A misty morning does not signify a cloudy day.
Anonymous

Ireceived an amazing call the other night. It was from Cory.

You'll remember I began this book with the story of Cory, the one whose family had pushed her out of the home onto emotional "black ice." For over eleven years I'd heard nothing from her. I'd assumed she had died of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, the terminal disease she had the last time I saw her, blind and deaf, in a hospital.

As I wrote the chapter, however, I thought of another pastor who knew her. I called him to talk over what he remembered of Cory, and he surprised me with an address where he thought she might be living. I wrote, and Cory called a few days later.

Cory is doing great!

She eventually left that Burbank hospital in which I last saw her. Her eyesight and hearing had returned, and she had regained some use of her limbs. She set up life in a studio apartment with a visiting nurse to help her. But although she was determined to make it, she didn't. Her disease, ...