Now, I was mad at God, but also counting on God to make her better. I wanted to stay on God's good side; I just wasn't sure how. I'd gone wrong somewhere.
Since Emily had been diagnosed, six months earlier, I’d called out to my grandmother for help. Maybe it was the heat of the car, but I could feel her with me.
When Emily was diagnosed, I prayed all the time, especially at night when my mind refused to rest. I recited 'Our Father' on repeat to quiet the voices.
How was I supposed to get through Christmas Day while the rest of the world celebrated? No one could tell me.
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