More Than a Pink Ribbon: Supporting Someone With Breast Cancer

Dear Friends,

This October, breast cancer feels close.

My close friend from college, Nong, was diagnosed with breast cancer more than 20 years ago. Last year, the cancer returned in an aggressive form, and in May of this year, she passed away. She leaves behind four children.

Nong lived in Florida, and we had kept in touch over the years. During this past year, I called often, prayed with her, and checked in. There was so much I couldn’t change, but I wanted her to know I was there and that she was loved.

This October, I’m thinking of her and her children. Behind every ribbon is a person with a whole life, people who love her, and relationships that matter. For me, one of those people will always be Nong.

Women we know and care about are facing diagnoses, recovering from surgery, and trying to make room for healing in lives that were already full.

It has made me think about what it means to show up for someone when something happens that we cannot fix.

I think most of us want to help. We say, “Let me know if you need anything,” and we mean it. But I’m beginning to understand how much that sentence can ask of someone who is already overwhelmed. They have to figure out what they need, decide whether to ask, and find the energy to reach out.

Sometimes love needs to take a more specific shape.

“Can I bring dinner on Thursday?”

“Would it help if I picked up the children?”

“You don’t have to respond. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.”

Small offers. Ordinary things. The kind of help that makes a difficult day a little easier to get through.

October gives us a visible reminder to care. We wear pink, share stories, and honor people whose lives have been touched by breast cancer. I hope we also remember the woman who will still need support when the month is over.

The woman who may be tired of giving updates.

The woman who appreciates being called strong but would like somewhere she can admit she’s scared.

The woman who wants to talk about something other than cancer for a little while.

I keep thinking about how easily we can place expectations on someone who is hurting. We want them to stay positive. We want to hear that their faith is strong. We want the conversation to end with reassurance.

But sometimes they need us to stay with them in an answer that is hard to hear.

“I’m afraid.”

“I’m angry.”

“Today has been a lot.”

Can we make room for that without immediately trying to change it?

Last Sunday, we wrote about giving the men we love room to be human. That invitation belongs here, too. Women facing illness deserve room to feel whatever the day brings, without also having to make everyone around them comfortable.

My faith leads me to pray. It also asks something of my hands, my time, and my attention. I can pray for someone and bring the meal. I can offer encouragement and listen when she needs to cry. I can remember to check in again.

As a photographer, I spend a lot of time thinking about what it means to see someone. There is always more to a person than what is visible in a photograph. A diagnosis is one part of a life that also holds relationships, dreams, humor, work, and a thousand ordinary details.

I want us to keep seeing the whole woman.

And I want our care to last beyond the moment when her struggle first gets our attention.

Sunday Reflection

Think of someone in your life who is facing illness or recovering from something difficult.

What is one specific thing you could offer this week that might ease her day? Before deciding what she needs, give her room to tell you what would actually help.

And if you are the woman receiving care, you are allowed to have preferences, ask for help, and say when you need rest. You don’t owe anyone a cheerful update.

Until Next Sunday

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More Than A Pink Ribbon

Sunday Reflection

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