayed. Since I was too small to pray, I held the bottle of holy water to bless her for grandma would say : “You know, children, when a soul is going to see God and is about to die, it needs a lot of prayers for the devil wants to destroy it, especially if this soul never wanted to belong to him.” I didn’t understand everything, however, deep down inside, I felt the need to bless it with holy water.

It was difficult for all of us to see grandma die. Mom had just given birth to my little brother, two weeks before, in difficult circumstances. The baby weighed twelve pounds at birth. It was her tenth child. At forty-one she was exhausted. But what courage!... She accepted it all. She found strength in her faith! Her submission to the will of God, her love of God, her prayer and example!

God knows how many trials of all kinds she had, illnesses, dramas, mortalities, lack of funds, of necessities, of food... etc. One day, she said to me : “You know the way of the cross that I followed and accepted did not end at the fourteenth station. It has lasted all my life!”

She died at the age of 78 and when she received the sacrament of the sick, she asked me to lie by her side and firmly held my hand. Her great wish was that I leave with her for she was leaving me alone. However, there were three sisters and two brothers, all married.

Now, I am five years old

I was living with my family. Since I liked to sing and listen to music, we had a record player that was defective. I would climb on a chair and spend long moments trying to make it work and listen to some music. To no avail!... I would hear a sharp whistling sound like a siren on a boat. I was happy for at least there was a sound. I wasn’t doing it for nothing. This could last, at times, for more than a quarter of an hour to the great annoyance of my listeners. If someone laughed, I would begin to cry. I wanted so much to listen to some music, for, in dad’s family, there was a great composer by the name of Henri Faniel, and at the age of eleven, dad went regularly with his parents to the opera.

Uncle Victor, the missionary, was dad’s brother. He used to sing and was a talented organist. At his mission in the Philippines, he renewed an organ that had almost two hundred pipes made of bamboo. At Christmas, he wouldd add water to the pipes and when he played, the sound was like that of birds. The people were in admiration and would give thanks to God. Mom sang very well. She was a soprano. My father also sang. He had a tenor voice. Later on, there were six of us singing in the choir of the Immaculate Conception parish, that is, the parents and four of their children.

Father Émile Fontaine, s.j., was choir master. We would sing at the church each evening during the month of March dedicated to Saint Joseph; followed by the month of May dedicated to Mary and in July to the Precious Blood; finally the month of October that was the month of the rosary. There was also singing during mass on Sunday, Vespers, retreats, plus concerts. There were many rehearsals. I was the only child singing with adults. Many people  would say : “We have heard the birds of paradise or the birds of Father Fontaine sing!”

Finally one day, around Christmas time, Father Fontaine asked me to sing with the boys’ choir during midnight mass. I didn’t want to because at that time, it was forbidden for boys and girls to sing together during a religious ceremony. Father Fontaine obtained permission for me to sing during midnight mass. Father Fontaine placed me in front of him to sing. The boys, during rehearsal would sing : “Mimi Chrétien” instead of “Minuit Chrétien”. Father Fontaine didn’t seem to notice. He would say : “Very good!” The boys would take advantage of this and tease me. I was the only girl singing with them. Among those close to me were two brothers. They found ways to tease me and later on, they both became Jesuit priests and are now deceased. I have strayed a bit from my subject! …

So now, I have reached the age of six

I began getting sick… heart, lungs, etc. The spiritual director of my mom tells her : “Your little one is often sick. I think it would be wise to have her make her first communion. I know her well and for a long time I think she has been ready.”

I remember… my little heart had a lot of love for little Jesus. But at that time, a child could not receive communion before the age of eight and I was only six.

Having the permission to receive communion, I was overjoyed. Each day, I would sit in a little carriage pulled by my brother… it was very far from the school and I was too weak to walk the distance. Being too young to begin studying, the nuns would prepare my little soul to receive little Jesus. One hour in the morning and one hour in the afternoon. So, two hours each day.

Each time, I was obliged to wait for my two sisters and my brother to return home. Sometimes, they made me rest and eat a bit, for I was so weak and exhausted that I would not have been able to continue. The rest of the time was spent with a nun who played the piano. When it came time to leave, I was sad. I felt so good being near the sister and listening to the music. Finally, once home, I was happy to be back with my parents, my sisters and my brothers.

The day came when I had to prepare myself for my first communion. During three days, I wasn’t allowed to play or talk to my sisters and brothers. I was in a room by myself praying. Mom would come and speak to me about Jesus, how to prepare myself for this great visit to my little soul. Each time, my love for Him increased. I was anxious and my heart was aching from the love that I wanted to give.

I was counting the days. I was having my meals all by myself and to my great surprise, I did not cry… I was so sensitive about everything… a simple frown could make me cry. I would tremble in the presence of an angry person. I am not in the habit of sharing my feelings… Why? Usually a child says everything and talks too much. However, I liked to laugh, talk, but there was a little secret corner in me!

The day of my first communion soon arrived. For me, it was a great mystery. Jesus on the cross was making himself small enough to be in a small host for me. So, does this mean that his love is small?... At mass, I could see the priest elevate a LARGE HOST. In my little heart I wanted this large host in order to have Jesus in a large size and receive much more love. At times, I would look at the host for a long time. The sister would tell me : “Don’t be so curious! Lower your head!” She didn’t tell me why, and in my little head, I would ask myself, why shouldn’t I look? If Jesus is there?...

This is when I heard an inner voice : “It’s true! You are curious. I don’t like it. You are not obedient and you have committed a SERIOUS MORTAL SIN that is going to send you to hell.”

I cried so much, feeling guilty. I was afraid to look at people, thinking that everyone knew about my sin and my secret. I just wanted to be alone. My parents began to worry and asked me : “What’s wrong with you?” I would manage to smile and say that there was nothing wrong. After a few minutes, I began to cry. Nothing could console me, not even mom’s kisses, dad’s hugs. I felt all alone in this large family.

Mom decided to allow a little neighbor to come and play with me in order to distract me and stop me from crying. The little neighbor was nine and a half and I was barely six. Mom left us by ourselves in the room. (I still remember her name but mustn’t reveal it). The little neighbor told me : “Come, we’re going to play a new game.” I tell her NO. I want to know its name. She tells me the game doesn’t have a name. It’s in doing it that we learn and the game is easy to learn and we’re going to have lots of fun.

Since she was bigger than I, she approaches me, takes me in her arms and begins to kiss and caress me. “See? – it’s a nice game! I’m not hurting you! You are going to like it and do it by yourself. You will always have the same pleasure,” So, she removes my little panties and touches me many times. I was weeping and telling her : “Go away! Leave me alone…” Stop crying, she would say. Your mom will punish you for what you have done, and she continued all the more… tell me that you like it. And she continued… I was crying and couldn’t get away from her. I didn’t have the strength to struggle. Then, she smiled : “You see, it’s easy. I’m sure you’ll never forget this game. (She was absolutely right!) I never forgot that day. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what was happening to me.

The next morning, the sister prepared us for our first confession. She helped us make our examination of conscience. She spoke about bad thoughts, disobedience to our parents, bad touching between little girls or boys. She added : “It is a big MORTAL SIN THAT CAN SEND US TO HELL FOREVER.” Seeing that this was my case, I wept and thought : “JESUS NO LONGER LOVES ME!” I hated my little neighbor. I told mom : “I don’t like her… I never want to see her again.”

