After a whole week at home surrounded by her family and friends and her favorite things, our precious EvanMarie returned to the hospital today for more disease assessment. This time, she underwent another bone marrow biopsy.

She was so very brave today. She handled the procedure beautifully, and we felt the covering of your prayers over her and us the entire time. Even in the hardest moments, there was a steady peace that can only be described as grace. She is now back snug in her bed at home and happy. She should only be sore for a few days. 

If you remember, last time this test was performed, small amounts of cancer were found in her bone marrow. Today we pray boldly that the chemotherapy she has already endured has cleared it completely. We now wait with hope for the results, trusting that God has been at work in ways seen and unseen.

On February 19, EvanMarie will be admitted for approximately one month to begin an autologous stem cell transplant or bone marrow transplant (BMT). The stem cells collected from her last fall will be returned to her after extremely high doses of chemotherapy, given with the hope of eliminating any remaining cancer cells and resetting her immune system. And she will undergo this intense process TWICE.

It is a lot to take in for us. And yet, we remain steady and hopeful. 

If you are still reading please pray with us.

Pray for her comfort through the next few days. Pray for courage and protection as we approach transplant. Pray that every remaining cancer cell would be eradicated. Pray for peace to guard our hearts.

We are beginning the Surrender Novena again tonight and warmly invite you to join us. “Jesus, I surrender myself to You, take care of everything.”

Thank you, from the depths of our hearts, for walking with us this far and for holding us in prayer. We believe in grace. We believe in miracles. We know God hears our prayers.

​Dear friends, we wanted to share the results of EvanMarie’s MIBG scan honestly and from the heart. Her Curie score came back as a 1. Medically, this is an expected result and is not bad news. And yet, after months of better-than-expected and even extraordinary progress, this news landed with a quiet thud.

It caught us off guard because it feels, once again, like a diagnosis, a reminder that our dear daughter still has cancer, a nasty and aggressive form of childhood cancer. We always knew this would be a long and difficult fight, but this result brings that truth back into sharp focus. We are just not finished yet. 

And so, dear friends, we keep going.

We continue to fight.
We continue to hope.
We continue to storm heaven for EvanMarie’s complete healing.

Today, we once again surrender our daughter into God’s eternal and good plan, trusting that He is still at work, even when the news is harder to hold than expected. Thank you for standing with us, praying with us, and believing in miracles with us as we press on together.

​If you’ve been wondering how EvanMarie has been doing, we apologize for the radio silence. This has been the slowest and hardest recovery from chemotherapy so far. It’s been a long stretch that tested everyone in our family, especially EvanMarie. But today we finally have some good news: she’s feeling better, and she hasn’t experienced the extreme nausea in over 24 hours. Thank God. That feels like a real turning point. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for your ongoing prayers.

Now we turn toward the next step in her disease assessment. Today, EvanMarie will undergo another MIBG scan. You may remember this is the scan from October 16th, when her Curie score came back as a 2 (!) when we were bracing ourselves for something closer to a 22. This time, we are praying boldly and with hope for a score of 0, meaning no active cancer in her body. Regardless of the outcome, we surrender fully to God’s will. 

Please pray especially for her comfort. She will need to undergo anesthesia, and the recovery from that is often difficult for her. Pray for peace, gentle rest, and for God’s continued healing hand to be clearly at work. We expect miracles. 

As always, thank you for staying with us. We cherish your presence. Blessed Stanley, pray for us!

​After about 36 hours back at home, we had to return to the Emergency Room at Texas Children’s Hospital. It was so good to be home, but truthfully, EvanMarie never really felt well enough to enjoy her normal comforts or routine. As hard as it is, this turn is not unexpected. The powerful medications she’s receiving in chemotherapy are making it difficult for her to keep food and fluids down. Apparently this is not uncommon right on the heals of surgery. Our primary team is now recommending IV fluids and anti-nausea medication to help her body through these side effects. So, here we are. 

Today, we are asking for urgent prayers, that the side effects would soften, that her little body would find relief, and that she would be wrapped in comfort and peace. As always, we place our hope in the healing power of Jesus, trusting that He is near and attentive to every need.

