The woman, who I later learn is named Carla, starts speaking very slowly. “Can I share my testimony? Can I tell you about the obstacles God has moved for me?” As soon as she says the word “obstacle,” I am reminded of all the barriers I overcame to get to Dartmouth. The violence, drug addiction, mental illness, and lack of money. I never talk about it, not even with Earnell or Keli. Whenever I think about everything I went through to get here, emotion starts crawling up my throat, like it is right now. I shift uneasily in my chair and try to suck my tears back in, but a few still manage to escape down my cheeks. Maybe I’m self-sabotaging by not getting help and not talking about my problems, I think to myself.

“I was self-sabotaging,” Carla croons into the microphone. I look up in shock. She seems to be echoing my inner thoughts. “Deep down, I knew what I needed to do, but I felt like I wasn’t good enough. And I wasn’t. You know why?”

I stare at Carla, mesmerized. How can this white woman with pearls and boat shoes be channeling my exact thoughts?

She continues, looking directly into my eyes, as if she knows me. For a moment, I swear her pupils spin like Hypnotist Jerry’s. I look away, trying not to get sucked in. “I wasn’t good enough because I didn’t have the Lord in my life. There is only one way you can survive this journey,” she whispers into the mic. “You must answer the call.” I am dumbfounded thinking about the somersaulting letters from earlier that seemed to be referencing this moment. “Answering the call of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ has saved my life and it can save yours too,” she says, pointing at me.

Bryce is thrilled I’m the focus of Carla’s attention. He grins gleefully, pats his heart supportively, and then points up at the sky, less intensely than the watchers from earlier, signifying the presence of his all-consonants-pronounced Lord. The dorkiness of his gesture makes me want to throw up in my mouth. I nod my head affirmatively, as if we are on the same page, and then release myself from the pressure of his expectant gaze.