Mom said to me : “You shouldn’t feel this way! What did she do to make you feel this way?” In my little heart, I was suffering and I didn’t want to tell mom anything.

Finally, the day of confession arrived

We went to the church with the sister. She placed me near the confessional of the Pastor. I didn’t want this, for I was afraid of him. He spoke very loud! He was very fat. (I think he was bigger than Santa Claus). All I remember is telling him that I had committed a big sin. At that moment, he spoke rather loudly and I didn’t understand anything. I was crying because I was hearing an inner voice tell me:

– Satan: “You are damned, for you made a bad confession and the priest has not forgiven you. There is no forgiveness for you no matter what. You are in the state of mortal sin.”  

Mimi : What a drama I was having… it was like being dead and my secret was hidden at the bottom of my little heart.

Then the day of my first communion arrived
on the 21^st of April 1922

Seventy-six years ago! I have never forgotten these days. There was a celebration at the house. The whole family was joyful. On this occasion, I had put on a white dress that my sister lent me.

I was watching my little companions who told me “Look!... we have new dresses!” - others said - “We are more beautiful than you… look at my white shoes.” As for me, I had black shoes. At times, I said “On the day of my first communion, I would like to be dressed in white like a bride.”

Interiorly I would hear this : “Look! You are the poorest one, the ugliest… You are the only one receiving communion in the state of sin. I am going to tell the Pastor and your parents on you. It shows on your face!”

I was suffering very much and there was no one in whom I could confide. The next day, there was a lot of noise. I could hear the sirens of the firemen. I ran to mom, crying : “I’m frightened, I’m frightened!” She took me in her arms and reassured me saying : “It is a fire at St-Jean-de-Dieu Hospital, and the firemen are there to put out the fire and save the patients.” I wanted to give them my coat to help. But mom explained that the patients were mentally ill. So, I asked her whether it was only adults who had this illness. My mother said ‘No’. Sometimes there were infants, persons young or old… Go and pray for these people. 

But I couldn’t pray and came back to mom. I told her, ‘you know, mom, I would like to go and live with these people. See, I could play with the children, share games with the older ones, tell them stories, sing for the elderly. If they should cry, I could console them, do house cleaning in their rooms, run errands. In my little head, I had many reasons to get permission. No! said mom. I couldn’t understand why not. Mom, so kind, so charitable, so pious. My little heart was wounded by her refusal. So, I cried! Much later, I understood why. 

I am now seven years old

We were going through great trials, sickness, dad was out of work (for he was an artist painter). He made many paintings that he would sell, but at that time, it was a luxury to buy a painting.

I remember once when dad had gone out to find work… During this time, mom made us pray, asking God to have mercy on us, for we needed food, warm clothing, medecine… (How many times I saw mom deprive herself from eating!). We had finished our prayers, dad wrings the door bell and mom opens the door for him. What surprise and what joy! Dad was holding in his arms a big statue of the Sacred Heart that the nuns had given him. Mom asked him : “Is it to be repaired?” Dad answers : “No, it is ours!” Mom wept for joy! “See, children, in our prayers, we asked God to have mercy on us and now, Jesus is coming to live with us” On our knees once more and each evening, prayers were said before the statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Today, it is my little brother who owns it. He deserves it for at the age of three, he was by himself with a babysitter. Dad was working, mom was at the hospital and we were four children at Ste-Justine’s hospital. My little brother was at home, crying and saying daddy, mommy, and saying each of our names. The babysitter was soundly asleep. It was afternoon and suddenly, she is awakened by the cries of my little brother. He was very pale. She thought that he was sick. She asks him : “Are you sick? What’s wrong?” And he answers : “The Sacred Heart of Jesus moved and spoke to me. I was frightened!” - “What did he tell you?” My little brother answered : “He told me not to cry… that everyone was going to be cured.” So the babysitter is all upset and asks a Jesuit Father to come to the house and speak to the child. 

The good priest came to the house and asks him : “Did Jesus have shoes?” My little brother was tired in having to answer all these questions and answered : “You don’t understand. He couldn’t have shoes. He was on clouds.” - And my little brother made large gestures to show him what he meant. Then, the priest asked him what color was his heart. My brother got angry and answered. “I won’t say anymore because you don’t understand.” There was total silence.

However, my little brother still  has a devotion to the Sacred Heart and the statue is always in his home. What a privilege! One day during the war, he was in the army and far from home. He wrote the following : “Why did the Sacred Heart give me this privilege? What does God expect from me?” Today, he has his answer… He is married and the father of ten children.

It is the 16th of May 1998 and I must speak about the winter and Christmas! It is very hot in my room. So, this will cool things a bit! Isn’t this amusing!!!

Therefore the 25^th of December 1922, Christmas day 

We were looking forward to this day. My parents were with us near the little nativity scene. Mom said : “Today is Christmas and I was looking at baby Jesus born in poverty. He has no bed to sleep in, he is cold, he has no toys, no gifts. Mom and dad would have liked to give you beautiful things, gifts. It is a big sacrifice to offer Jesus. It is the moment to show him our love.” Taking out a sheet of paper and a pencil, she tells us : “Mummy is going to write down what you would like as presents.” The list was long for we were seven children. 

Each one of us would say what we wanted : a truck, a car, etc… I asked for a doll dressed as a nun. Finally, mom tells us : “Now, we are going to give Jesus a present by giving Him the list of presents you would have liked to receive. So that your sacrifice may please Jesus, we are going to do it with lots of love.” So, one by one, we told Jesus what we were giving Him.

When my turn came, I said to Jesus : “I want to give you a present. I offer you the doll dressed as a nun. Are you happy?” Then, I looked at him. I would have liked him to smile at me, but nothing. I said to mom : “I think that he didn’t understand!!! After all, he’s made out of plaster!!!”

After making the sacrifice of giving everything to Jesus, we were joyful, laughing and singing. A real party. We didn’t even have candy but in our hearts there was lots of happiness. Mom was weeping for joy at seeing us this way.

Is it normal to act this way? Humanly speaking, NO! But in our hearts we understood the value of a sacrifice made out of love for little Jesus.

Back to our story

In the afternoon, two of my father’s students came with two sleds filled with boxes containing food, clothes, toys, candies, especially chocolate éclairs that I loved but had become very rare! Then, one of dad’s belgian compatriots rang the doorbell. Dad opened the door. His friend began scolding my dad : “We have been looking all over for you these last few days to invite you and your family to a Christmas celebration. So, I invite all of you. Come, children!”

So, off we go, the whole family. Once at the great hall of ‘UNION BELGE’ everyone welcomed us with lots of love. They were very warm and smiling. “Come, come, children, Santa Claus is expecting you.” I am afraid for upon looking at him, he reminded me of my pastor!!! He tells me to come closer and with a booming voice (that could shake mountains) he tells me : “I’m going to give you a present and adds ‘Look closely! Are you pleased?’”

I was so moved, I was crying, but this time it was joyful. There was, in the box, a doll dressed as a nun! Strangely enough… each child had what he wanted… And I was asking myself : “How can a baby Jesus made of plaster know what we wanted?” And mom answered saying : “It is because of the love, sacrifice and faith in little Jesus that he answered your prayers.

