From Maggie: This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to write. For 24 years, I was the heart of a family — a loving mother, a devoted wife, a caretaker who gave everything she had. I raised three children into adulthood with my own hands and my whole heart. I poured myself out for the people I loved, and I never imagined I’d face the biggest battle of my life without them near.
Now my children are grown and scattered across the country. The house is quiet. The bills are loud. And I’m facing breast cancer alone. I will be out of work for months after surgery. I don’t qualify for FMLA, and because I work across state lines, I may not qualify for disability either. My divorce will leave me without health insurance, and the cost of private coverage — the premiums, the deductibles, the copays — is more than I can carry.
I’ve never been good at asking for help. I’ve always been the one giving it. Asking feels like taking off armor I’ve worn my whole life. It feels like exposing the softest parts of me. But I’ve learned something I can’t ignore: if I don’t tell people I need help, they won’t know to help. And this battle is too big to fight in silence.
I am scared — deeply, honestly scared — but I am not giving up. I am hurting — but I am still standing. I am alone in this house — but I refuse to be alone in this fight. Jehovah has carried me through storms before, and I believe He will carry me through this one. But even warriors need a circle around them. Even strong women need hands to lift them when the weight becomes too much.
If you’re able to support me — or even share this — you are helping me breathe, helping me heal, helping me keep fighting. Your support is not just money. It is compassion. It is time. It is survival. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for holding space for me. Thank you for helping me rise.
Funds raised will help cover medical bills, living expenses, and insurance costs while I recover from surgery and treatment. Every donation, no matter the size, brings hope and relief during this difficult time. Thank you for being part of my circle.
Now my children are grown and scattered across the country. The house is quiet. The bills are loud. And I’m facing breast cancer alone. I will be out of work for months after surgery. I don’t qualify for FMLA, and because I work across state lines, I may not qualify for disability either. My divorce will leave me without health insurance, and the cost of private coverage — the premiums, the deductibles, the copays — is more than I can carry.
I’ve never been good at asking for help. I’ve always been the one giving it. Asking feels like taking off armor I’ve worn my whole life. It feels like exposing the softest parts of me. But I’ve learned something I can’t ignore: if I don’t tell people I need help, they won’t know to help. And this battle is too big to fight in silence.
I am scared — deeply, honestly scared — but I am not giving up. I am hurting — but I am still standing. I am alone in this house — but I refuse to be alone in this fight. Jehovah has carried me through storms before, and I believe He will carry me through this one. But even warriors need a circle around them. Even strong women need hands to lift them when the weight becomes too much.
If you’re able to support me — or even share this — you are helping me breathe, helping me heal, helping me keep fighting. Your support is not just money. It is compassion. It is time. It is survival. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for holding space for me. Thank you for helping me rise.
Funds raised will help cover medical bills, living expenses, and insurance costs while I recover from surgery and treatment. Every donation, no matter the size, brings hope and relief during this difficult time. Thank you for being part of my circle.