My back wasn’t turned on God, though. In fact, I prayed the bravest prayer I’d prayed in my life. Through the uncontrollable weeping, the sobs stopping me from taking a full breath, and the ache filling my body because of the pressure, I cried, “God, please. I need You to do something. I can’t do this. I literally cannot do this.”
I watched the sun rise from my sister’s hospital room that Easter morning. I was weary. I was exhausted. I was limping. Not a literal limp, but a spiritual and emotional limp. Each and every step forward was filled with excruciating pain.