When we finally came to that conclusion, suddenly the Lord intervened. A few days later the clinic called and said there had been an error. Relief… that was all I felt. We thought the trial was over. Not even close. The day of our son's birth had finally arrived, September 25, 2008. I never had the chance to hold him or see him. The doctors had immediately sent him to the nearest children's hospital, thirty-five miles from where I was. He was born with malrotation. They told us he had a 10% chance of surviving. I lost it! I couldn't believe God was allowing this to happen. I couldn't think straight; I was overcome with such pain. That night, as I lay there sobbing in the solitude of my room, I remember pleading with God that I was now ready to give up the fight. I had been fighting so long and so hard that I had missed all of the Lord's warnings. That night in the hospital I gave up my life to teach. I didn't want to, but I promised him I would. Moments later the surgeon called me from the children's hospital. He informed me that he had found the problem, Hirshsprungs disease. Not fatal but certainly a lifelong disease that can be