Page 674 - Enders_Game_Full_Book

"Are you that man? Have you even asked for a healing?"
"I'm asking now," said Miro. And then, unbidden, tears came to his eyes. "O God," he whispered. "I'm so ashamed."
"Of what?" asked Quim. "Of having asked God for help? Of crying in front of your brother? Of your sins? Of your doubts?"
Miro shook his head. He didn't know. These questions were all too hard. Then he realized that he did know the answer. He held out his arms from his sides. "Of this body," he said.
Quirn reached out and took his arms near the shoulder, drew them toward him, his hands sliding down Miro's arms until he was clasping Miro's wrists. "This is my body which is given for you, he told us. The way you gave your body for the pequeninos. For the little ones."
"Yeah, Quim, but he got his body back, right?"
"He died, too."
"Is that how I get healed? Find a way to die?"
"Don't be an ass," said Quim. "Christ didn't kill himself. That was Judas's ploy."
Miro's anger exploded. "All those people who get their colds cured, who get their migraines miraculously taken from them-- are you telling me they deserve more from God than I do?"
"Maybe it isn't based on what you deserve. Maybe it's based on what you need."
Miro lunged forward, seizing the front of Quim's robe between his halfspastic fingers. "I need my body back!"
"Maybe," said Quim.
"What do you mean maybe, you simpering smug asshole!"
"I mean," said Quim mildly, "that while you certainly want your body back, it may be that God, in his great wisdom, knows that for you to become the best man you can be, you need to spend a certain amount of time as a cripple."
"How much time?" Miro demanded.
"Certainly no longer than the rest of your life." Miro grunted in disgust and released Quim's robe. "Maybe less," said Quim. "I hope so."