By Sr. Nasilele Simushi, Dominican Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, Ndola CNCS Hub

On the evening of 2 April 2026, shortly after Vespers, what seemed like a simple twist of my foot became the beginning of an unexpected season of pain, silence, reflection and grace. I felt a sharp pain across the anterior side of my foot. At first, it appeared to be an ordinary sprain, but what seemed minor gradually developed into an injury that has now lasted for more than a month.

Movement became difficult. Every step brought pain and I could not move around without assistance. Any effort to walk or stand for long periods only worsened the condition by the end of the day. I found myself becoming increasingly dependent on others, something I was not accustomed to. As a result, I had to slow down, rest and focus on what I could still accomplish through my intellect and hands. Despite the challenges, I continued carrying out my apostolic responsibilities remotely to ensure my duties did not fall behind.

At times, I felt broken, especially when healing seemed distant. One question became particularly difficult to answer: “How are you feeling today?” Day after day, the symptoms remained the same and it became painful to repeatedly speak about the same discomfort without visible improvement. I always hoped to express progress, but the reality remained unchanged. The emotional stress eventually manifested physically through a cold sore, herpes labialis caused by the herpes simplex virus type 1 (HSV-1).

Am I the only person who has ever experienced pain or illness? Certainly not. Yet I choose to share this experience because it became what I now call “my precious moment with self,” a season of deep reflection, vulnerability and spiritual encounter.

I never imagined that the injury would extend from days into weeks and eventually a month. I remember thinking to myself: “This is not good timing.”

Falling ill during Holy Week was especially difficult. For Catholics, Holy Week is a sacred period marked by profound spiritual exercises that invite believers to enter deeply into the Paschal Mystery of Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection. Unfortunately, I was unable to physically participate in those liturgical celebrations.

From my room, I could hear the singing, prayers and movement from the chapel, yet I remained confined indoors. In that silence, however, I learned to pray differently. I prayed at my own pace and in a manner that was gentle and agreeable to my whole being. It became a quieter but deeply personal spiritual experience.

During this prescribed period of rest, I came to appreciate an important truth: “Rest is inevitable. Every person needs to find time for total rest. If you do not, the events of life will suggest it for you.”

I also learned patience. Healing could not be rushed. My body needed time to regenerate naturally and I had to accept that recovery follows different timelines for different people because of our unique physical makeup. I gradually discovered what aggravated the pain and what brought relief. Above all, I learned that true healing demanded rest.

One of the most difficult aspects of the journey was not having a clear diagnosis. The uncertainty tested my patience many times. Yet even in the absence of clear answers, I slowly learned to trust whatever God was allowing to unfold in my life.

“Each unanswered prayer was a gift from God.”

In moments of fear, uncertainty and sadness, I continued speaking to God gently. I did not force my prayers. Sometimes I prayed silently within my heart, at other times I spoke aloud or simply cried before Him. I expressed my disappointments honestly, especially when I did not respond positively to the proposed treatment.

Whenever my prayers appeared unanswered, I reminded myself that God’s silence does not mean absence. Rather, He sometimes works quietly through silent miracles that only reveal themselves with time. The spiritual images in my room became sources of comfort and encouragement. One image bore the Silozi words, “Bupilo bwaka bumwa mazoho a hao,” meaning, “My life is in Your hands.” Another carried the familiar words: “Jesus, I trust in You.”

In those moments, I felt assured that the Lord was gently carrying me, protecting me and allowing me to experience His grace in stillness. Though my foot remained painful, I became increasingly aware that the rest of my body was functioning well and that life itself remained a gift. What initially appeared to be an unfortunate interruption slowly revealed itself as a blessing in disguise, a sacred opportunity to rest, reflect and contemplate the greatness of God.

My Sisters in the community cared for me with extraordinary love and compassion. They attended to my needs just as they would for any ill Sister in the congregation. As someone accustomed to caring for others, I now found myself in the unfamiliar position of receiving care.

“I learned that I too can receive help from others and not always be the helper.”

In many ways, the Lord allowed me to experience life from “the patient’s chair.”

I treasured every visit, phone call, message and gesture of concern shown to me by my sisters, family members, friends and co-workers. My community ensured that all my physical and spiritual needs were met. Each day, a Sister faithfully brought me Holy Communion. I also received recorded homilies and at times, entire Mass recordings that nourished my spirit during my confinement.

Whenever my spirit grew weak, the prayers and encouragement of others strengthened me. Some prayed novenas for my recovery, while others simply sent words of hope and encouragement. Through all this, I experienced holistic care, physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally.

As I reflect on this ongoing journey, though I am not yet fully recovered, I continue to trust in my Creator. God understands what He is doing in my life and continues to guide me through this season with love and purpose.

To anyone experiencing illness, pain, or uncertainty, my message is simple: “Surrender everything to God, trust in Him completely and allow reliable people to help you.”

There will always be many voices offering opinions and suggestions about what should be done. Sometimes these voices can overwhelm and confuse an already burdened mind. In such moments, it is important to remain calm and trust the people into whose care God has placed you.

Illness can become even heavier when surrounded by fear and confusion. Therefore, allow yourself peace. Trust the natural process of healing, embrace rest and believe that even painful seasons can become moments of grace, transformation and deeper encounter with God.