Proof The Bible Is True

The dinner tray sat beside my hospital bed untouched, the food getting colder by the minute. I’d been in this room at Methodist Hospital in Minneapolis for 10 days now, recovering from a broken pelvis and fractured ribs after an auto accident. The pain that permeated my body was constant and intense. At times I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, let alone eat. At 18, my life seemed over. Three months earlier, I’d lost my father to cancer. Now this. The world felt like a dark and empty place. Eating wasn’t going to change anything, and the mere sight of food only made me feel nauseous.

 

I looked away from the tray, my stomach rolling, as a nurse came into the room. Her eyes went directly to the dinner tray. “Amy, you’ve got to start eating again,” she said.

 

“I can’t” I said. “No matter what I do, I’ll still be in pain and my dad will still be gone.”

 

“If you don’t start eating,” the nurse said, “we might lose you too.”

 

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