It’s Saturday afternoon and lingering in the background of my day is the reminder that tomorrow is Sunday, and so my thoughts keep coming back to God.

Not my God who confuses and comforts me, not your God, whom you may believe is the only God, my mind returns to my daughter Zoe’s God, the one who made her the way she is, with her unshakable spirit yet too-shaky muscles, with her abundant full-of-love, happy heart that lives in a body that is fragile and weak. Zoe is 11 years old now, and is finally finding her faith in an unexpected place.