I held up the stubborn pen and squinted at it: “I know that you’re God’s pen because everything belongs to him,” I said. Late this December evening, neither myself nor my faithful pen seemed to know what to write. My memory of the day held missing time. So I stared into the virgin white page, decided to jot down whatever came to mind, and trust the rest to God’s pen. As I began to write, I had no idea that this would be the most important night of my life.