When we first got the news of our daughter’s diagnosis, there was no hesitation in turning to our family and friends for prayer.
And there was no hesitation from them either.
They jumped in and helped in ways I never could have expected.
Friends brought us clothes and soft blankets to the hospital that very first night. Our older girls weren’t driving yet, and suddenly we needed help with everything. Friends picked them up after school every day, drove them to practices and games, and made sure their lives could keep moving when ours had suddenly stopped.
Grandparents went on full duty. Willingly. Graciously.
Our fridge was stocked. Not just with food, but with the things people knew our girls would eat and the things they knew I loved. Fruit was washed, cut up, and put into containers so the kids could grab it themselves.
I could go on and on.
There were so many blessings poured over us during those first few months. In one of the hardest seasons of our lives, we felt incredibly loved.
But the next step felt scary. Our small circle knew what was going on. But school had started, and people were beginning to talk about what was happening with our family. I knew we needed more people praying, and that meant eventually telling our small town what we were facing.
Telling our community felt hard.
There is something different about sharing the hardest parts of your life outside of your immediate circle. It can feel intimidating and incredibly vulnerable.
People will talk. Rumors will start. Facts can get twisted. Things can be exaggerated, and other things can be downplayed.
And when you are already trying to process news that has completely changed your life, your emotions aren't exactly stable. Letting more people in also means opening yourself up to all of those things.
More than anything, I was scared somebody would say something to our girls.
But there was another side of it that mattered more to me than all of those fears.
I believed with everything in me that we needed as many people praying over Tylie as possible.
And that mattered more.
So we shared.
We didn't share every detail. We still don't.
I have learned that you can invite people into your story without giving them access to every part of it. Some things can remain sacred and protected while still allowing others to come alongside you.
And I don't regret telling our community.
Not for one second.
Last night was the county fair.
In a small town like ours, there are familiar faces everywhere. You walk through the crowd waving, smiling, stopping for quick conversations with people you have known for years.
But last night, several of those conversations stopped me in my tracks.
People came up to tell me how grateful they were that Tylie was doing so well.
They told me they were still praying for her.
One person told me Tylie is still on their weekly Bible study prayer list.
All this time later.
Still praying.
My heart was so full.
Standing there in the middle of our little county fair, I was reminded again how incredibly blessed we are to live in a community that loves hard.
And it made me think about how scary it once felt to let all of these people into the hard parts of our story.
Because sharing the hard is difficult.
It can feel uncomfortable.
It can make you feel exposed.
But I also believe it is what we were meant to do.
God didn't design us to live completely on our own. He intended us to live in community—to love one another, pray for one another, carry each other's burdens, and celebrate each other's victories.
We weren't designed to fight every battle alone.
Sometimes we convince ourselves that being strong means handling the hard quietly. That we should pull ourselves together before we let anyone see us. That we need to have answers before we tell people what is happening.
But maybe strength also looks like saying,
We need you to pray.
Maybe it looks like letting someone drive your kids to practice.
Letting someone fill your refrigerator.
Letting someone bring you a blanket when you don't even know what you need.
Letting grandparents take over.
Letting people pray when you don't have the words yourself.
And then, years later, walking through the county fair and finding out that some of those people never stopped praying.
There is something incredibly beautiful about that.
Sharing the hard can be intimidating. It can make you feel vulnerable. And no, everyone doesn't need to know every detail of your story.
But don't let the fear of being vulnerable convince you that you have to carry the hard alone.
You might be surprised by the people the Lord has already placed around you.
The ones who will show up.
The ones who will carry what you can't.
The ones who will pray when you are tired.
And the ones who, years later, will stop you in a crowd just to remind you—
We're still praying.
What a gift it is to be loved like that.
And what a gift it is to know that we were never meant to do the hard alone.
Matthew 18:20 NIV
“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”
Galatians 6:2 NIV
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”
I remember a saying that I saw in the first year. Pray for your circle, because when the enemy can't get to you, he will go after them.