She needs you.

Brain cancer is just an arduous journey. You teeter, wobbly arms spread, on the edge of life and death, like balancing on the lip of a cliff brimming with uncertainty below. You celebrate things like breathing, blinking, walking. You falter when hair falls. You crumble when they tell you that something you can't even see is killing your child. A victory is a clean scan, and just as you begin thanking God, the rug pulls itself from under your faithful feet.

As a parent, you are helplessly hoping for a miracle, for understanding, for someone to do something, please!

This time of year is hard here on Kyrie's blog. While I am constantly humbled by your incredible support to build something that didn't even exist in 2007, some days ... I remember. Some days, I'm oh-so-grateful that I remember vividly. That means she's still here to me. Some days ... it's just raw. Days like today.

Because of Kate. 

We need to you pray for Kate, pray like crazy. I say this because she is battling the same kind of cancer that took Kyrie. There is no cure. Could you imagine knowing that with your child? Could you imagine knowing that there's nothing proven that you could count on?

That's why faith is the crucial medication here.

Kate had such a great go last summer and fall. I mean, I really thought: This is it! The docs might have found a protocol that kicks this kind! Yesterday's scan says otherwise. They exhausted the big ideas with the last go of treatment. Pray for more ideas.

And just to remind us: The Kyrie Foundation's work pays for the development of those big ideas. We are working for the parents who are in these hospitals, rocking their bandaged babies. We want more options, more medicines, more collaboration, more information, more hope. In the meantime, more prayers, please.