Whether it’s working on a dead-end project, being criticized for something you volunteered to do, putting up with a toddler's tantrum or figuring out how to tactfully respond to an infuriating email –  we all reach the end of ourselves at one time or another.

I type long, articulate arguments that will surely sway the masses to see the world as I see it. Then I systematically deconstruct my “brilliance,” ferociously pecking the delete key.

There I sat in the family waiting room, an obvious outsider somehow dropped into this deeply personal moment. When their mom walked in with the chaplain not far behind, we all knew what was coming; in the course of one afternoon, their lives would be changed forever.