#beyondthebell August 13, 2026
In support of
#miraclesforAvryJo
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#miraclesforAvryJo
Well, this is a long one. But it’s straight from my heart as I sit here sipping my coffee while Avry Jo devours her second piece of chocolate chip banana bread. ☕️🍌🤎 So grab yourself a coffee and settle in for a little read…
I’m not Gona lie. I’m pretty lost. Who are we after cancer? That sends tingles thro my body just saying that. Like is it really safe to say that??! It’s not a clean slate. Done and done. There are still side affects, medications, and many things to still manage. There are still scans and routine tests. After holding our breath for so many months- now we’re ’free to live.’ How do you even do that??? We’ve gotten so good at living in crisis, what if we don’t know how to just…live?
The simple things like meal planning, and grocery shopping, and weekly house cleaning- I haven’t done any of that in 18 months.
And then there’s a small tinge of guilt of being the survivor… while I still watch my friends fight for their babies, and my friends who are grieving the loss of theirs❤️🩹 (hello empath)
I feel so lost. Cancer became our life. We surrounded our life around supporting our girl in the best possible way, whatever that meant, at whatever cost. Nothing else mattered.
I thought I’d feel so relieved and light. Like JOY would exude our existence NOW’
And while we are estatic over our girlie being cancer Free- it’s taking a bit to sink in. Especially after our scare 2 weeks ago when the oncologist found a spot on her brain and told us ‘it could be nothing, or she might only have a few weeks left.’
The emotional roller coaster has taken it toll. Our brains and bodies are trying to keep Up.
Identity crisis. Who are we after cancer??
For so long, cancer answered nearly every question for us.
Who are we today? Avry’s family fighting cancer.
What matters today? Keeping her alive.
What do we do next? Whatever oncology says.
Where do we need to be? Hospital. Clinic. Surgery. Scan. Treatment.
What is our purpose? Survive. Protect. Advocate. Endure.
There was almost no room to ask, What do I want? What does our family enjoy? Who are we becoming? What does normal even look like?
-And now the emergency is ending—but our nervous systems and identities don’t automatically receive that memo.
This is creating this strange collision of relief + gratitude + grief + fear + emptiness + disorientation. We desperately wanted normal life back, and then normal life arrives and somehow doesn’t feel normal anymore.
So we’re asking:
Who am I when we’re not fighting for my child’s life?
Who are Jake and I when we aren’t dividing and conquering a crisis?
Who are we as a family when our calendar isn’t dictated by cancer?
What do we talk about when there isn’t another scan, count, medication, or treatment?
What is fun now?
What do I even like anymore?
Who gets to be responsible for me now that I don’t have to hold everyone else together?
And maybe the biggest one:
Can we learn how to live without needing a crisis to tell us what matters?
This doesn’t have to be about getting the old us back. Eighteen months like that changes people. There isn’t a road backward.
The work now may be meeting the people we became.
Learning what makes me laugh now.
Learning who Jake is outside survival mode.
Learning what our marriage looks like when you’re not simply trying to make it through another day.
Letting our kids discover what family life feels like without cancer occupying the center of it.
Finding things that have absolutely no purpose except that they’re fun.
Learning that an ordinary Tuesday is something worth living, too.
Cancer taught our family how to survive something unimaginable.
Now comes a completely different kind of healing: learning how to live when survival is no longer the assignment.
One thing we’re being really intentional about in this next season is who we surround ourselves with.
We want to fill our lives and our home with people who are life-giving. People who love deeply, laugh easily, celebrate freely, and genuinely want good things for the people around them.
Kind people. Happy people. Encouraging people. People who bring peace into a room, make ordinary days more fun, and remind you that life is such a gift.
We’re not looking for perfect people—we certainly aren’t perfect ourselves. We just want to build a life surrounded by people who value relationships, choose kindness, show up for one another, and make this already-beautiful life a little sweeter.
And more than anything, we’re asking God to lead us in it.
Lord, make the open doors unmistakably open and the closed doors unmistakably closed. Bring the people into our lives who You know belong in this next chapter, and give us the wisdom and grace to release the relationships and spaces that no longer do.
We’ve learned just how precious life is.
