Ringing the chimes...

Let me show you a true celebration of a Last.

I’ve found myself at Cincinnati Children’s Liberty Campus—camera in hand—not once, not twice, but three times, capturing an event I knew nothing about the first time: the ringing of the chimes.

I know many people living with cancer right now. Some are open about their journey. Some aren’t ready to share. Both are okay. I’ve had basal cell carcinoma removed once and am currently awaiting results from a biopsy I had just last week. Cancer touches all of us. But when it touches our children—it becomes something entirely different.

These kids are so little. So vulnerable. And yet, they hold a strength and resilience we didn’t know was possible. We sit and watch as they receive IVs, ports, central lines. We wish we could do it for them. We wish we could take the pain away. When they cry, our insides scream, burn, and weep.

And then—they sip their Starbucks. They grab their coloring books, their crayons, their video games... and they smile.

So we smile.

We pray. “Thank you, God, for letting it pass again, and again, and again.”
We wait for the chemo to finish. For the radiation to end. And then—we celebrate the Last.

The doctors and nurses who’ve been there since the beginning—who feel more like family now—celebrate too. They’re glad they won’t be seeing this child next week. It’ll be another family... but not yours. Not for a while, anyway.

Siblings are pulled from school. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, close friends all show up. Because this celebration is huge. There are silly hats, kazoos, balloons, and gifts—not just any gifts. These are personal. Handpicked. Given by people who now know these kids almost as well as their parents do. These nurses and doctors have seen them at their worst. They know what makes them light up again.

There’s no makeup. No fancy dresses. This isn’t staged. It’s real people living real life—in one of its rawest, most beautiful forms.

This is God. This is God being good all the time. This is Him carrying us through the worst, and revealing Himself in our best.

This is a celebration of the very best kind.

First up: #vivbugbrave.
Miss Vivian and I met when she was 3, almost 4, during a family session her Aunt Sara booked with me. I’ve been photographing her family ever since. She’s now 6. She loves reading princess books, playing with her best friend Benny (her little brother), and Hopie (her little sister). Vivi’s last Proton treatment—and her celebration—was Monday, October 1st, 2018.

Let me know if you’d like this split into sections for a blog or social post, or if you want help crafting a follow-up post about another child’s celebration.

Next up is Mason.

Mason’s little sister plays soccer with my Callie Jo, which is how I first got connected to his story. Mason was a 10th grader at Fairfield High School. He loved video games, watching show choir, and cheering on the Fairfield Indians football team.

He was one of the sweetest, most polite young men I’ve ever met.

Mason’s last radiation treatment—and his celebration—was Monday, November 12th, 2018.
On Thursday, May 23rd, 2024, Mason’s year-long battle with cancer came to an end.

Those who knew Mason were forever changed by his smile, his presence, and the quiet strength he carried through it all. He will be deeply missed—and always remembered.

Last, we have #BraveBlake.

We’ve attended church with the Glover family since the spring of 2012. Her dad and I even went on a mission trip together to Peru last January—an experience I’ll never forget.

Blake is a freshman at Mason High School. She’s a volleyball player, a lover of spicy food, and still on the hunt for her favorite Starbucks drink. More than anything, she loves being surrounded by her church family.

Blake’s last chemo treatment—and her celebration—was Thursday, May 16th, 2019.

#BraveBlake is exactly that: brave, joyful, and deeply rooted in faith and community.