I will never forget this Christmas day!

A short time later, a friend of the family gave us a gallon of molasses and at least twenty pounds of canadian cheese. We were so happy! 

The prayers of my parents have been heard. We must move and return to live in the parish of the Immaculate Conception directed by the Jesuits. We were living in the parish of St-John-the-Baptist-of-LaSalle where I made my first communion.

I was the only one to make my first communion in another parish, for the seven children were all baptized, made their first communion, and the marriage of my three sisters took place at the parish of the Immaculate Conception. There was also the baptism of my nieces… the funeral of my parents, my four brothers and sister. What memories from this church!

There was a beautiful statue of the Immaculate Virgin and I almost always placed myself in the first pew in order to be closer to the Virgin Mary for prayers. On the right, above the grotto of Lourdes, there was a painting by my father, Alfred Faniel. This painting represented the vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary with Jesus in the arms of Saint Ignatius of Loyola in the grotto of Manresa.

There is a little story about this painting. As an artist, my dad was looking for someone to personify the Virgin Mary, that is, a model. So, when he went out with mom, during the ride in the tramway, he would look at the women who were there and would not speak to mom. So, mom said to him : “Alfred, stop looking at these women in front of us!” Dad would say : “I’m an artist and I’m looking for a model for my painting.” So,mom would say : “Look somewhere else. I can’t imagine Mary with make-up and lipstick on her lips.” This was followed by silence from that moment on.

I was happy to see them back. I asked them about their trip. Dad, the silent one, looked at me with a pitiful look!... Mom seemed sad and said to me : “It’s always the same when we go out together.” I had nothing to add. So, I raised up my eyes to heaven and asked God to have mercy on us!

Dad was sitting near me. He gets up and tells me : “Don’t move, little one, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” After a few minutes, he tells me : “You will be my model for the painting at the church.” I didn’t want to. Dad tried to make me understand that it was very important to him. I answered : “I don’t want to … I’m not worthy… I’m not the Blessed Virgin!” Dad answered : “Your behavior convinces me. Please, little one, do it for God! Do it for me! It’s your look, the expression on your face! The gentleness, the calm, the peaceful look that radiates. I ask it of you, please. I must finish this painting as soon as possible.”

And so the painting is still in the church of the Immaculate Conception where I was baptized 82 years ago. AND I’M STILL PART OF THE PAINTING!!!

Now, I am old, but on the painting, I will remain young. The image of Mary represents eternal youth!

I continue

I’m eight years old, very ill, the heart, the lungs. Mom asks the priest to give me the sacrament of the sick. After, Father F. tells mom : “What sadden’s me most is that the little one no longer recognizes me.” During the night, mom had a stroke and was taken to the hospital. The next day, the priest came to see me and there was no improvement. The doctor decided to send me to St-Justine Hospital. I was put in the same room as my sister M. and my little brother G. Poor dad! Trial after trial, his wife in the hospital, his four other children at St.-Justine hospital, and I was dying.

It was on the night of the 19th of March, the feast of Saint Joseph. The hospital  phoned our neighbor and asked to speak to my father, asking him to bring a small white dress and some clothing… to put on me after I died. There is no more hope. Come quickly! Our neighbor gave him the little white dress that her little girl had worn for her first communion.

Dad reaches the hospital and gives the box of clothes to the nurse. He asks her : “Where is my little girl?” (for I wasn’t in my room). She tells him : “Come, she is in the solarium.” I was on a stretcher, with a white sheet covering my body and my head. What a trial for my dear dad!

He lifts up the sheet and kisses my forehead and crying tells Saint Joseph : “I didn’t ask you to come a get my little girl, I asked you to heal her!”  In the dead silence of the night, at three in the morning, he hears footsteps. Someone was walking slowly. To his great surprise, he recognizes Doctor Moreau. What are you doing here at such an hour? For Doctor Moreau was 89 and had stopped practicing medecine since the age of 70. And Doctor Moreau answered : “I had an urgent call!” And he asked my dad : “And you, what are you doing here?” Dad tells him : “I was called for my daughter… She is there.”

Doctor Moreau lifts up the sheet and rests his head on my chest, listening for a long moment in silence. Then, he looks at dad and tells him that it isn’t over. “I can still hear a very soft breath of life.” 

He asks the nurse to bring me back to my room. She refuses and goes to get a doctor for a NON FORMAL. So, Doctor Moreau tells her : “I want to see the principal doctor or else I will go to the newspapers and if you want a scandal in this hospital, you are going to have one!”

After this delicate situation, I am brought back to my room and he begins a massage. 

I came back to life while remaining in a coma

Dad decides to go to the Oratory of Saint Joseph and walks for several hours. When he arrives, BROTHER ANDRÉ was there and asks my dad what is wrong. My father tells him everything. Brother André tells him that this child will be a privileged child of Saint Joseph. Then, dad attends mass and recommends me to Saint Joseph.

In the afternoon, during the ceremony for the sick, Father Clement, c.s.c., recommends me to the prayers of the faithful. During this time, I was at St-Justine Hospital and regaining consciousness. I was at the hospital for over a month. Dad had promised to have a mass of thanksgiving said to thank Saint Joseph. We were so poor that in order to pay for the stipend, we had to wait three months to save the five dollars. 

All savings went into a little box. Each child had to contribute in order to pay for the mass. My share consisted in spending three hours with an old lady in the afternoon. She was our neighbor.

Her son was working and she was all alone. I was given a quarter for spending time with her. (To see her sleep). I used to find the time long and I would play the piano softly. I had to play softly so as not to wake her up. I would see my brothers and sisters play and run around. I was too weak to play with them and share their games. Strangely enough, I was strong enough to babysit the old lady!

After several months, we were able to save five dollars for the mass. It is therefore on the first of July that the whole family went to Saint-Joseph Oratory to attend the thanksgiving mass. Dressed in white, I said : “Look, Father Clement, I put on my little white dress that I was to wear for my burial.”

I loved wearing this dress but as I was growing, the dress became too short. Mom would lengthen the dress with a frill from the same material. I stopped wearing it after three frills! A good thing for at 82, I would have more frills than a dress!

During this period, mom was always in the hospital, and I went to live for almost two years with a family where there was a beautiful grandmother. None of her children were married. There were two boys and a girl. John, the youngest, would cradle me to sleep. I would cry a lot for I was lonesome for my parents, my brothers and sisters. John would tell me stories and he was very fond of Saint Thérèse. However, he died at the age of thirty-three. As I looked at him I said : “John isn’t dead. I know. He is so beautiful… and his eyes are open.” For before dying, he said “How beautiful she looks!” and he kept smiling till the end. He was so fond of Mary and Saint Thérèse.

One day, mom asked to see me, for she thought that I had died! For, during almost a year, she had remained paralyzed in a hospital and no one had spoken of me and that I was living elsewhere. The doctor had requested this. So, having returned home and seeing all her children, and that I was absent, she asked to see me. And that is when she learned the whole truth.

