As spring began to bloom in 2025, life felt steady—new job, another birthday, fresh beginnings. But one phone call from my mom in April changed everything: “I’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer.”
The words felt distant, almost unreal. The joy I had felt about my new job faded, replaced by a single thought: I needed to be with her. I was grateful the doctors had caught the cancer early, yet my mind kept returning to the statistics: each year, millions of women face this diagnosis. Women under 40 are affected, too. I was still too young for a mammogram, but the thought lingered.
On the phone that day, my mom told me she had skipped her mammogram in 2023. The following year, while getting out of the bathtub, she felt a painful lump in her chest. She prayed it was nothing serious. Weeks later, the doctor confirmed it: stage one breast cancer.
When she got home that day, she stood in the middle of her living room. Letters she had written to herself covered the walls, and photos of her children sat on the end table. She cried out to God. “Help me, Lord,” she yelled, while K-LOVE played softly in the background.
For me, living halfway across the country in Louisiana—a place I had taken a job years ago but no longer felt connected to—the news was a turning point. I already had my own life challenges. How could I support her from so far away?
Virtual appointments helped, but they couldn’t replace being there in person. Perhaps God was calling me home. Later that day, she called again, sounding frantic. “When are you coming home?” Her voice trembled. I knew then I was her advocate. God had already assigned me this role.
Soon after, I dropped everything, quit my job, and flew home. I hadn’t seen my mom in four years. She had a lumpectomy surgery days before I arrived. Her mood was up and down, filled with fear and uncertainty. After reviewing the pathology report, her medical team recommended chemotherapy to reduce the chance of the cancer returning. She didn’t want chemotherapy, but the doctors explained it was the best option for her.
God had given me more roles than one. I naturally settled into my role as caregiver, medical advocate, and of course, daughter. God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. Despite the challenges, I discovered I was stronger than I thought. I wasn’t too emotional because I had to understand my mom’s condition in a complex way—not only to protect her, but to truly comprehend what she was enduring.
I witnessed the challenges of recovery firsthand. I watched the doctor drain fluid from her breast after numbing it, seeing how uncomfortable and tired she was. Afterwards, for post-surgery and recovery, she had to wear a special bra to maintain pressure on the affected area.
For that special bra, we used a small S’mores stress mushy she had given me the day I arrived. It had been stored in an old holiday bag inside a stocking from two Christmases ago. I thought it was funny—it felt like taking a gift meant for me and repurposing it to care for her.
Gradually, our routines became sacred: enjoying dinner at The Habit, shopping trips to Wal-Mart and Lucky’s, helping her with post-surgery exercises and follow-up appointments.
I noticed my mom centered her days on feeding neighborhood cats late at night. It seemed a little crazy to me, but since the neighborhood was safe, I gave her a 9 p.m. curfew instead of her usual midnight routine. I also noticed how much she loved cooking simple, seasoned-to-the-bone dinners for the two of us. Coming home to the smell of short ribs and broccoli, I felt like a child again. I was even meeting new friends—something I hadn’t done in Louisiana.
I realized how much we shared in common: we both needed nourishment, attention, and, most of all, trust and commitment. Connecting with my mom, helping her heal, and quietly tending to my own heart felt like God giving us beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3).
Her chemotherapy began in September. She will receive treatments once a week for four months. It’s a frightening road, but I am grateful to walk it alongside her. I trust that God can use even life’s hardest news to draw hearts closer, restore what was once broken, and fill our days with His grace.
“Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” Exodus 20:12
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