God exists. I know this to be true, not just from my faith in Christ, but from an intense and personal experience—one I didn’t ask for and I wasn’t looking—but that came all the same.
It was another early morning at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital in Ohio. My four-year-old son was undergoing yet another surgery to repair what the doctors called a TEF, or tracheoesophageal fistula—a birth defect involving a collapsed trachea with vocal cord paralysis. His esophagus was not properly connected and although it had been repaired on his second day of life, he still had other issues that threatened a normal life.
