**This week’s message is sent to you with permission from my friend and his family.**

My 30-year high school reunion was two weeks ago. I did not attend because I’m headed back to my home state of Iowa in just a few weeks to do a training for ICCAC – The Iowa Chapter of Children’s Advocacy Centers. I’m sad to have missed out, but often my training schedule precludes such events and I’ll connect with my close girlfriends when I’m home. No biggie. 

But you know who else didn’t make it? My friend, Brad. He’s battling cancer right now and it seems so unfair. His diagnosis, bravely shared on Facebook by his amazing wife Erin so that all of his friends can stay up-to-date, hit me hard. At 30 years post-graduation, my high school classmates have faced many challenges and we’ve lost some incredible classmates. But for me, knowing that Brad and his family are facing an unbearable diagnosis feels especially heartbreaking. 

When you grow up in a small town, you’re like family. For a moment, I lived just down from Brad on Main Street. I managed the football team he was on. I watched him play basketball. I can still picture him in his driveway practicing – I can still hear the dribbling, the swoosh. For a short time, he was my boyfriend in middle school (whatever that meant at the time, we were SO YOUNG!) and I still remember the perfume he bought me, wrapped in bright packaging he thoughtfully picked out. He moved on and I moved on, but where we come from, you just keep growing up together and supporting each other. 

Brad and his beautiful family now live in Arizona. His wife is an incredible horsewoman and he, too, has grown into a cowboy. A father. A grandfather. As most of you know, my son rodeos, and from all the way in Arizona, he checks in, buys raffle tickets, and sends messages of support. This last December, when my son made it to the Junior NFR, Brad and his wife showed up with their son to watch him compete. Erin was competing in other events, but they took time to show up for my kid. Imagine that, your childhood friend coming to watch your kid for what could be an 8-second performance, max! But he showed up. 

And so, it seems so crummy that just a few months later, he’s been diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer. He’s so tough and selfless; and his wife is amazing and even tougher. I’m filled with reminiscent thoughts and the realization that incredible, strong, human beings (even cowboys) are vulnerable. 

I pray for him today, for this humble cowboy, athlete, father, grandfather, husband and friend, that he allows himself to be fully human, loved, and supported. 
I pray for his wife, a fighter and advocate, that she finds strength and community. 
I pray for his mom, that she experiences no more heartache. 
I pray for his children and grandchildren to see a man whose heart is as big as the ocean, the full humanity of a person they look up to. 
I pray for his medical team to have wisdom, tenacity, and transparency in his treatment. 

Friends, maybe as I approach 50, I’m more nostalgic. Maybe as we age, we appreciate the little things a bit more. But I know this for sure – let the people who show up for you know how much you love them and their family. 

Kick cancer’s ass, my friend. We’re all rooting for you. 

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