So, I was brought home by the people with whom I was staying. I was so happy to be at last with the family. My little sisters looked at me and said : “You look great!... what a beautiful dress you’re wearing…” I was shy and ashamed of myself. When the time came to leave, I jumped into my mother’s arms.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you.” Mom said : “My dear little girl, you have to go and live with Mr. And Mrs. Duhamel and their family. I can’t keep you here. You are too sick and need care and good food. Here, we only have the bare necessities for the family.” I replied : “So, I’m no longer a part of the family?” and I cried. Mom was also crying. She said : “Of course you are, my little Mimi (my pet name), you have your place here, and a large one, only, you need better nourishment in order to get your strength back.” - “But mom, I am ready to die of hunger so that I can stay with you. I miss papa and my brothers and sisters.” I was filled with sorrow as I looked at mom who had tears in her eyes. Dad wasn’t there. God was the only witness. My brothers and sisters didn’t seem to notice what I was going through.

At Mrs. Duhamel’s house, everyone was very happy to see me back and one of her daughters told her mother : “Look who’s here! Our little Mimi, our ray of sunshine, our dear little angel, etc…”

Yes, an angel with tired wings, living in darkness. What was most difficult was to accept the hugs and gifts of these persons. I would have liked to tell them : “Leave me alone! I want to go back to my family.” For several days, I didn’t want to eat, talk or sing, for the grandmother liked to make me sing and recite poems like the LAME KING! Or FOUR FINGERS AND THE THUMB IN THE AIR! This wasn’t written by Chauveau (a canadian author) and he isn’t the author of this narration. At night, during prayers, I would tell Jesus : “I give you my heart, please take it so that no other creature may possess it but you alone my good Jesus.” Within my little heart, I didn’t want anyone to love me because my little heart belonged to Jesus.

After several months, I returned home. Mom was so happy to be with her little family and papa was working. We could therefore satisfy our hunger. I remember there was a time when we had almost nothing to eat. With the permission of the Pastor, the cook, A.G., would bring us after supper the left-overs of the Jesuit Fathers.

One day, mom went to confession and accused herself of giving meat to our little family on a Friday. (It was forbidden to eat meat on Friday). The priest scolded her and said she was guilty of sin… Then, he asks her : “Who does the cooking at your place?” Mom answered : “The Jesuit Fathers!” The priest was startled : “The Jesuit Fathers?” - “Yes, the Jesuit Fathers!” And she explained the situation. If we ate meat on Friday… it was the left-overs from Thursday’s supper given to us by the Jesuits. “Dear child, - he said – we will continue to help you. Take courage!”

One day, a priest came to the house to visit my parents. He said : “How is everything going?” - “Yes, Father, but there is my little Mimi who is very weak. She is often bed ridden and at the hospital for long stays. Would you please pray for her.” And the priest said : “Where is she at this moment?” Mom looks for me and finds me. I had hidden in my room for I didn’t want to see him and didn’t know why!

In the living room, he looks at me : “Is this the one? Come closer.” - Then, he adds : “I have something to ask your mother. If she gave you permission to come to the rectory, for I have a relic of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus from the Carmel of Lisieux, I could have you venerate it. You know Saint Thérèse is a great saint. She could heal you.” Then, he looks at mom and says : “Do you give her permission?” - Mom answers : “Yes, Father!” - “So, listen carefully. On Friday at one thirty, I will be there.”

On Friday, mom made preparations for me to go, but when it was time to go, I didn’t want to and began to cry. “I don’t want to go alone, mom, come with me. I’m scared.” - “Come now, little Mimi, he’s a good priest. Don’t act like a baby! He is going to pray with you for your healing.” At the rectory, he opens the door. “Enter…” - I ask him : “The house keeper isn’t here?” - “No, I’m alone. Come to my room, the relic is there.” - “Why don’t you go and get it. It tires me to climb stairs!” - “No, no, we will go up very slowly.” He took my hand. I was silent. Once in his room, he closes the door, locks it, and looks at me with a smile. I felt uncomfortable. My little heart was aching. I wanted to leave.

I ask him : “Where is the relic?” - “Wait!” he wanted to sit me on his lap for he had removed his cassock. - “I won’t harm you.” He begins petting me. - “How wonderful!” and began laughing. Then, holding me tight he says : “Don’t move, I’ll be right back…” I could hardly breathe! Then, he returned. He had put his cassock back on and was very nervous.

“Now, kiss the relic. Listen to me carefully. You will tell your mom that you kissed the relic. I forbid you to tell her what went on for it is our secret. If you want Saint Thérèse to heal you, you must obey, understand?” Upon returning, mom asks me how it went. I answered : “badly!” - “Come now, little Mimi, don’t talk this way about a priest!” I felt guilty once again. I still wonder why all these things happened.

A short time later, I learn that he had passed away. He had died suddenly. Being too young to see the gravity of all this, in my little heart, as a child, it was very heavy to live with all this. I would often think about his soul! However, I couldn’t admit that something serious had happened, for it wasn’t possible for a priest to commit a sin. After God, there was the pope and the priest. We had been taught to have a great respect for the priest, because, after God, he was His representative, that is the PRIEST.

Why is my heart so upset? So worried? Was there anything wrong? Unsure, having no understanding of the situation, I said : “Mother Mary, I don’t understand anything of this, but I trust in You. Would you please talk this over with Jesus for me?” For I was left with a certain fear in the presence of a priest. Today, I understand that he (the enemy) wanted to destroy me while I was young and prevent me from confiding in a priest.

I began again to want to live, however, I was often sick. It was the period of operations. I couldn’t study or go to school… I was more often in the hospital than at home. Then, one day, mom encountered a professor who taught singing  and piano. Miss A. Boyer. Mom invited her to our house. She accepted with pleasure for she wasn’t married and loved children. 

Mom told her about the experiences I had with the record player in order to have a bit of music. She found this very amusing. She asked mom whether I could sing… “Sing something for me.” Mom said to me : “Sing a beautiful hymn, the one you sing so well!” Since I didn’t like receiving compliments, I began to sing ON A CLEAR MOONLIGHT… to mom’s disappointment. In spite of all this : “The little one’s voice is on key, but not very strong. If you like, I can give her singing lessons.” Everything was going well. So I sang something more serious. ( I was no longer in the moon!)

The professor also had a choir of students and a little theatrical troupe. One day, she gave me a part in the play THE LITTLE PAUPERESS. All was going well and while smiling during the play, I lost my shoe! So I simply said : “As you can see, I am poor. I only have one shoe!” The audience laughed for it wasn’t in the text.

One day, at the vacation colony, the director asked me to play the role of Saint Joan of Arc. During the play, according to the text, Saint Joan of Arc was saying goodbye to her family and friends to go on her mission. I took this role so much to heart that I began to cry uncontrolably and was unable to continue. After the play, someone told me : “You were very good in your role… You are going to become a great artist!” I looked at her and said to myself : “At this moment, which one of us is the artist?” For she had mastered the art of paying compliments.

I enjoyed being in plays. I took after my dad. He was in plays for many years with a theatrical troupe. Later on, I would help him repeat his texts. When he did, he would walk up and down as if he were on the stage. Poor papa! He walked a lot during all these years! One day, as he was on stage, he was giving it all he had. He was reciting the famous monologue of Cyrano de Bergerac, when suddenly he began choking because of a throat abscess. We had to interrupt the play for dad had the principal role… That was the end of his career in the theatre!