Thank you for lifting our sweet girl up today. Your prayers mean everything to us. And say a prayer for her mama and daddy and siblings too while you are at it. This is a beautiful and horrific battle we are engaged in, one that we are fighting together. God’s grace sustains us. 

Blessed Stanley, our brother, pray for us. 
AMDG

On Wednesday we returned to the hospital for cycle five of EvanMarie’s chemotherapy, stepping once again into this familiar rhythm of trust and endurance. This round includes cisplatin, a powerful drug that asks a lot of her small body. Its nickname is splat. Any guesses why? We know from experience that the nausea builds, that the days can grow heavy, and that recovery sometimes stretches longer than we’d like. Last time, it led to weeks of sickness and a blood transfusion, reminders of just how hard this fight can be sometimes. It’s exhausting.

And yet, we come back with hope.

Even now, EvanMarie is doing well, still spunky, silly, and radiant, still reminding us that joy and laughter can live right alongside suffering. And so, we place her again into God’s care, trusting that He who has carried her this far will not let her go now.

Please continue to pray for her comfort and peace, that her body would be protected, that the nausea would be softened, and that she doesn’t get discouraged in this fight. We trust that every prayer matters, that none are wasted, and that God is very near in this place. He hears us! 

Friends, the light is still breaking in. Love is still at work. And hope has not left this room. We are grateful you are still here with us.

​To God be the Glory in all things.

​We’re home! And we are so grateful. EvanMarie continues to amaze her doctors, recovering faster than 99% of children her age who undergo this kind of surgery. When we said we weren’t surprised, our primary oncologist smiled and said, “We still are.” We have no doubt she is being carried by prayer.

That said, we are exhausted, and the road ahead is still long. We are taking this one day, sometimes one moment at a time. Please continue to pray for EvanMarie’s healing, and for strength, rest, and peace for our whole family as we keep walking forward together.

Being home earlier than expected feels like another small miracle, and we receive it with deep gratitude. Thank you for continuing to walk with us and hold us up in prayer. 

Glory to God in all things.

​We hardly have the words for today, only deep gratitude and overwhelming relief.

Early this morning, we rose before dawn for the biggest day yet in EvanMarie’s treatment: major surgery to remove her primary tumor, which had been wrapped around vital organs and arteries in her chest and abdomen. We were told to expect an all-day surgery, possibly lasting into the night, because of its size and complexity. Instead (won’t he do it?) the surgery lasted only about three hours! 

Not surprisingly, her surgeon came to us immediately and shared some incredible news: the chemotherapy had again worked far better than anticipated. The tumor had shrunk significantly, and as it was removed, he said it appeared non-viable, essentially dead. 

We are filled with awe. 

We believe in miracles. Doctors bring extraordinary skill and dedication, but God is greater still. We truly believe your prayers and fasting have reached heaven, and that the mercy of God is at work in our daughter’s healing.

In moments like this, we are learning again what it means to stay present to the present moment, not racing ahead to what comes next, but trusting that God is with us here, now. Right now, today He has met us with mercy. Right now, He has carried EvanMarie through something enormous. Right now, we give thanks.

Now we enter the recovery phase, which will be very challenging. EvanMarie won’t be able to eat or drink for a time, and the incision pain will be significant. She’ll remain on pain medication and in the hospital for the next week and no doubt be hooked up to all kinds of machines. She’ll be back on January 21st for her fifth cycle of Chemotherapy and then her care team will reassess the situation before moving into the radiation phase. Please, please continue to pray for her comfort, peace, and strength in the days ahead. These will be some of the hardest days yet.

We also want to say thank you on behalf of our entire family, especially EvanMarie’s eight siblings, who have carried this journey in their own brave and tender ways. Your prayers, messages, meals, and quiet acts of love have sustained them too. As we move into this next phase, they will continue to need your support and prayers alongside their little sister.

This evening, above all else, we praise God for His goodness and give thanks for this extraordinary gift of hope. EvanMarie has crossed another milestone on her journey to healing. 

To God be the Glory! Thank you baby Jesus!

I’m still adjusting to what has become of our life.

It feels obvious to say it, but time is no longer measured the way it once was. Forever forward, our family will speak in the language of before cancer and after. That dividing line is sharp and permanent.

