Hope with me.

One of the things I’ve learned since my diagnosis is that people often don’t know what to do with suffering.

When someone hears the words “brain cancer,” or “cancer” in general, something shifts. Conversations can become awkward. People don’t know whether to talk about the future, ask questions, or avoid the topic altogether. Sometimes I can almost see the uncertainty on their faces.

Let me try to help.

If you’ve wondered how to interact with someone walking through a difficult diagnosis, here are a few things I’ve learned about myself along the way.

1. I Am Still a Human Being With a God-Given Purpose

My diagnosis didn’t erase my calling.

I still dream. I still hope. I still get excited about the things God has placed in my heart.

For me, that’s music and worship leading.

I spend time listening to worship, planning songs I’d love to lead someday, thinking through transitions, and imagining what it will be like to serve again when I’m healthy enough. Those thoughts don’t make me sad—they give me hope.

Hope with me.

Tell me you can’t wait to see me leading worship again. Tell me you can picture me singing that song. Tell me you’re excited for the day I’m back on the team.

Those comments remind me that others still see God’s purpose in my life. They remind me that people are cheering me on.

2. I Am Hopeful.

I understand my situation and I understand where my hope is found.

I know the realities. I know the risks. I know the limitations I currently face.

But I also know what God has done in my life over the last year.

I’ve watched Him carry me through paralysis, rehabilitation, uncertainty, and recovery. I’ve seen improvement after improvement, even when progress felt painfully slow.

That’s why I’m hopeful.

Hope isn’t denial.

Hope isn’t pretending everything is okay.

Hope is choosing to believe that God is still working, even when the outcome hasn’t fully arrived.

I’m not spending my days asking, “Why me?” anymore. I’ve already wrestled through many of those questions.

Do I still have hard days? Absolutely.

Do I miss the energy I used to have? Every day.

Do I wish recovery moved faster? Of course.

But I am not hopeless.

I’m hopeful. Be hopeful with me.

3. My Diagnosis Isn’t Ideal, But I’m Not Unhappy.

Would I choose brain cancer?

Not a chance.

Am I praying for healing?

Every single day.

Am I believing Jesus can heal me?

Absolutely.

But I’ve also learned that my peace isn’t dependent on my diagnosis disappearing.

My peace comes from Christ.

At the end of the day, I know I belong to Him. I know He is good. I know He is with me. And I know that no matter what happens, I will ultimately be okay.

Because of that, I don’t spend much time worrying.

Fear and grief are natural responses, but hope is a more powerful one!

I’m already working hard, praying and expectant on God moving every day.

So I invite you to:

Come spend time with me.

Take me for coffee.

Go for a drive with me.

Laugh with me.

Talk about normal things, and live life to the fullest with me.

Presence is often more helpful than concern.

4. If I Get Emotional, It’s usually not because I’m sad.

There have been moments when I’ve cried unexpectedly in front of people.

To be honest, that’s been one of the hardest things for me.

It’s embarrassing.

But what many people don’t realize is that it isn’t always emotional.

My brain is still healing.

There is still ongoing recovery happening every day. Pathways are still being rebuilt. My brain doesn’t always filter information the way it once did.

Sometimes what looks like sadness is actually overstimulation.

Sometimes what looks like emotional distress is simply my brain struggling to process everything around me.

The best way I can describe it is that I don’t necessarily feel sad—I feel overwhelmed.

My brain gets overloaded.

The tears come.

And then, often as quickly as they arrived, they pass.

It’s not me falling apart.

I’m simply learning how to live in a brain that is still healing.

I Am Still Here

I am still a person.

I am still a wife.

I am still a friend.

I am still a worship leader.

Most importantly, I am still a daughter of God.

Cancer may have changed parts of my life, but it has not changed my identity.

God still has purpose for me.

God still has work for me to do.

And when the time is right, I look forward to stepping back into the things He’s called me to.

More than anything, I can’t wait to worship again.

Not because my circumstances will finally be perfect, but because Jesus has been faithful through every imperfect moment.

Hope Is Not the Same as Denial

One of the greatest misconceptions about hope is that it requires us to ignore reality.

Biblical hope does the opposite.

Hope looks directly at reality and still chooses to trust God.

The apostle Paul wrote:

“Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” (2 Corinthians 4:16)

Paul wasn’t denying hardship. He wasn’t pretending suffering wasn’t real.

He simply understood that God’s work was bigger than what could be seen on the surface.

That verse has become increasingly meaningful to me.

My body has limitations.

My energy isn’t what it used to be.

Recovery is slower than I would like.

Yet at the same time, God is renewing me.

He is teaching me patience.

He is teaching me trust.

He is teaching me that purpose doesn’t disappear simply because life changes.

The world often sees illness and assumes the story is ending.

God sees illness and continues writing the story.

So please don’t pity me.

Pray with me.

Hope with me.

Believe with me.

Because the God who began a good work is still faithful to complete it.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” — Romans 15:13