Now I am ten years old

I was continuing my singing lessons. I would have liked to play the piano. I tell this to the professor. “I don’t mind, but you don’t have a piano!” Dad, seeing my great desire ( he was an artist) decides to build a keyboard out of cardboard. I could see the white notes and the black notes. My table became my piano. This is how I learned the fingering and THE SOUND OF THE NOTES WAS IN MY MEMORY!

Father Fontaine, s.j., seeing my taste for music asked me to become a member of the choir of the Immaculate Conception (mixed). I was the only child singing with adults and this made me sad for there was a lot of criticism and jealousy. “She is little… and she can’t even read the notes! She’s the little girl friend of Father Fontaine!” 

So, one day, there was an election in the choir, for Father Fontaine was 70 and needed help to direct the choir, especially for rehearsals. There was a vote and I was elected president. Father Fontaine was very pleased. He said : “You know exactly what I want. You have the necessary preparation. As secretary, you know the routine. God has given you a needed talent.” I looked at him laughing for he really wanted me to replace him. So, I accepted. Father Fontaine thanked me and presented me as his assistant.

I was fifteen, but tall enough for my age and most of the members were satisfied at the choice. Then, Father Fontaine asked me to say a word. (I would have preferred to sing rather than talk). “Ladies and gentlemen. I will do my very best. I count a lot on all of you.” - And then, I began to cough which made everyone laugh. Then, I notice in a corner of the music hall a group of senior citizens. A group of busybodies… They were speaking in low voices while looking at me in a strange manner. Their murmurs sounded in my ears like a tempestuous ocean. So, here I am in a thunderstorm of jealousy!... I prayed a lot and asked God what to do in such a situation.

The next morning, I go to the rectory and ask to see Father Fontaine and hand in my resignation. - “No way! You accepted and must continue.” - “I’m sorry, Father Fontaine, but I cannot. I don’t have the moral and physical strength to continue with these persons.” So, I remained a simple member of the choir during more than twenty years. I finally left because of illness.

I was operated at Notre-Dame Hospital and stayed there a long time. Convalescence wasn’t very long, for, there was a lot of work at home to be done to help mom who had a heart condition. She had to rest. At that time, we were still seven adults at home. A lot of washing. Just for dad and my three brothers, I had to wash and iron twenty four shirts each week. To this, we must add the clothes of the other members of the family and the house cleaning. Mom prepared the meals. Shepherd’s pie, etc. 

As I write this, a souvenir comes to my mind. I was accompanying a sister of the Immaculate Conception. We were doing a door-to-door asking for donations for the missions. An elderly lady asked the sister : “Tell me, sister, is the little girl who is with you a little chinese girl?” Then, the good lady takes my hand and gives me some pennies and a big kiss on the forehead saying : “For a chinese girl, she is very pretty!”

Fortunately, today, at 82, I am no longer a chinese beauty!

However, I pray a lot Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus for the missions, and sometimes, on sleepless nights, I become a missionary of silence. This allows me to visit foreign countries in my thoughts and prayers. (Even China).

Now, another period in my life begins

I am at a vacation colony by the name of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus. It is situated at Contre-Cœur. The name of the railroad station is Lisieux. It was a big building that could shelter two hundred persons, including the personnel, the boarders and girls from five to fifteen under my charge. I worked hard from six in the morning to ten at night. No salary, but I had room and board.

For food, there was soup with molasses, cheese, bread and sometimes tomatoes and the forever shepherd’s pie. Every day, there were beans at the principal meal. This caused at night time in the dormitory a bombing of natural gas. (You know what I mean!)

I did the surveillance at night in the dormitory. There was silence followed by bodily sounds, giggles. A good thing this lasted only two months during vacation time. 

It wasn’t easy to call the little girls to prayer, for the older ones, twelve to fifteen, would hide in the woods or in the cabins to avoid attending mass and prayers. I would have them say the rosary and recite the act of contrition before bathing in the Saint Lawrence river. One day, the older girls tell me : “Miss, we can’t dive in, the water is too shallow, could you test it?” I entered the water and advanced further into the river, I dived and found myself caught in a whirlpool. I was turning like a spinning-top… I extended my arms for help, but the young girls thought I wanted to prolong my stay in the water and I could hear them counting ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, up to ten. And during all this time, I was under water, unable to come to the surface.

So I cried out to the Blessed Virgin : “Mother, Mother Mary, come to my aid, please help me.” And at the same moment, I felt two hands holding me by the waist and hoisting me up. I was able to catch my breath to continue swimming to shore. When I arrived at the shore, they told me : “You remained the longest under water! You beat the record!” I didn’t tell the children what had happened because I didn’t want to frighten them. The director was in Montreal for a week and I had the responsibility of the camp. Luckily God was with me and Mary as well. Today, I am more aware of the great protection I received from Heaven.

And one day, the local bishop appointed a chaplain to do ministry at the house. There was a large chapel. Each day, we had mass celebrated by Father Blaise Émile Pleau, the Superior of  Assumption College where there were three hundred students. 

A very holy man. He lived with an altar boy, in a small chalet at the bottom of the hill near the road. And if something happened, an accident, sickness, a fire, we would ask for his help. When he heard the bell ring, he would come quickly with his altar boy to help us.

One day, after mass, he said to me : “I have to speak to you! There is something about you… your smile and sometimes there are tears in your eyes.” - I answered : “I have nothing to say.” - And he added : “You have nothing to say, but a lot to carry. If you need help, I’m available.” - Finally, he said : “For the last three days, at mass, I was inspired to pray for you.”

The next morning after breakfast, he said to me : “I have thought it over and I’ve decided to stay here during the day to help you and after prayers in the evening, I’ll go back to the cottage for the night. The responsibility that you have is too much and you need to rest. Go and rest at the dormitory for an hour. I will take over, I’m used to it.” 

He would begin by saying the rosary before the Blessed Sacrament. He would teach them to sing hymns. Then, there were games. He would tell them stories. During this time, I could rest. When I came back, the little girls were happy to tell me all that Father Pleau had taught them. I thanked God for placing him on my path to help me, especially to have allowed the little girls to express themselves, to pray. He also did spiritual direction for the older ones. 

During the last month, he would give me advice and help me with the little girls. On the last day, he gave me his address at Assumption College, and his phone number and said : “If you need me, don’t hesitate!”

Back in Montreal after vacation, he phoned me and said that he was in Montreal visiting his sister who was a religious nun with the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, cloistered nuns. And he asked me to meet him at the women’s prison on Fullum Street. To my surprise, I answered : “Me, go to the women’s prison? Why? No way!” - “It’s the only place where I can see you because my sister is the Superior of the prison!” So, I make up my mind and finally arrive at the prison. I ring. A policeman opens the door and asks me what I want. I ask him to see Father Pleau and add on that I have an appointment. 

I enter an office where I am questioned, name, address, parents, identity card. Then, a guard tells me : “Follow me!” Then, he phones the gate keeper to open the door and accompanies me. A few moments later, a religious sister tells me : “Please follow me!” After walking along a long corridor, she knocks on a door. Father Pleau opens the door and says : “Come in…” It was very impressive. At the end of the apartment there was a long wall with a huge black curtain! ( It was like being in a funeral home.) He gets up, pulls the curtain where there is a grid where the sisters would come to meet Father Pleau. This is where he gave me spiritual direction and heard my confessions.

