What would you do if a doctor looked you in the eyes and told you that you had six months to one year to live… if you walked away from their recommended treatment? Would fear take over? Would you follow their plan, even if something inside you didn’t sit right? Or would you pause… and lean into something deeper? For me, this isn’t a hypothetical question. On September 22nd, 2023, I sat in my oncologist’s office and told him I was quitting chemo. That’s when I heard those words. Six months to one year to live. Just like that—my life reduced to a timeline. A prediction. A ceiling placed over a future only God truly knows. I remember the weight of that moment. The silence that followed. The choice sitting right in front of me—louder than anything else in the room. Do I partner with fear… or do I trust God? Because here’s the truth I had to wrestle with: doctors are human. They are trained, educated, and experienced—but they are not God. They don’t hold the pen to my story. The...
I shared this highlighted blog picture on social media 6 years ago today, March 3, 2020. Completely unaware that only days later I would experience the devastating loss of Nolan on March 14th, and then in 2023 stand face to face with a cancer diagnosis. When I shared it, it was just a quote that resonated. It felt encouraging. Hopeful. Inspiring. I didn’t realize it was prophetic. Just days after sharing it, our family was shattered by the unexpected loss of Nolan. Grief came like a tidal wave — disorienting, suffocating, relentless. Watching my sister walk through the unimaginable. Watching my parents carry a pain no parent should ever have to bear. Loving on my sweet niece Sophie as she tried to understand a world without her brother. All of it unfolding in the middle of COVID — isolation, uncertainty, distance compounding the sorrow. And in the midst of it, I was navigating being away from Keith in Nevada, where he was holding down our home and small business, carryi...