Testimony of Healing January 13, 2003 Issue

Spiritual healing isn't chancy

Jenny Sawyer

I was in my element that day over spring break, racing down the powdery slopes on a pair of skis I'd been given as a Christmas present.

My mom, sister, and I had taken an extended weekend trip to Lutsen, a ski area north of Duluth, Minnesota, where we'd hoped to catch some late skiing before the season was over. My sister and I were making the most of that Saturday, knowing we'd have only half of Sunday to ski before we'd be on our way back home.

For the most part, the snow had been perfect—not too packed, not too powdery. But late that Saturday afternoon, as I carved my way down a steep, narrow mountain pass, I hit an icy spot, followed by a boulder-sized chunk of snow, which sent me careening out of control, and then tumbling partway down the otherwise carefully-groomed slope.

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