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On a chilly Monday night, the second night of fall, 2001, my eighteen-year-old daughter lost control of her car on the way home. Ejected in a rollover, Amy suffered a devastating brain injury. As she lay in a coma on life support, the doctors warned me that if she ever regained consciousness, my only child would never remember who she once was, or what she once wanted out of life. From having witnessed the long, hard suffering of her beloved grandmother, Amy had made it clear to me what she wanted me to do if something happened to her that would rob her of her independence, her clarity of mind, and her dignity. So, out of love, I made her a promise... ...a promise that would ultimately pit me against my boundless attachment to her, against motherly instinct, against church doctrine...and against God Himself, or so I thought. (click image to view detail)