And yet, as with all things that live in the future, it’s impossible to know what the after will actually look like.

So my daily battle (sometimes hourly, sometimes minute by minute) is to stay present to the present. To keep my feet planted in the moment God has given me. To focus on what is true, good, and beautiful right now, instead of letting my mind race ahead to places I can’t survive yet.

Presence has become an act of faith. Faith in a God who is with us. Emmanuel.

Of course, plans must still be made. Life doesn’t pause just because your heart is breaking. Right now, our plans revolve around a single date: January 5, the day EvanMarie is scheduled for surgery.

My fingers resist typing those words. That’s how badly I want to turn and run in the opposite direction of the reality they represent. Everything in me wants to protect her from pain, to shield her from suffering, to rewind time and choose a different path.

But there is no other path.

So I will move forward, toward my fear, toward her pain, toward suffering, with God as my strength. I am not alone on this path.

We met with her surgeon a couple of weeks ago. By every account, he is the absolute premier doctor for this kind of surgery. For that, we are profoundly grateful.

This is a man who will spend an entire day, and likely into the evening, working inside our daughter’s tiny body, carefully and painstakingly removing as much of the tumor as he safely can, while preserving precious organs in the area. Afterward, she will need at least a week of recovery in the hospital. About a week after that, she will begin her fifth cycle of chemotherapy.

To say that the weeks following surgery will be intense for our family feels like an understatement.

We are preparing for long days, for hard nights, for exhaustion layered on top of worry. We are preparing to love all nine of our children well while pouring every ounce of ourselves into caring for EvanMarie. Some days that really feels possible. Other days it feels utterly overwhelming. God come to our assistance.

As a mother, my instinct is to control, to manage, to anticipate every possible outcome. Cancer has undone that instinct entirely. It has left me with empty hands.

And maybe that is where God wants me. Us.

I am learning, slowly, imperfectly, to surrender not just the big things, but every small one too. To entrust my daughter’s body, my family’s well-being, and my own anxious heart to the mercy of our Heavenly Father.

Some days that surrender feels natural and peaceful.

Other days it feels like white-knuckled obedience.

I think both count.

Today, we are humbly asking for your continued prayers in the days ahead.

For the successful removal of every possible trace of cancer, or for the miraculous disappearance of all tumor.

For supernatural peace and comfort for EvanMarie, and for each member of our family as we walk through what’s coming.

For continued grace to surrender every aspect of our lives into God’s hands, trusting that He loves our daughter even more than we do.

If you feel called, we invite you to join us in fasting in any way you are willing and able. Small sacrifices offered in love matter more than we often realize.

We will also be praying the Surrender Novena beginning Sunday, December 28th, and ending on January 5th, the day of surgery. If you would like to pray with us, we would be deeply grateful.

Finally, we are inviting friends and family to commit to a half-hour block of prayer in Eucharistic Adoration during the surgery itself, so that every minute is covered in prayer. There is something incredibly comforting about knowing that at every moment, someone is lifting our daughter’s name to God. Please continue to beg the intercession of Blessed Stanley Rother for EvanMarie’s complete healing.

[Sign Up Here for a Block of Prayer]

I don’t know what the after will look like.

But today, I know this: God is here with us. He is present in this moment. And for now, that is enough.

Thank you for carrying us. Thank you for praying. Thank you for loving our daughter so well. To God be the Glory in all things.
​Cana

Today is a true celebration.
Today our EvanMarie turns three years old!

Three years ago, on the darkest night of the year (the winter solstice) this radiant little light burst into our lives. From the very beginning, she arrived with a kind of quiet authority: soft, joyful, expressive… and just a little judgey. We didn’t know then all the ways she would teach us how to live, but we know now, she’s been our teacher from day one.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t how we imagined celebrating her third birthday. These days include extra caution because of infection or injury, hospital visits woven into the week, uncertainty still ahead, and a valley we never expected to walk as a family. And yet, this is life for us. The real stuff. The kind of day-to-day living that doesn’t wait for things to be neat or easy before it shows up.
And somehow, the flowers are still blooming here.

