Christ in the storm, Christ in the scan results, Christ in the waiting room with you.
Fresh today · Monday, 6 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.
May your fear shrink faster than the tumor and your faith outlast the diagnosis.
Praying for marrow that remembers it was made for life, not for cancer.
He counts every hair lost and stores every tear in His bottle — none of this is wasted.
Standing on the promise that nothing — not even malignant cells — separates you from His love.
May angels keep watch over the port, the pump, and the patient inside the gown.
↑ 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
The Shepherd walks the valley with you; you are not being led, you are being accompanied.
Asking the One who calmed the sea to calm your bloodwork too.
Healing belongs to the Lord — recovery is just the part we get to witness.
Praying your remission story becomes someone else's reason to believe.
Grace for today, mercy for tomorrow, manna for the rest of the road.
May the peace that passes understanding settle into the chair beside your bed.
He's already gone ahead into next Tuesday's appointment — you're not walking in alone.
Cancer is loud, but the still small voice is louder. Listen for it tonight.
May your body cooperate with heaven's intentions and your spirit refuse to surrender.
Praying the same Word that spoke galaxies into place speaks order into your cells.
The Lord is your refuge, your fortress, and apparently your full-time oncology chaplain.
Be still and know — even on infusion days — that He is God and He is good.
May Christ's resurrection power surge through every treatment cycle.
Held in everlasting arms that don't tire of holding sick people up.
Praying boldly: complete healing, full restoration, testimony loud enough to silence doubt.
The valley is real, but so is the table He's preparing on the other side of it.
Amen to your healing — already, partially, and yet to come, in Jesus' name.
Your card arrived the same afternoon the nausea did — perfect timing, thank you.
Reading your message was easier than swallowing the pills, and twice as effective.