Moving Forward, One Step at a Time — For Now, All is Well

When Life Doesn’t Slow Down (But Grace Keeps Up)

It feels like forever since my last update.

I kept telling myself I’d write after the next scan or after the next treatment. But then another moment would come, and another. And here we are, months later.

The truth is—life hasn’t given me clear pauses. It’s been fast, overwhelming, and messy, but also overflowing with grace. And it’s time I share it with you.

A Milestone, A Memory, A Moment

Lucia turned one.

That sentence alone holds more emotion than I can put into words. The baby I carried while going through cancer treatment—is now toddling around with her toothy grin and sparkly eyes, completely unaware of how much she and I had already overcome just to be here.

I made a birthday reel to celebrate her, but if I’m being honest, it was for me too. A way of saying thank you, Lord—for the year we didn’t know we’d get, and for the joy that now fills it.

I still cry watching it. And apparently… so does everyone else.

I’ve lost count of how many people have messaged me some version of: “Yep, full-on crying over here.”
Honestly, I should’ve added a “Viewer Discretion: May cause crying in public” warning.

I added the video directly to the bottom of this post, so scroll down so you can watch it too—just maybe don’t open it in the middle of a crowded room.

Prom, Again

A few months ago, George and I went to an adult prom hosted by our sweet friends. I almost wasn’t able to go, being shortly after a chemo round, but I’m so glad I did.

We laughed, danced, and for a few hours, forgot about PET scans and blood counts and hospital gowns.

George and I first went to prom together 16 years ago, back when we were just two kids who had no idea what life would hold. So to be standing there again, after everything, felt like a full-circle moment only God could have written.

Becoming Godparents

In the midst of all this, we became godparents to our sweet nephew, Luke. Another unexpected gift—one that reminded me that life doesn’t just stop in suffering.

It multiplies.
It deepens.
It makes room for joy in ways you didn’t know were possible.

To stand beside him at the baptismal font felt like another full-circle moment—because I know the waters that poured over his head are the same waters that have held me afloat in this storm. Growing up, we didn’t really understand what it meant to be godparents. Back then it felt like you simply chose someone, took a special photo, and that was it. But now, after all we’ve walked through, we see it so differently. We understand the honor and the responsibility of this role, and we’re humbled that we get to be even a small part of Luke’s journey of faith.

We don’t take the title of godparents lightly. We pray we can live up to it—that we can walk with Luke, not just as family, but as bold witnesses of faith, hope, and love.

We hope to do everything we can (and more) to support his sweet parents in the beautiful, holy task of raising up another saint.

Closing One Chapter

I’ve officially finished another 8 rounds of chemo in mid-August and since then, I have bispecific infusions every 3 weeks.

The days after my last round felt like exhaling after holding my breath for too long—relieved, but still unsteady.

And then, not long after…

A Scare I Didn’t Expect

I started having a string of strange visual disturbances and pounding headaches—days in a row.

I didn’t want to overreact, but after everything we’ve been through, our oncologist didn’t want to take any chances either. So off to the ER we went, urgent MRI orders, and a little fearful of what was about to come.

We didn’t want to think the worst, but we were also thankful to get this confirmation scan that it hasn’t progressed to my brain.

But once again—thank God—everything came back clear. No spread. No real explanation, either.

Maybe healing. Maybe hormones. Maybe just life reminding us how fragile all of this still is.

Whatever it was, I don’t take clear for granted anymore.

I don’t take anything for granted anymore.

Continuing Another Chapter

I’m still receiving Glofitamab infusions every three weeks with no clear end in site, but I’m so grateful to finally be finished with chemo. There are still some lingering things I’m navigating—my blood counts drop after treatments, and we're keeping an eye on my liver, heart, and this stubborn cough. But I’m hopeful these will slowly improve in the months ahead.

Compared to how chemo knocked me down, this season feels like breathing again. My energy is returning. My appetite is back.

I’ve even started working out again—slowly, gently—rebuilding the strength I have lost. These days, every step feels like a small victory. I don’t know exactly where those steps will lead, but for now, I’m just grateful to be moving forward.

Facing My Fear

Then something happened that felt unrelated… but also not.

I was asked to speak to the moms group at our church—on community. Just the thought of it made me nervous. I’ve never liked public speaking.

But I knew this wasn’t just about getting over a fear. It was about stepping into something God had been gently preparing me for: sharing the deeper story. Not the one with the medical details and timelines, but the one with the tearful prayers, the midnight hope, the unseen strength of community.

It was hard.

But I did it. I stood up in front of all those beautiful women, trembling but trusting, and told the truth: that I would not have survived this year without the Church. Without people showing up with meals, prayers, texts, and hugs. Without the Body of Christ literally becoming His hands and feet in my life.

And somehow, in the process, I found that the fear of people faded—because I’ve stared down bigger fears than that.

And I’ve realized: I’m not here to please anyone. I’m here to glorify Him.

Everything else is just noise.

A Change of Scenery

Recently, we were able to sneak away on a trip to California with George's younger brother, his wife, and their sweet baby. We spent a few days up in the mountains of Springville and then made our way down to the beaches of Oceanside.

It was a lot of driving in between, but honestly, that ended up being one of the best parts—long stretches of road filled with deep conversations about life, faith, and everything happening in the world.

There was something so healing about being away, breathing in mountain air, resting by the ocean, and sharing that time together as a family.

What This Season Is Teaching Me

This season is strange.

I’m not in active chemo anymore, I’m still receiving bispecific infusions, and I’m still watched closely. Still monitored. Still carrying the weight of “What if?”

I used to be afraid of what people thought of me.
Now I care more about what God sees in me.

I used to cling to control.
Now I cling to trust.

I used to think strength meant pushing through.
Now I know it also means surrendering.

The weight of “what if” still lingers, but the promise of “God is with me” feels louder. And that’s where I choose to rest my heart.

Scripture That Sustains Me

• “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
  — Isaiah 41:10

• “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness…Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong”
  — 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

• “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”
  — John 13:7

Songs That Have Uplifted Me

• “Sunrise” – Forrest Frank

• “Humbled Heart” – Sarah Kroger

• “The Gardener” – Sarah Kroger

• “Can’t Steal My Joy” – Josiah Queen ft. Brandon Lake

Current Prayer Requests

• For continued clear scans and a good MRD result in the months ahead.

• For peace to overcome the lingering “what ifs” that creep in.

• For strength and joy to be poured into our family as we enter this next season.

• For the grace to walk faithfully in whatever comes next.

• For the soul of my dear friend Brittany, who recently passed away, and for her beautiful family—that they may be comforted and held closely by God’s love.

With all my love,

Blessy