EvanMarie teaches us daily how to be silly, how to do hard things, and how to be kind even when you’re feeling yucky. She still lives with a sense of wonder and awe at God’s creation, noticing things the rest of us rush right past. Lately, the blue tiles at the hospital have become lava. Even in the middle of the night, half asleep, she’ll gently warn us: “Don’t step on the lava.”

She also deeply relishes time with her people, and she has so many.
Eight siblings who dote on her every whim. Two sets of grandparents who love her fiercely. Aunts, uncles, and cousins who cheer her on. An entire class of peers at school whom she loves and misses dearly, sending her updates, notes, and most recently, a video of them singing Happy Birthday just for her.
And beyond all of that, there is Team EvanMarie, which seems to grow by the day. There are literally thousands of people lifting her up in daily prayer. As parents, we can’t imagine a better birthday gift than knowing our daughter has drawn so many hearts and minds toward God. Because of her, people are pausing, praying, hoping, believing.
She’s easy to rally around too, because she’s just so dang sweet! Please pray for her today.

This morning, as she opened a few birthday gifts, something small but holy happened. After giggling with delight at each unwrapped surprise, her first instinct wasn’t to hold onto the gift, but to hug the person who gave it. Again and again. No prompting. No reminders to “say thank you.” Just pure gratitude expressed through love and a tight EvanMarie hug.
It’s a moment we’ll never forget.

May we receive God’s manifold gifts with the same childlike disposition: open hands, open hearts, and then big gratitude.

All we have ever wanted for our children is life to the fullest. These past few months have been full of the real stuff of life: fear and courage, tears and laughter, loss of control and new, deeper trust. We would not have chosen this road. But here we are, discovering that this is where love grows deep, where it becomes tangible, where hope stops being theoretical and starts being lived. It is the fullest life we’ve ever experienced. 

Today, on her birthday, we are reminded to thank God for all of it: the mountaintops and the valleys. For life.
Today, we choose gratitude. Today, we celebrate life. Today, we marvel at the beauty that refuses to stop blooming.
Happy 3rd birthday, sweet EvanMarie. You are a gift to this world. And we are so very proud to be your parents!

Treatment update: Cycle 4 of chemotherapy was a doozy, definitely the hardest on her body and spirit so far. There were many days of utter exhaustion and tears. Chemo is rough at any age. But this past Wednesday she received a blood transfusion, and it perked her up in a big way. She’ll have regular labs this week, and surgery is scheduled for January 5th. More to come soon.
Thank God with us, the treatment is working! 

Blessed Stanley, pray for us! 
Glory to God in the Highest!

We have some great news to share! Yesterday, EvanMarie had a CT scan, one we didn’t even know was coming. Her surgeon needed updated images to prepare for the next step of surgery. The results were nothing short of phenomenal: her tumors have shrunk dramatically!

Our doctors were positively giddy sharing the news with us, and from what we understand, this kind of response to treatment is not typical. One doctor even said aloud what we already knew in our hearts, “this is a true answer to prayer”. It has to be true! We know of so many people, parishes, and religious communities lifting our little girl before the Lord, and we feel the power of those prayers every day. We know without doubt that our God is a mighty healer, and we continue to entrust EvanMarie’s healing completely to Him, rejoicing in all He has done so far.

Today, however, we are once again doing battle in a hospital room. Our brave girl is courageously enduring another round of chemotherapy (cycle four) as the powerful drugs course through her little body. The side effects are harsh, yet even here, her creative spunk and joyful play shine through. It’s so delightful to see her face light up as she recognizes familiar nurses and doctors, and a joy to watch their smiles in return when they realize she remembers them.

It’s hard to believe we’ve already reached this stage of treatment. These particular medications come with their own set of risks, ones that are hard for any parent to sign off on. So, we are on our knees praying specifically that her heart and bladder remain protected, healthy, and whole. Still, these medicines are a vital part of the arsenal being used to fight this disease, and we trust that God’s healing power is working through every drop.

Please continue to pray for strength, protection, and peace for EvanMarie, and for steady hands and wisdom for her medical team. Your prayers are carrying us!

Glory to God in all things! Today we are grateful for healing, for courage, and for the joy that refuses to fade.

​PS: Today the hospital had a Polar Express Christmas party. These jammies and this hat were delivered to our girl with a train ticket to the party!