For most of my life I ignored God, believing religion caused more trouble than good. Then something happened that made me question everything.

Naomi suddenly let out a scream. Less than an hour later, she was in the ICU, in such a critical condition that the doctors asked if we wanted to continue treatment.

The doctors told us to leave — but warned that Naomi might not survive the journey.

After four months in hospitals, it was time to go home — and face a reality we weren’t ready for.

A tune I couldn’t shake, a book Naomi brought home, a song, and a moment in the hospital parking lot — they began to form a pattern.

As life slowly settled into a rhythm, I began to reflect on everything that had happened — and the “coincidences” became harder to ignore.

When the usual therapies stopped leading anywhere, I began looking elsewhere.

Just when I thought I had found a way forward, someone pointed me in a completely different direction.

Eager to trace the message back to its source, I came up with a plan — one that led somewhere far more specific than I expected.

When doubts about the source of the message resurfaced, I went looking for reassurance.

The moment came when I knew I was being called — and that I had to respond.

Now that I had decided to become Catholic, I was eager to speak with a priest. But things didn’t go as I had imagined.

There was something about the drawing Naomi had made on the day of her cardiac arrest.

One retreat, three unexpected encounters.

For weeks, I wondered what “Light from Light” really meant — until one night, I was given an answer.

I didn’t feel like going that evening. But something unexpected happened.

Some things happened that we couldn’t explain — and still cannot.