Sarah Nyhan

A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish.

Months passed after I returned to working at Manna House. And one night I was playing cards with Julie and one of the women staying there. When I reached across the table to grab a card.

Didn’t think anything of it at the time. But at some point later, I realized I was in a lot of pain on my side. Then I started to realize that the pain wasn’t going away. And I couldn’t get comfortable at all. It started to concern me. I was scared something was really wrong.

Somehow the idea came to call you. Only to ask if you thought I should go to the emergency room.

I was surprised that you even answered. We had really only talked in passing at church. And it had been some time from even that.

But you were very calm and professional. I was impressed because you immediately sounded like you knew exactly what was going on. You informed me that I probably knocked a rib out of place and the pain was probably the rib poking where it shouldn’t. You said I didn’t need to go to the emergency room, but that the rib could take up to thirty days to go back into place.

You said you’d be happy to look at me after church the upcoming Wednesday night. I agreed to meet you then and we hung up the phone. Thankful for your help, but not looking forward to the long haul ahead of me until we met.

At least two more days passed before that Wednesday night rolled around. The whole time I was in excruciating pain. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t sleep. I was constantly moving to try to find a few minutes of rest. I was in so much pain that I was moaning over and over. And I was so tired because I couldn’t sleep well. Always waking up because I couldn’t find a comfortable position. Frustrated to the point of tears.

So Wednesday night finally arrives. I am still in so much pain, but I slip into church and sit in the back rows. Right in front of you so that you know that I am there. You always sat in the back. On almost the last row.

And I tried to focus on sitting as still as possible even though I was in so much pain and couldn’t get comfortable. No position seemed to work for more than a few seconds. I kept having to adjust and try not to moan and cry out in pain.

Finally I felt like Spirit told me to just relax. Rest. Specifically telling me that everything was going to work out and everything was going to be okay. “Just sit back, try to listen, and don’t worry”.

So I remember distinctly trying to let go of my fears and listen to the talk being given.

Before I knew it, the service was over. Like I blinked my eyes a few times and the talk was done. It seemed to go by that quick.

I immediately started to think about talking to you. I wanted to make sure you saw me. So I started to stand up and turn around to face you. That’s when I started moving my body and realizing I wasn’t in pain.

What?! How is that possible? I was in such excruciating pain for days just up until a few minutes ago. What happened?!

You’d think I’d be happy. I was finally without excruciating pain after several days of being near tears and hardly even able to sleep. But no, I only felt shame and fear. I was so afraid. Because now I’d have to tell you. And I didn’t want to see a look of disgust on your face. I didn’t want to be seen as one of those women who make things up to get attention. I didn’t want to be like that! That was one of my worst fears.

But there I was. About to look like a fool, like a drama queen. Dreading your response and the look you’d give me.

So when you turned to me, I sheepishly said, “I’m so sorry. You’re probably not going to believe this, but I was in excruciating pain all the way up until the start of the talk. When I felt Spirit tell me to relax, chill out, and not worry. So I started focusing on listening instead. And then now when I got up, I realized that I’m not in pain anymore. Something happened during the service and my pain is gone.”

Waiting for your response. Feeling sick to my stomach with fear.

But without skipping a beat, you quickly said, “I believe you. Miracles happen.”

I felt a huge relief wash over me. You didn’t look at me like I was crazy. You didn’t treat me like, “Yeah right, ‘miraculously healed’ – heard that one before. Sure, ok. Whatever you say.”

No, you acted like you actually believed me. And further more, like it was no big deal – in the sense of, “Of course God would heal you. Why wouldn’t He?”

That was such a huge relief. Because I believed in miracles too.

But some people are so quick to dismiss God actually moving in their lives. Especially in big ways.

If they can’t measure it, i.e. control it, then they’d rather avoid the messy talk of miracles that causes them to really engage. Not just hang out intellectually on the peripheral.

When God might want to speak to our hearts. Our broken hearts.

Blind and deaf with fear. All worked up. From thinking we know the ends of the stories as only we can anticipate and imagine them.

“Be still and know that I AM God.”

“You will not need to fight in this battle. Position yourselves, stand still and see the salvation of the Lord, who is with you”.

That was the night of our first real talk. Where we went in-depth and talked for hours. Where we kept talking as everyone left the church. Then kept talking as they locked up the building. Then kept talking as everyone left the parking lot. One of the last people there even drove by and asked us if we were alright. Just you and I. By one of our cars. Dark outside. Night.

Even talking about the book you wanted to write. Me writing down the title right then so we’d know for the future and be able to look back.

So unexpected, but once we got started it was like the talk between us flowed as easily as any ever had. Yet neither of us followed up. And it didn’t even occur to me to think anything further of it. I considered it a random gift of a great one-off conversation. And moved on.

Again we went back to our separate lives.