As I begin to think of a new year, I’ve decided instead of New Year’s resolutions, I will choose a word. My word for 2025 is resilience. When you have cancer, each new day is a gift. Some days are better than others. I choose to be resilient which for me means to embrace my inner strength to help me tackle any new challenges that come my way. It also means to adapt, endure and continue to move forward in the best way I can. I will focus on what I can control. I will trust God and the promises of His Word. I will lean on family and friends for love, support and prayers. I will celebrate small victories. I will find strength in the purpose of this journey by focusing on things that matter. I will practice emotional honesty and self compassion by facing each day with courage and hope. I won’t be perfect but I will be persistent. I am hopeful that 2025 will be a great year!

My cancer diagnosis has brought a heightened awareness of life’s fragility, making holidays with my family and friends especially meaningful. It reminds me to be in the present moment and celebrate the time I have with the people I love. Time together becomes more precious, filled with gratitude for each moment we share laughter, memories or just the simple things in life. The holidays are also an opportunity to create new memories, share love, and focus on what truly matters.

Also, my faith in God is a relationship that has sustained me and given me the strength to continue on in this journey which, at times, has been extremely hard physically and mentally. His love and grace are with me every step of the way. The support and love of my family, friends and my relationship with God is a gift I am eternally grateful for. Merry Christmas!

I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in September 2023. Cancer is not a gift but what I have learned from it is. One aspect of this is relationships; old and new, close friends and acquaintances and all the others that fall in between. Cancer has an uncanny way of reshaping the landscape of our relationships. In my own journey as a patient, I’ve found that cancer can make friends drift out of reach and unexpected allies emerge. Some people seem unsure of what to say or how to help, and their silent discomfort creates a distance I never thought would appear. Others, though, lean in – reaching out with compassionate words, prayers, shared laughter, and unyielding patience when I’m feeling overwhelmed or just when I need a kind word. I am blessed to have a very strong support system; but sometimes I find this journey can be a delicate, unpredictable balancing act: while I wish to maintain normalcy and talk about anything but my health, there’s no escaping that my cancer diagnosis has planted itself at the center of my life. What once flowed easily – light conversations, spontaneous get-togethers, plans made without a second thought now unfolds through the filter of my treatment schedule and energy levels.