dying. I am broken and bleeding just as surely as if someone shot me with a gun. I’m not going to make it. And then I felt it. An arm around my shoulders. I heard a whisper in my ear, “You’re not alone.” I knew without looking there was not another person beside me, yet I could feel that arm around me. Maybe I really was crazy. Maybe I had lost it after all. Or maybe what I claimed to believe in was true. I could feel the calm enter my body. Jesus was there with me in that church. I wasn’t crazy.