August 4, 2025, is a date that will remain etched in my heart forever. Today I walked alongside my dear friend Elly as she faced her third cycle of chemotherapy, and I witnessed courage that left me speechless.

For those who don't know us, Elly and I share a friendship that has become love woven into the very fabric of our lives. We speak each other's language, understanding one another's humor, anxieties, and deepest fears without explanation. No matter what life throws at us, we always find a way to make each other laugh, even in the darkest moments. 

Today, when alone, Elly had anxiety and didn't want to go in the cancer clinic. Yet, we found ourselves giggling in a dimly lit parking lot while attempting Polish accents. Then there was the moment she completely misunderstood something I had said and thought I was singing my own praises, cue more uncontrollable laughter.  During her final hours under the cold cap, in an attempt to release pressure around her eye, a pink ear warmer was strategically placed inside the cap. It was short-lived, but she resembled nothing short of a pirate. It was quite the sight.

I've always known her as someone who lights up every room she enters. Cancer may be trying to dim that light, but it's failing miserably. Even in her weakest moments, she asks about my day, remembers my struggles, and somehow finds ways to encourage me.

Watching Elly endure the agony of cold capping, a brutal process she subjects herself to in hopes of preserving her hair, reveals a strength I struggle to put into words. The determination in her eyes as she pushes through each wave of discomfort shows me what true resilience looks like. Yet even in this pain, we found moments of laughter today.

Our husbands might roll their eyes at what they consider "too much information," but for us, there are no boundaries or filters; this is simply how we love. We've witnessed each other through every season: the triumphs and failures, the messy and the magnificent. This cancer journey is no different; we're walking through it together, just as we always have.

This journey isn't just physically brutal; it's emotionally devastating, too. The most heartbreaking part of loving someone through cancer is that overwhelming feeling of helplessness, like nothing you do could possibly be enough. But I'm learning that feeling is a lie designed to steal my hope.

During worship on Sunday, the song "Defender" touched something deep in my soul: "And all I did was praise, all I need to do is worship. Lord, I will just bow down, I'm just gonna stay still." These words reminded me that sometimes the most powerful thing I can do is simply be present and trust in something greater than myself.

In moments when I feel overwhelmed by helplessness, I'm clinging to these truths:

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." - 1 Peter 5:7

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." - Proverbs 3:5-6

"Be still, and know that I am God." - Psalm 46:10

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." - Matthew 11:28

And here's some friendly advice: if you don't have your own Elly cheering you on from the sidelines, it's time to start looking. Everyone deserves a friend who will show up, hold space, and love you through anything life brings your way.

I'm asking you to join me in lifting Elly up through prayer and praise during this season. Your support means everything to both of us.

For ongoing prayer requests, updates, and specific ways to help, please check Elly’s support page, where needs are posted as they arise.

With love and gratitude,

Brittany