If Scripture tells us not to be anxious, then why do we get butterflies and sweaty palms?
It started with a trip to a walk-in clinic. Then there was the phone call, "You need to come to the hospital right now." Then came the diagnosis: "We think you have leukemia." This is Mike's story.
In the darkness of my gloom, I saw his outstretched hand, and I heard these words: "Though you would not see it, I am the one you have been seeking all your life."
We thought we were over, no chance to restart, what future remains after falling apart?