So we want to spend ours loving God, loving people, laughing a whole lot, making beautiful memories, and surrounding ourselves with people who make us grateful to be alive. 🤍
Ps. We’re resting this week. Will update soon on our celebratory weekend!
I’m not Gona lie. I’m pretty lost. Who are we after cancer? That sends tingles thro my body just saying that. Like is it really safe to say that??! It’s not a clean slate. Done and done. There are still side affects, medications, and many things to still manage. There are still scans and routine tests. After holding our breath for so many months- now we’re ’free to live.’ How do you even do that??? We’ve gotten so good at living in crisis, what if we don’t know how to just…live?
The simple things like meal planning, and grocery shopping, and weekly house cleaning- I haven’t done any of that in 18 months.
And then there’s a small tinge of guilt of being the survivor… while I still watch my friends fight for their babies, and my friends who are grieving the loss of theirs❤️🩹 (hello empath)
I feel so lost. Cancer became our life. We surrounded our life around supporting our girl in the best possible way, whatever that meant, at whatever cost. Nothing else mattered.
I thought I’d feel so relieved and light. Like JOY would exude our existence NOW’
And while we are estatic over our girlie being cancer Free- it’s taking a bit to sink in. Especially after our scare 2 weeks ago when the oncologist found a spot on her brain and told us ‘it could be nothing, or she might only have a few weeks left.’
The emotional roller coaster has taken it toll. Our brains and bodies are trying to keep Up.
Identity crisis. Who are we after cancer??
For so long, cancer answered nearly every question for us.
Who are we today? Avry’s family fighting cancer.
What matters today? Keeping her alive.
What do we do next? Whatever oncology says.
Where do we need to be? Hospital. Clinic. Surgery. Scan. Treatment.
What is our purpose? Survive. Protect. Advocate. Endure.
There was almost no room to ask, What do I want? What does our family enjoy? Who are we becoming? What does normal even look like?
-And now the emergency is ending—but our nervous systems and identities don’t automatically receive that memo.
This is creating this strange collision of relief + gratitude + grief + fear + emptiness + disorientation. We desperately wanted normal life back, and then normal life arrives and somehow doesn’t feel normal anymore.
So we’re asking:
Who am I when we’re not fighting for my child’s life?
Who are Jake and I when we aren’t dividing and conquering a crisis?
Who are we as a family when our calendar isn’t dictated by cancer?
What do we talk about when there isn’t another scan, count, medication, or treatment?
What is fun now?
What do I even like anymore?
Who gets to be responsible for me now that I don’t have to hold everyone else together?
And maybe the biggest one:
Can we learn how to live without needing a crisis to tell us what matters?
This doesn’t have to be about getting the old us back. Eighteen months like that changes people. There isn’t a road backward.
The work now may be meeting the people we became.
Learning what makes me laugh now.
Learning who Jake is outside survival mode.
Learning what our marriage looks like when you’re not simply trying to make it through another day.
Letting our kids discover what family life feels like without cancer occupying the center of it.
Finding things that have absolutely no purpose except that they’re fun.
Learning that an ordinary Tuesday is something worth living, too.
Cancer taught our family how to survive something unimaginable.
Now comes a completely different kind of healing: learning how to live when survival is no longer the assignment.
One thing we’re being really intentional about in this next season is who we surround ourselves with.
We want to fill our lives and our home with people who are life-giving. People who love deeply, laugh easily, celebrate freely, and genuinely want good things for the people around them.
Kind people. Happy people. Encouraging people. People who bring peace into a room, make ordinary days more fun, and remind you that life is such a gift.
We’re not looking for perfect people—we certainly aren’t perfect ourselves. We just want to build a life surrounded by people who value relationships, choose kindness, show up for one another, and make this already-beautiful life a little sweeter.
And more than anything, we’re asking God to lead us in it.
Lord, make the open doors unmistakably open and the closed doors unmistakably closed. Bring the people into our lives who You know belong in this next chapter, and give us the wisdom and grace to release the relationships and spaces that no longer do.
We’ve learned just how precious life is.
So we want to spend ours loving God, loving people, laughing a whole lot, making beautiful memories, and surrounding ourselves with people who make us grateful to be alive. 🤍
Ps. We’re resting this week. Will update soon on our celebratory weekend!
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