07/11/2026
I wonder if we’ll see a rainbow today. 🌈
Every year on July 11, I find myself looking up at the sky, wondering if today will be the day God paints another rainbow across it.
Some people may wonder why.
Five years ago today, after Memphis took his last breath and the funeral home had taken him from our house, the silence was unbearable.
I walked outside and sat alone on the front steps.
For the first time in my life, I truly understood what it felt like to have a broken heart.
I looked up at Heaven and whispered, “God… please give me a sign. Please show me that my baby is okay. Please show me that he’s with You. Please show me that somehow… everything is going to be okay.”
Just moments before, the sun had been shining.
Then, out of nowhere, the skies opened and it poured for 15 minutes.
The rain stopped.
And there it was.
The biggest, brightest double rainbow I had ever seen stretching across the sky over Malvern.
It didn’t take my pain away.
It didn’t answer every question.
But in that moment, I knew.
My baby was home.
I smiled and said "Thank You, God!"
Five years ago today, my world changed forever.
As a mother, your purpose from the moment your child is conceived is to protect them.
You kiss every boo-boo.
You chase away bad dreams.
You hold them close when they’re scared.
You spend every day believing that if anything ever tried to hurt them, you’d stand in front of it.
But how do you protect your child from cancer?
How do you comfort your baby when there’s nothing you can do except trust and pray?
On August 9, 2020, we walked into Arkansas Children’s Hospital thinking we were going to get answers.
Instead, we were told our 11-month-old baby had a brain tumor the size of an orange.
In an instant, our lives changed forever.
Two days later, we sat outside the operating room waiting while our baby underwent his first brain resection.
The surgery was successful, and we truly believed the nightmare was ending.
But it wasn’t.
Memphis would go on to endure not one, but two brain resections, along with chemotherapy, countless scans, procedures, medications, hospital stays, and more pain than any child should ever have to know.
We had no idea that what we thought was the end was only the beginning of the hardest journey of our lives.
Eleven months.
Eleven months of scans.
Needle sticks.
Brain surgeries.
A port.
An NG tube.
Chemotherapy.
Medications.
Hospital rooms that became our home.
Sleepless nights.
Answered prayers.
Unanswered prayers.
Hope.
Fear.
And loving a little boy who smiled through more pain than most adults will ever know.
If you knew Memphis, you loved him.
He was the happiest little boy.
His laugh filled every room.
His smile made strangers smile back.
He had a way of making people feel joy without ever saying a word.
In just 22 months, he touched more lives than many people do in a lifetime.
People prayed who had never met him.
Churches prayed.
Strangers cried for him.
Families gathered around us.
His story brought people together, reminded them to cherish their children, strengthened faith, and showed the world what courage looked like through the eyes of a little boy.
Then, on July 11, 2021…
Cancer won the battle here.
But it did not win Memphis.
Jesus did.
As much as I wanted my son here with me, all I had prayed for was for him to be free from pain.
God answered that prayer.
Not the way I begged Him to.
But He answered it.
Today, Memphis has no scars.
No port.
No NG tube.
No chemotherapy.
No fear.
No cancer.
No scars.
He’s running.
He’s laughing.
He’s whole.
He’s healed.
He’s in the arms of Jesus.
Meanwhile, we’re the ones learning how to live with the empty space he left behind.
People often tell me, “I don’t know how you do it.”
The truth is…
Neither do I.
You don’t choose the hardest day of your life.
You don’t choose the story you’re given.
You simply wake up every morning and ask God to help you make it through another day.
Some days that looks like strength.
Some days it looks like surviving.
Both are enough.
Five years later, I still wonder who Memphis would be.
He would be getting ready to start first grade.
Would he still have that mischievous grin?
Would he still run into my arms?
Those questions never leave.
Neither does the love.
If you’ve ever prayed for Memphis…
If you’ve ever spoken his name…
If you’ve ever cried for our family…
Thank you.
You helped carry us when we couldn’t carry ourselves.
And if you happen to look up today and see a rainbow…
I hope you’ll think of a little boy with the biggest smile.
I hope you’ll remember that love doesn’t end when life does.
I hope you’ll remember that even after the darkest storms, God still keeps His promises.
Memphis,
Mama misses you with every beat of her heart.
I’ll keep telling your story.
I’ll keep saying your name.
I’ll keep looking for rainbows.
Until the day I don’t have to wonder anymore… because I’ll finally see you again.
I love you, forever.
I miss you.
💙🌈
