If there’s one thing we’ve learned since Reid’s diagnosis last year, it’s that cancer doesn’t come with a handbook. Read my last update here.
There’s no step-by-step guide, no guaranteed roadmap—only a winding path of unknowns, questions, and moments that leave you standing still, trying to catch your breath. You learn quickly that grace must become your companion: grace for yourself, grace for the ones you love, and grace for the long, heavy days that seem to stretch on forever.
But even in the midst of all the unknowns, God gives us glimpses of His kindness—little mercies tucked into the chaos.
One of those mercies?
If we had rushed back into chemo immediately after Reid’s hospital stay, we would have missed something critical: the three tumors that had quietly appeared in his liver. By God’s grace, the radiologists saw them clearly in the PET scan and MRI. It was a hard discovery, but also one that led us to praise—because even the hard things, when seen in His timing, are laced with purpose.
Tomorrow, Reid has a tele-consultation with Interventional Radiology. We are praying for wisdom that only heaven can give—for steady hands, clear eyes, and for the ability to “burn off” all three tumors. One tumor is so small that we wonder if it will even be visible by ultrasound, and if it’s too small to treat right now.
But we are choosing trust over fear. Trusting that God sees what we cannot. Trusting that He is weaving together a story bigger and more beautiful than anything we could script for ourselves.
Today in church, they read Exodus 11:9:
“The Lord had said to Moses, ‘Pharaoh will refuse to listen to you—so that my wonders may be multiplied in Egypt.’”
That verse felt like it was written just for me.
As we walk through what feels like a dark valley, I can’t help but see the parallel—the children of Israel trapped under Pharaoh’s harsh rule, waiting, praying, wondering if freedom would ever come. They lived under the weight of a hardened heart and impossible circumstances. And yet… God wasn’t absent. He was working, even in what seemed like silence.
Why did He allow it?
“So that My wonders may be multiplied.”
That line stopped me in my tracks.
It reminds me, once again, that His plans are bigger, deeper, and infinitely better than mine. He allows the hard, not because He is distant, but because He is preparing to display His glory in ways we could never orchestrate ourselves.
What feels like unanswered prayers or closed doors may actually be setting the stage for wonders far greater than I could imagine.
His wonders multiplied.
His story, not mine.
His plan, not my own.
And today, in the middle of the waiting and the wondering, that gives me hope.
We would love your prayers as we walk into tomorrow.
Read more about his 18 day hospital stay HERE
