Three years ago last week, I sat on the deck of our rented cabin, looking at the early morning sun break over the Smoky Mountains. My husband and son were asleep in their beds and I was looking forward to the solitude of a cup of coffee with a view that felt like a prayer.
Then I opened Jennifer’s email.
“I have been diagnosed with what the doctors believed to be Lou Gehrig’s disease, also known as ALS. Clearly this is not the diagnosis anyone would ever want.”