May the next chapter open with the words 'no evidence of disease' and stay open for decades.
Fresh today · Thursday, 9 July
New Wishes
A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up — copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.
Wishing you energy when you need it, sleep when you can find it, and grace through both.
Cancer is what you're moving through — not where you're going to end up.
Praying for protocols that work, trials that open, and breakthroughs that arrive in time.
May the hardest day be one you've already survived, and the best day be still ahead.
Sending wishes that don't expire, prayers that don't sleep, and love that doesn't tire.
↑ pick one up
Browse by occasion
What are we writing today?
Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.
- Anniversary
- Baby
- Belated
- Best
- Birthday
- Boy
- Boyfriend
- Christian
- Christmas
- Congratulation
- Diwali
- Easter
- Eid Mubarak
- Engagement
- Farewell
- Fathers Day
- Friendship
- Funny
- Get Well
- Girl
- Girlfriend
- Good Morning
- Good Night
- Graduation
- Hanukkah
- Heart Touching
- Holiday
- Invitation
- Job
- Love
- Miss You
- Mothers Day
- New Year
- Recovery
- Retirement
- Romantic
- Thank You
- Thanksgiving
- Wedding
- Well
- Women's Day
- Sympathy
- Valentine's Day
- Halloween
- Veterans Day
More from today
Wishing for boring follow-ups — the kind where the doctor smiles and says 'see you in a year.'
May your story turn out to be the long one, the survivor one, the one we'll tell for years.
Cancer get-well wishes feel small against something so big — but they're all sincere, and they're all yours.
Thank you for praying when I couldn't form the words — your faith carried mine through the worst of it.
The prayers reached me. I felt them. Recovery felt less heavy because of every one.
I'm thanking you from the other side of the scariest stretch I've ever walked through.
Your prayers and wishes did what medicine alone couldn't. Thank you for the part you can't see.
Healing has many ingredients. Your faith was one of mine. Thank you, truly.
Thank you for lifting me up by name — turns out it makes a difference, even when you can't explain how.
I felt held by something bigger than the diagnosis, and a lot of that was you.
Your prayers were a quiet kind of medicine. Thank you for never stopping the prescription.
Thank you for the get-well wishes and the standing requests at every prayer meeting.
I'm grateful in a way the old me wouldn't have understood. Thank you for praying me into this version.
Every prayer mattered. Every wish mattered. I'm proof of what they can quietly accumulate into.
Thank you for showing up in the only way that worked when I couldn't have visitors.
Your prayers reached rooms I never invited you into. Thank you for going anyway.
I'm well enough now to say thank you — and humble enough to know I needed every prayer.
Thank you for praying when the news was bad and praying harder when it got worse.
The collective prayers of people I love — and strangers I don't know — pulled me through.