When Life Changes the Plan: Finding Grace in an Unexpected Season

I’ve sat down to write this post more times than I can count — and every time, the words get caught in my throat. How do you put into words a season that’s changed everything?

A few months ago, our family’s world shifted. My husband, Joel — my steady, kind, quietly funny partner in every sense — was diagnosed with cancer.

There’s no way to prepare for words like that. They land with a weight that takes your breath away, rearranging everything you thought was certain. Suddenly, the days look different. Time stretches and shrinks in strange ways. The little things become big things, and the big things… you just take them one moment at a time.

The Season We Didn’t For Plan

If you know me, you know I love to create, to plan, to build — to fill life with projects and purpose. I was finally feeling the momentum of everything I’d poured my heart into — Mahalo was really starting to take shape.

And then, almost overnight, life shifted.

It began on August 15th, when Joel went in to see our doctor for what we thought was just a swollen lymph node. Within days, we were swept into a blur of tests, scans, and specialist visits. In the two months since that appointment, we’ve had 56 doctor visits — more than some people have in a lifetime. Joel has had his wisdom teeth removed, and both a feeding tube and chemo port placed to prepare for the weeks of treatment ahead.

Everything that once felt urgent suddenly didn’t. The long to-do lists, the big launches, the content plans — they all faded quietly into the background. This new season asked something entirely different of me: to pause.

Our weeks are now built around Joel’s treatments — a rhythm that has become both exhausting and sacred in its own way. Each week, we settle into a quiet room for his chemo treatments, wrapped in our cozy blankets for four long hours. The hum of machines, the soft beeping, the steady drip — they’ve become the soundtrack of this chapter. It’s quiet there, and in that quiet, we’ve learned to find a kind of peace. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we just sit. Sometimes, I simply hold his hand and watch the sunlight move across the floor, feeling both helpless and profoundly grateful all at once.

Our mornings start early, often before sunrise, driving to radiation treatments. The world feels still then — dew on the fields, the roads almost empty. Those drives have become our time to talk, to laugh when we can, to just be.

And through all of this, we’ve been met with an incredible kindness from the people who care for Joel. The doctors and nurses greet him by name, always asking if he’s cold, or hungry, or thirsty. They adjust pillows, bring blankets, and go out of their way to make the unbearable a little more bearable. Their gentleness is something I’ll never forget.

We’ve also been deeply moved by the way our family and friends have shown up — bringing meals, sending cards, calling to check in, or simply showing up to sit beside us. Their love has carried us through in ways words can’t capture.

And in the midst of navigating the emotional weight of treatment, we’ve also been walking through the financial strain that often comes with it — time away from work, medical costs, and the uncertainty that shadows each new appointment. It’s not something people talk about often, but it’s part of the reality. And yet, even here, we’ve been surrounded by grace. Family and friends have stepped in quietly and generously — helping where they can, easing burdens we never imagined we’d face, and reminding us that community doesn’t just show up in words, but in action. We’ve been humbled again and again by that kind of love.

We are profoundly grateful that Joel’s particular type of cancer has a 95 percent cure rate, and his doctors have told us that because of his healthy lifestyle, that number is even higher.

But the flip side is that the treatment itself is brutal — 35 radiation sessions over seven weeks, five days a week, plus seven rounds of chemo. Food already tastes terrible, and as the weeks progress, the muscles in his neck will become weak making swallowing difficult, the cumulative effects of the radiation will burn his throat and eating will become terribly painful. Watching someone you love suffer and not being able to fix it — that’s the hardest part. It breaks you open in ways you can’t explain.

When we asked what we could have done differently — how something like this could happen — they looked at us kindly and said, “You’ve done everything right. It’s just bad luck.”

There’s something both heartbreaking and freeing in those words. It reminds us that even when you do all the “right” things — eat well, stay active, live intentionally — life can still throw you something you never saw coming. And that’s where faith, resilience, and community step in.

So we’ve learned to focus on the small wins — a day with more energy, a walk around the block, a good laugh, a meal that actually tastes okay. Those little moments have become our lifelines.

Between treatments, there are speech therapy sessions to strengthen his muscles and ensure he is able to keep swallowing food, lab appointments to track how his body is responding to treatment, acupuncture to ease side effects, and hydration visits to keep him stable. Last week alone, we had thirteen doctor appointments — thirteen reminders of how much care, science, and love it takes to hold someone through healing.

It’s not the kind of thing you plan for — it’s the kind that finds you when you least expect it. The kind that strips away everything nonessential and leaves you with only what matters most.

Finding Purpose in the Pause

When we first started Mahalo, it was about longevity — about living longer, healthier, happier lives. But these past months have reminded me that longevity isn’t measured only in years; it’s measured in depth. In presence. In love.

This pause — as hard as it’s been — is teaching me what real wellness looks like. It’s not just about what we eat or how we move. It’s about connection, purpose, and allowing ourselves to rest when life demands gentleness.

We’ve learned that healing doesn’t always look like progress. Sometimes, it looks like holding hands through the uncertainty. Sometimes, it looks like asking for help, or laughing at the small absurdities of hospital life. And sometimes, it’s just breathing through another day, together.

What Comes Next

I don’t know exactly where this journey will take us — but I do know that I want to keep sharing it honestly, with hope and heart. Mahalo has always been about community, and if there’s ever been a time to lean into that, it’s now.

So if you’re walking through your own version of a hard season — caregiving, change, grief, or simply slowing down when the world keeps spinning fast — I hope you find a bit of yourself in these words. You’re not alone.

In the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing more reflections from this season — starting with Purpose in the Pause: Finding Meaning in the Quiet Seasons of Life. It’s a piece about what this time has taught me: about slowing down, about love, and about finding meaning even in the mess.

Until then, be gentle with yourself. Rest when you need to. Notice the light. Let the small moments remind you that life — even now — is still achingly beautiful.

If you’d like to stay updated on Joel’s journey, I’m sharing more frequent, real-time updates on our CaringBridge page. It’s become a space where I can write honestly about the highs, the lows, and the tiny moments of grace we’re holding onto.

CaringBridge: https://www.caringbridge.org/site/1e26ab73-7fe8-11f0-9083-cdbac7cce68c?utm_source=website_share&utm_medium=share_button&utm_term=&utm_content=link_share_button&utm_campaign=private_home_page

And for those who have asked how to help, we’ve created a GoFundMe to support the mounting medical costs, daily trips for treatment, time away from work, and all the unexpected expenses that come with this season. Truly — every share, every donation, every bit of encouragement helps lighten the load.

GoFundMe: https://share.google/SoEBPxxVyfaZD6dds

❤️ Mahalo

If this resonated with you, I’d love to invite you into our Mahalo community on Mighty Networks. It’s a space where you’ll find connection, encouragement, and resources to help you live a happier, healthier, more meaningful life—surrounded by people who truly get it.

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👉 Join us here – your seat is waiting. We can’t wait to welcome you in.