When Love Pours Back

It’s probably safe to say that the word any patient fears hearing the most is cancer. It’s wild that one little word can instantly change your whole world, isn’t it? And when you get a call from someone you love, and they say, “I have cancer,” it’s a gut punch unlike any other.

That’s what I felt last Wednesday when my sister called me on her way home from the ER. “What?” was the only thing I could say. I sat there for a moment in stunned silence.

She went on to explain that the ER doctor had just informed her that what she thought was a bladder infection—or maybe kidney stones—was cancer. Peritoneal cancer, to be exact.

But this isn’t about cancer. Or treatment.

This is about her. It’s about life. And about how the way we live our lives eventually circles back to us.

If you don’t know my sister personally, I can tell you this: her life has always been about other people. I’ve often fussed at her because she takes on other people’s problems like they’re her own. In doing so, she tends to spread herself too thin. She’s constantly pouring into everyone else’s cup, leaving her own nearly empty.

If you know her, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I’ve always scratched my head over how she finds time to do so much for others, given that there are only twenty-four hours in a day. But somehow, she manages, even when it leaves no time for herself.

And when you see someone you love doing so much for everyone else, you can’t help but wonder: Would they be there for her the way she is always there for them?

In a matter of days, that question, which had always lingered in my mind, got its answer—loud and clear.

Spoiler alert: the answer is yes.

The same night she called me after leaving the ER, I started getting text messages from people asking what they could do to help. I’m still getting daily texts and phone calls.

Keep in mind—these are just the calls and texts I’ve received. She, her daughter, and her husband have been getting them too. Together, I’d estimate we’ve heard from close to a hundred people—each one someone whose life has been touched and made better by my sister.

Let that sink in.

Think about what that says about the kind of life she’s lived.

What stands out the most among this whirlwind of support is the phone call I got from her on Sunday night. She said some of her coworkers came to the house, arms full of baskets and bags filled with anything they thought she might need or anything that might make the road ahead less rocky. They even started a group text to stay connected and support her.

Then, she told me about how the preacher (who also happens to be my brother and one of her best childhood friends) also came that day to visit and pray with her.

Talking to her that night, it felt like I was on the phone with someone who’d just won the lottery—not someone who had just been diagnosed with cancer.

After telling me everything that happened that day, she said something I’ll never forget. Not because of the words, but because of the way she said them—with a quiet almost undeserving disbelief, she said, “That was so nice of everyone.”

At that moment, I understood why she sounded like she’d hit the jackpot.

It wasn’t about the gifts or the texts.

It wasn’t about visits or calls.

It was that—for maybe the first time—she truly felt how much she means to people.

All those years of pouring into others, leaving barely a drop for herself, came back to her tenfold. When they saw her cup was empty and she was thirsty, they didn’t just pour into it. They showed up with full cups—and poured them all into a pitcher for her.

And they didn’t do it out of obligation. Or to repay a debt.

They did it because they love her, because of the way she treats people, and who she is at her core.

Like I said before, this isn’t about cancer or treatment. This is about how one woman’s life of compassion filled the hearts of so many they’ve become an army—not with weapons, but with full cups.

Cups of comfort.

Cups of courage.

Cups of love.

Cups of prayers.

Together, we’ll keep pouring until she’s overflowing.

With strength. With hope. With faith. With prayers. With everything she needs to beat this…

And here’s another spoiler alert:

With her army of loved ones beside her, and a little help from the Big Man upstairs, she will.