My mother-in-law came to visit us and spent three weeks with us. Just as she was about to return home, she fell sick. It started with her heart, then moved to her joints, and then affected her memory. You could tell her something, and she would later claim you never mentioned it. My wife was worried, and so was I. We took her to the hospital. She was checked and discharged but was asked to return a week later.

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Her heart calmed after a series of medications, and her memory returned to normal. But her joints wouldn’t cooperate, no matter what we tried. She walked with a limp. Some days, she was stuck in bed and couldn’t do anything. “My waist—I couldn’t sleep all night. It’s been hurting as if someone is sawing through the bones there.”

We went back to the hospital, and she was X-rayed. She was given painkillers and an injection. A week later, we were back at the hospital with the same hip problem. The doctor said he couldn’t find anything wrong with the X-ray and suggested it might be due to old age. My mother-in-law retorted, “How old am I to be going through this pain? I’m still young. I know older people who walk just fine.”

When we got home, my mother-in-law said she would never return to that doctor because he didn’t know his job. “If he did, he wouldn’t tell me my pain is because of old age,” she said.

She resorted to herbal medicine. She said she had heard the name of a herbal hospital on the radio and asked us to take her there. We did. The man checked her waist and prescribed some herbal drugs; some to boil and drink, some to insert, and some to rub around her waist.

When we returned, my wife suggested, “Why don’t you go home and let Dad help you with this herbal treatment?”

Before her illness, she had never spent more than a week with us. It was one of our rules that in-laws or family members don’t stay longer than a week. We agreed on this not because we didn’t love them, but because we didn’t want interference, especially from the mother’s side.

My mother only visited when we had our kids and named them. My dad came only for the first child and didn’t return for the others. My wife’s dad doesn’t even know where we live, but her mom has been a constant visitor, breaking the one-week rule whenever she felt like it.

We didn’t push her out because we knew that, even if time turned to stone, she would leave one day. But then she got sick and stayed with us for months. I wasn’t worried about her staying, but when we all went to work and the kids went to school, we were concerned about her mobility and who would care for her in an emergency. We wanted her to go back home so her husband could help.

“No,” she said, “if I go, how will the herbal doctor take care of me if things go wrong? Let me stay for a while and get better before I go back.” My wife retorted, “It’s not safe to leave you alone here in your condition.” She shot back, “Am I complaining? I’m fine. I even get peace of mind to rest when you’re gone.”

She would turn on the TV from morning till evening, watching Second Chance TV and following divine directions from there. She would join the prayers and still complain about delayed miracles. “Come and see worse diseases getting healing,” she said. “Why isn’t mine going? Has God forsaken me?”

Some evenings were worse than others. Some dawns, she would stay awake, complaining of pain and lack of sleep. When we mentioned the hospital, her mood changed. She insisted the herbal medicine was working and the *sobolo* she got from Second Chance was helping too. My wife told me, “Don’t mind her. It’s because we always rush to her side that she’s acting like this. I think she’s exaggerating her pain.”

I responded, “You’re not the one going through it, so you can say what’s sweet to your ears.”

When we had our first kid and hired a nanny, we installed a CCTV camera to monitor how the nanny was caring for the baby. We checked the footage every night after work until we were satisfied the nanny was doing a good job. Since she had left, the CCTV was still there, but we hardly ever checked the clips.

One Saturday night, out of boredom, I decided to check and see what the kids were doing when we weren’t around. I saw my mother-in-law walking without a limp. I thought, “Wait, is this an old clip?” I checked the date, and it was the most recent. I continued watching, focusing on her movements. The TV was on, and this woman was dancing to the music—not just a little dancing, but going up and down, clapping. She would go low and come up high in the name of the Lord, using the same waist she claimed was in pain.

I called my wife, “Come and see a miracle.” She watched carefully and said, “I knew it. It didn’t add up. Didn’t I tell you she was exaggerating her pain?” I said, “So she made us buy drugs for a sickness that didn’t exist?” My wife retorted, “She simply doesn’t want to go back. I’m surprised you didn’t see through the charade.”

I burst out laughing. I spent the whole evening watching the kind of miracle my mother-in-law was. She was a huge spectacle when no one was home. She would cook, bring the food to the hall, spread her legs on the floor, and eat while watching TV. But when we were around, she pretended she couldn’t even squat a little.

I asked my wife, “What are we supposed to do with this information?” She answered, “Must we do anything besides sending her away? Tomorrow after church, she’ll be on her way.”

She called her dad and narrated the whole story to him. The phone wasn’t on speaker, but I could hear the thunderous roar of his laughter. He asked my wife to give the phone to her mother. When my wife called her to come for the phone, she said, “How can I come when I can’t walk?” My wife retorted, “You can’t walk? You, who run where angels fear to tread?”

She handed her the phone, and my father-in-law told her, “I don’t like any disgrace. Come home. They’ve caught you. They know you don’t have any waist problems. You’re mine. Please come home. Come and pretend on me, I don’t mind.” She fought back, “What are you saying? Am I a child to say I’m sick when I’m not? What are you all saying? That I’m stupid enough to call myself sick when I’m not?”

My wife showed her the clip on the phone. “This was just yesterday. Aren’t you the same person dancing in the video? See here, aren’t you the one going up and down, dancing for the Lord?” She watched with egg on her face. Quiet, ashamed, and disoriented. She came for the phone with a limp. When she went back to her room, she was confused about whether to limp or walk normally.

I told her she could stay but didn’t need to act sick. “We’re okay with having you here. Stay if you don’t want to go back.”

She left on Monday morning while we were at work and put the keys under the doormat. I called to ask if she had arrived, but she didn’t pick up. I called my father-in-law, and he said she was home. I pleaded with him to give her the phone, and he did. I thanked her for her help while she was here and told her I expected her to come back soon. She answered, “When I get better, I may come back.”

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We haven’t seen her in a year, the longest she has stayed away from us. She doesn’t even call unless we call her. But as long as we know she’s fine and not sick, we’re fine too, and we don’t hold anything against her. She loves us so much that she wanted to spend eternity with us, through sickness and in health. I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

—George B.

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