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!

​If you feel like we’ve been a little quiet lately, it is definitely not because anything is wrong, but quite the opposite. We’ve just been soaking in the simple gift of a few days of normal life with EvanMarie and the entire family. Over Thanksgiving break, we were able to travel to the Hill Country for four wonderful days and visit some of our favorite spots in and around New Braunfels. The weather was beautiful! Slow mornings on the green river, the crisp air in the sunshine, and some deep breaths brought refreshment and peace to our whole family. Watching EvanMarie “run”, laugh, and explore with her siblings felt like a glimpse of the life we’re fighting so hard for, a life full of joy, freedom, and beauty.

Of course, the week wasn’t without its challenges. There were some tough moments of nausea, exhaustion, and (oh the) medicine-taking. We also had to make two trips back to the hospital for blood lab work. But thanks be to God, all of EvanMarie’s levels looked great, and she didn’t need a transfusion or to stay overnight. Even in those hard interruptions, we felt God’s mercy guiding us and protecting her peace. 

Now we move into December, a month that holds both uncertainty and joy. Our doctors have told us that surgery will likely take place between cycle four and five, so much remains unknown in these coming weeks. Yet, at the same time, we have so much to celebrate this month: EvanMarie turns three on December 21st, and of course just a few days later we rejoice that Christ is born, Emmanuel, God with us. He is really with us! 

So we step into this month holding joy and grief, gratitude and uncertainty, fear of the unknown and abandonment to God’s will, the cross and the creche. Through it all, we are learning again and again that God is near to us, steady, faithful, and truly at work in every detail, even the ones that break our hearts. 

Please continue to pray for us, for the doctors, strength for our family, and peace and comfort for EvanMarie as she begins cycle four of chemotherapy. The deeper we get into this thing, the more we cherish your love, your words, and your prayers. You are carrying us more than you know. Stay with us. We thank God for you. 

Glory to Him in all things! Glory!