One day, he said too me : “I have a surprise for you! My sister wants to meet you!” And so I meet his sister. We had a long talk and she invited to come and see her. The first year wasn’t easy…but during the next ten years, once a month, I would go to the prison for spiritual direction.

During the Summer, I would go to the teacher training college of Saint-Jerôme, for Father Pleau was replacing the chaplain there. One day, the sister of Father Pleau passed away. He asked me to go see her and pray. It wasn’t easy for she was exposed in the cloister. I got permission. Alone with her, in a room, she was placed on boards and covered with a white sheet. A large cross, a large candle burning, a crown of roses on her head, a crown of thorns and a rosary in her hands, and her feet were bare. For three hours, alone with her, I prayed and looked at her. Her toes seemed to move. I began to be frightened, the door being closed! When the sister came to get me, I was dying of fright, and I was still within the prison. It was easier now that everyone knew me. But at home, my parents were very worried. “Where have you been?”, my dad asked.  I simply answered : “I was in prison.” - This made everyone laugh.

On Sunday evening, Monsignor Beaudry phoned me from Assumption College to tell me that Father Pleau had died. It was a great trial for me. I no longer had a spiritual director. He had helped me for he was a man of God and he loved the Blessed Virgin very much. He died while saying the rosary with his confreres. He had a malaise. The Superior says to him : “You are going tothe hospital!” - Father Pleau looks at him, shows him his rosary and says : “I’m not alone, don’t bother!” and he died after receiving the sacrament of the sick.

I didn’t have the money to make the trip. I wasn’t able to go to the funeral. Another cross. I felt lost. I was looking for a spiritual director. I needed help.

One day, I asked God to find me a priest according to His Heart. I go to the church and decide to go to confession. I enter the confessional and begin my confession… I hadn’t finished when the priest said : “My child, you are confessing like little Thérèse of the Child Jesus.” When I heard this, I left the confessional. The priest comes out of the confessional saying : “Little sister…little sister…” All I can say is that the little sister left the church in a hurry.

Another time, I present myself for confession and the priest asks me : “My child, what is your name?” - I answer : “My name isn’t a sin!” And once again, I leave the church. Each week, I would go to confession… For several years, I looked for a spiritual director. One day, I met Father Paul Godin. He was a young priest with a lot of experience in spiritual direction. A priest who really believed in his priesthood. He was my director for ten years.

One day, I remember, I was in the confessional and as I was leaving, I saw Mister Villeneuve hiding behind a pillar. So, I re-entered the confessional. Father Godin opened the grid and asked : “Did you forget something?” - “No! But I need help, for in the church there is a man looking for me. He is dangerous. He is mentally ill and is carrying a weapon. He has a permit. He is a journalist.” He was a friend of papa. He was a very interesting person. He had been with the Jesuits but had to leave due to mental illness.

Papa pited him. He would often come to our house. One day, he asks my dad’s permission to bring me to see a film on the Passion of Christ. I was saying no to papa by shaking my head. But papa answers : “Very well, but don’t come back late! My daughter needs her sleep.” - “Mister Faniel, trust me, right after the movie, we shall return.” So we took a taxi. At the cinema, the film was beginning. Since I was watching the film with a great disappointment in being with him, I was remaining silent. I felt that he was getting closer to me and looking at me. In a low voice, he said : “Would you give me your hand?” He answers me : “Because of this.” And he places in my hand a crucifix, his Jesuit crucifix. Then, he holds my hand tight. I wanted to disengage myself but to no avail! The film lasted two hours. The trip back home was a silent one. 

Once we were back, he told papa : “I was very pleased! Thank you Mister Faniel.” When he had left, papa asked me : “And you, my little one, did you enjoy yourself?” - “Papa, the film was very interesting but this is the last time I will go out with Mister Villeneuve.” - Papa is startled.“What did Mister Villeneuve do to make you talk this way?” - “I don’t like his manners!” - Papa tells me : “Explain yourself, if you please!” - So I tell him everything. Papa replies : “He has many problems, he needs to be pitied.” - “But papa! He doesn’t need pity. He needs to be treated and I believe it is urgent!”  He continued to visit us. I would leave the living room and stay in my room to avoid him.

One day, coming back from church, I meet Father Gamache and the Pastor who was smiling. He shakes my hand saying : “I heard of your marriage. My condolences!” I looked at him with surprise. “Father, what do you mean?... My marriage with whom?” - “Well, he came to the parish and had supper with us saying : ‘I have something important to tell you. On the 8th of July, I am going to marry Miss Georgette Faniel, here, at the church of the Immaculate Conception. There will be a high mass with deacon and sub deacon. There will be a lot of people and as a former professor of theology, I am inviting my students and confreres.”

Upon hearing this, I began to cry! “Is it possible?” - And the Pastor said to me : “Come now, Mimi, don’t cry! I told you this to make you laugh”. - “Yes, Father, maybe it’s funny for you but it isn’t for me!” I was afraid to go out. Father Gamache said to me : “Come to mass, tomorrow. Everything will be alright.”

The next morning, I left for mass. I was thanking God for His protection. I was going up the steps to enter the church. There were a lot of people. There were two sets of stairs that I was climbing with difficulty. As I begin climbing the second set of stairs, I feel a weapon in my back… It was Mister Villeneuve. “I want to speak with you. It’s very important. After mass, I will wait for you on Papineau Street. Understand?”

We were in church by then and I made him a sign not to talk. I enter the front pew. I wait a few seconds and look back. He is leaving the church for Papineau Street. I take advantage of this and I go to the rectory. I ask to see Father Gamache and I tell him everything. He says to me : “Very well, you won’t go to mass.” - “But Father, it’s Sunday!” - “I know and I take full responsibility. It is more important to protect you. I will accompany you to your home.” I was uncomfortable for having disturbed Father Gamache. Mom looks at me and says : “You look  so pale, what’s wrong?” - “It’s nothing. Don’t worry, mom!... All I need is rest!” 

One hour later, Father Gamache phones me telling me to stay inside for Mister Villeneuve was hiding in the chapel of the Jesuits, and could see me if I came out, and follow me.

The Pastor, Father Gamache and the Superior asked him to leave and never come back. Mister Villeneuve was humiliated. He made a scene, became violent and repeated over and over again : “I love her, I want to marry her, I am going to kidnap her, etc.”

The Superior then decided to send him to the hospital for he was in a state of shock. A few days later, I learned that he was at Saint-Jean-de-Dieu psychiatric hospital. I was less fearful. I could now go out.

One day, I received a twenty page letter saying that they were letting him out for three days so that he could marry me. For eight days, I received love letters. Papa decided to put an end to all this. He sent a lawyer’s letter to the hospital asking them to keep Mister Villeneuve under closer supervision.

Three days later, I received the visit of a religious sister. It was his sister. She was the Superior of her community. She had with her the letters of her brother, Mister Villeneuve. “Miss Faniel, you have nothing to worry. My brother, Mister Villeneuve, is very sick. He has cancer of the liver and has but a week to live. I have come to re-assure you and to ask you to pray for him and myself. It is a great trial for a family. My father was an alderman and during a political rally, during his speech, he no longer knew what he was saying. He died several years ago. As for myself, I also was mentally ill for many years. At that time, I was Superior General!”

At the same moment, I was looking at her and thinking : “I wonder whether she is really cured?” He died saying that I was his wife. And I had become a widow without knowing it! 

I remember one day, on my birthday, he gave me a beautiful white rosary and the “Glory be”’s were made with my birth stone, that is, rubies. I was so pleased to have this rosary! I asked Father Gamache to bless it. He said to me : “I am going to give it a special blessing.” - “Thank you, Father Gamache.” He gives it back to me and says : “You are going to give it to the Blessed Virgin at the church.” - “Yes, Father, I will say a rosary and give it back to you.” Father Gamache replied : “I did not ask you to say a rosary, I am asking you to obey and do it now!” He was looking at me with a serious look. It wasn’t that of the Good Shepherd or of the gentle lamb. He didn’t need to open the door to let me out!

In a few seconds, I was at the church near the altar of Mary, and the brother sacristan seeing me cry asked me : “Are you ill?” - “No, Brother Bédard. I am only sad.” And I ask him to place the rosary near Mary, at her feet. He takes the rosary and places it in the hands of Mary and not at her feet. I gave thanks to God for inspiring Brother Bédard for such a kind gesture. I’m sure Mary had something to do with it. 

Now, I was weeping for joy, and each day, I would make a holy hour and the way of the cross. I would meditate for long periods with Mary  while looking at my rosary. God guided me along paths that weren’t always easy.

This is why I learned to say over and over again:
“My God, may Your will be done!”

As for now, it is my sister who needs help, for she has had several operations. She had five children. Two died, one at the age of ten months (H) and (G) lived five hours. So I was taking care of my sister and of her little girls (J,D,L.) My brother-in-law was a very domineering man. But with me, he was very kind and polite. Always smiling and full of compliments. His attitude caused me lots of pain. I could see how much my sister M. was suffering because of him. He treated her like a slave even though she was sick. Never a word of thanks. He would ridicule her. “Look at her! If only she were a bit like you.” My sister endured it without saying a word. This made me sad.

She put up with this for fifty years. She prayed for him a lot. Her prayers were answered, for he died asking God and his wife forgiveness. She was a very holy person and I loved her a lot.

Later on, I was the one who needed help. During twenty-eight years, she came each day to take care of my parents. Today, she is forty-eight and very sick. Doctors keep wondering what is keeping her alive. I could answer them : “It’s her prayer life!” And each day, I offer God her sufferings in union with the sufferings of Jesus and the sorrows of Mary. It is a great detachment for me. I don’t have the strength to go and see her at the hospital. However my niece, her daughter, goes to see her each day. Her presence is precious.

I’m sick again… nothing new

Appendicitis with complications : two months in the hospital. One day, the doctor enters my room with four confreres to examine me. At a certain moment he says : “Look at her left shoulder, there is a scar!” And he asks me : “Would you tell me how you got this scar?” I didn’t want to tell him and I looked at him and remained silent. It was the wound on the left shoulder that Jesus asked me to honor. Seeing that I remained silent, he said to a confrere : “I don’t think she’s all there.”

At the same moment, the door of the room opens and a doctor very tall and handsome comes in saying : “Good morning, doctor, do you have a problem?” The doctor answers : “Yes, doctor. We have a special case. The person doesn’t seem to be able to respond.” The young doctor comes closer, examines the shoulder and says, laughing : “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old scar without any importance.” And he leaves with the group of doctors.

The nurse returns. I ask her : “Nurse, what is the name of the new doctor?” - “Which doctor do you mean?” I tell her about the tall doctor with blond hair, etc. She laughed. “You must be joking!” - “No, I’m serious!” - “I can assure you that I have seen a new doctor!”

Thank you, my God, for the invisible doctor or guardian angel who came to my defense.

Once again… I had to go out to do groceries. Mom said to me : “I’m worried to see you go. You aren’t very strong, you know.” - “Pray for me! I won’t be gone for long!” At the bottom of the stairs, there was a huge dog lying on the first step. As I come down, he gets up and looks at me. I look at him and tell him : “How beautiful you are! Your eyes and your look are so impressive. No, it isn’t possible to have such beautiful eyes and be a dog…” He seemed to understand what I was saying. He came up close and licked my hand. I continued walking with him at my side and reached Marie-Anne Street. I was about to cross the street when a huge truck comes towards me. The dog places itself in front of me and is struck and wounded.

Having calmed down, I looked for the dog. He was limping and far away. I continue on my way to the store and to my surprise, as I came out of the store, there was the dog. I pet him and thank him. He accompanies me to the house. I tell him : “Wait for me. I am going to get you some meat as a reward.”

When I enter the living room, mom tells me : “How pale you look! What’s happened?” I tell her what happened and she begins to cry. I take her in my arms… “Don’t cry, mom. I’m alright. The dog protected me!” Mom replied : “No, Mimi! It’s because I had asked God to protect you by sending you an angel!”

This is why I found that he had such beautiful eyes for a dog!

On another occasion, I wanted to make a pilgrimage to Saint-Joseph Oratory. Instead of walking on the street, I decide to take a short-cut by walking across the mountain while praying. There were hardly any houses. After walking for half an hour, I had encountered no one to distract me during my pilgrimage.

Suddenly, a car arrives and stops. Two men get out and want to make me enter their automobile. I didn’t want to and was scared. At the same moment, a big dog arrives and jumps on the two men… He bits one and the other is so scared that they let me go. Once more, thank you my God, thank you my good angel, thank you my dog.

It wasn’t the same dog that had protected me for I looked at him closely in the eyes. He had a kind look in spite of his size. Far away, he looked like a bear! He was all black. Once more, thank you My God!

I didn’t tell my parents about this pilgrimage for I believe that they would have put me in a cage to protect me…

On a beautiful day in Winter, my sister asks mom if I could accompany them. We leave, my sister and her fiancé, my brother and I. We go to Lafontaine Park to slide in a toboggan. It can hold four persons. Permission granted.

When we arrive, my sister’s fiancé goes first in order to guide the toboggan, followed by my sister, my brother and I. The three of them weighed impressively. (150-125-175lbs) I weighed about one hundred pounds. So, down we go. The hill is icy and the toboggan ends up on the artificial lake. I am thrown on a snowbank and the toboggan with the three remaining occupants continue full speed ahead. I am stuck in the snowbank in a lot of pain, unable to move. We were ten minutes from Notre-Dame Hospital but they decided to bring me home. They were all ill at ease.

I am asked to say nothing to my parents about the accident. They place me on the toboggan and we return to the house. I had to climb fourty-one steps, for there were two staircases. My brother and brother-in-law carried me in their arms. Mom asks us : “Did you have a good time?” No one answered and mom looked at me and said : “Mimi! You seem to be in pain!” - Someone answered : “She is tired. I’ll help her go to bed.” I was in such pain that I thought I was going to die! I would say : “My God, please help me!” And interiorly I could hear : “I am with you.”

I got back my courage. Today, I thank God once again for helping me offer up everything out of love. My parents have passed away and I have never told this secret to anybody. It is only after fifteen years of suffering that we discover the cause following a period of total paralysis. Urgent operation for a slipped disk. I spent two months in the hospital and the wound still wasn’t healed. More suffering!

But my moral suffering was much greater than my physical suffering. When I had to leave mom for the hospital, I told her : “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon!” Each day, mom would call me at the hospital for an update. Mom’s doctor had asked for silence on my condition. After a lumbar puncture performed by Doctor Martinez, an urgent operation was needed. It was Doctor Rinfret who operated. A religious sister was praying to Mother Marguerite d’Youville to obtain my healing. After the operation, the sister told Doctor Rinfret : “We were asking for a miracle from Mother D’Youville.” - Doctor Rinfret replied : “But sister, there was a miracle… She didn’t die!... No need to ask for another miracle.”

Before the operation, mom would phone me each day for an update. The day after the operation, mom wanted to speak to me. The nurse told her : “It’s impossible!” But mom insisted. I made a sign to the nurse for I knew about my mother’s health and how worried she was. The nurse was holding the phone, for I was receiving a blood transfusion and two serums while lying on my right side. It wasn’t easy for me to speak.

Once again, I ask for God’s help

“Hi! Mom, how are you?” - Mom answers : “Forget how I am… tell me about you for I am worried. No one gives me any news, not even Father Gamache! And I want to know… Mimi, tell me the truth!!!” - “Mom, don’t worry. All is well. I’m looking forward to seeing you and I love you.” The effort was too much and I fainted.

After two months, I am back home accompanied by my two brothers and Father Gamache. Father Gamache, didn’t want me to come back in an ambulance. He was afraid that the shock would be fatal for my mom, for she knew nothing about the operation and had heart trouble. I was looking at the stairs and I said : “My God, please come to my aid. I don’t have the strength to go up.” I felt so weak. My brother said to me : “Take your time!” And, at each step, I had to rest.

Finally we arrived. Mom wanted to take me in her arms and Father Gamache said : “No! You must wait. She must sit only on a strait chair.” But mom said to Father Gamache : “Why can’t she sit on the sofa?” Father Gamache answered : “No! It is out of the question. You are the one who is going to sit on the sofa!” Mom looked at him strangely, and then, looks at me : “What’s wrong with him?” And Father Gamache said : “I have something to tell you. Your little Mimi had an operation in her spinal column and this is why she cannot sit on the sofa.” Mom begins sobbing. Father Gamache says : “Come now, Mrs. Faniel, you mustn’t cry. She isn’t dead. Instead of crying, give thanks to God for keeping her with us.”

The convalescence was very long…

A good thing Father Gamache came each day to give me communion. That is all that counted for me. It was my only reason to live! For several years, Jesus had remained silent. But since the operation, I could always hear : “I am here!” It gave me courage! 

From that day on, my life changed, for I would recall what the doctor had told me after the operation on my spine : “The operation was not a success, for it was too late. I must tell you the truth. You will remain an invalid and receive a monthly pension of 26$.” Hearing this, I began to cry… no more activities, no more music and what purpose will my music diploma have? I studied music during ten years for nothing! Each time I thought of this, I began to cry. 

Then, one day, I heard this : “Don’t cry anymore.
In heaven, you won’t be an invalid.” 

I understood this message and I had to accept God’s will over me. That is, to walk on the road of suffering to the cross. Give up everything I liked and wanted to do in life with the poor means that I had.

In spite of being weak, I had to take care of my dear mom and make an effort not to complain nor let on that I was suffering. The other members of my family wanted to place mom in a home and I in a hospital. One evening, there was a family reunion to decide, and everyone agreed to place us. Mom was near me and was crying. I got up with determination, took mom in my arms and told them what I thought. “You have no right to decide mom’s fate, for I am the one living with her and taking care of her. I have the help of my boarder, Miss Louisa Garant. This person has been living with us for the past few months and is satisfied.” That was the end of the discussion. After mom’s death, Miss Louisa Garant lived with me for twenty-nine years and was eighty-nine. But, during the final ten years, the roles were changed. I was the one taking care of her. It was very difficult for she was less and less coherent and required a lot of care and attention. During the night, she wanted to go out to see her mother. 

One day, she looked at me and said : “I’m afraid of you!” I wanted to reassure her but she began shouting : “I’m afraid of you! You’re ugly and your eyes are evil.” Then, she went to her room, placed furniture in front of her door so that I couldn’t come in. She would hide her money, forget where she had put it and then accuse me of stealing it. I would spend hours looking for her money. At first, it was easy enough, for she had three hiding places : under the bed, in the second drawer on the right, or in her purse. 

Another day, she was angry and accused me again of taking her money that amounted to nine hundred dollars. There were people with me who helped me look for it. I was so exhausted that I sat on the sofa and prayed to God to help me find her money. Suddenly, I began looking at the window… The shade was down and I noticed that the cord and ring were no longer there. How was she able to pull down the shade? I come closer to see and put things back in order. Surprise! How could this be? She had removed the little stick holding the cord and ring and had stuffed the money all rolled up like cigarettes. There was the nine hundred dollars.

Thanks be to God! 

Only He could help me find it. This lasted for years. I think that if I had had another room to rent, I would have rented it to Sherlock Holms.

One day, the sister of Miss Garant came to have her spend a few days with her niece in Ottawa. Her sister, before leaving, asked me to give her Miss Garant’s purse. But I didn’t know that Miss Garant had put her will in her purse.

The next day, her nephew came to get Miss Garant’s clothes, saying that she would be living at his place. And he added : “She needs her family and we need her presence for we love her.” I couldn’t understand it. For twenty-nine years, not a single member of the family had come to see her. Miss Garant never came back!

A few days later, her nephew came over and told me that I had influenced his aunt in making her will. He wanted to bring me to court because his aunt had given the Jesuits two thousand dollars in mass stipends.  “You are responsible for all this!”

I told him : “When your aunt, Miss Louisa Garant, made her will, I was not with her. I was with two friends in the living room. These two persons can witness that I was not with your aunt. Miss Louisa Garant was with the notary and two witnesses. I also can accuse you because Miss Garant is not dead! Who gave you permission to read her will? This is very serious!” He was shouting : “I did not read her will. No! No!” - “Well, how come you know that Miss Garant gave two thousand dollars to the Jesuits for masses and that the thirty-two thousand dollars remaining were given to your wife, your niece, to take care of her, under the pretext that she needed her family and that you loved her? These are all lies. When you came for her after twenty-nine years, you said : “She will be happy to live with her family.”

Another lie. You kept Miss Garant for a month and then placed her in a home. You came here asking me to take Miss Garant back for she wouldn’t stop crying. She wanted to come back and live with me.” He wanted me to keep her a few days and then place her in a home. So, Miss Garant, having lived in Montreal for thirty years, the government would have had to pay for her (social services) and her nephew and niece would have kept the money.

I refused to take her back. It wasn’t honest or human to do what they did. Miss Garant didn’t deserve this. It went against my conscience! Because I refused, he kept Miss Garant for a week and placed her in a home in Ottawa. She died a few months later.

So much suffering because of money!

On a human level, I was alone to fight with this family, especially with the nephew!

The funeral of Miss Garant took place at the parish of the Immaculate Conception. I thanked the Pastor. He told me : “The nephew wanted the money (2000$) of his aunt saying that she wasn’t coherent when she made her will.” I told the Pastor : “How come that Miss Garant wasn’t coherent for the mass stipends and coherent for the thirty-two thousand dollars they got from her? There was only one will!” The Pastor answered : “Pray for them.” and I said : “And you can say the masses for her.”