One sentence. That’s all it took.

“My name is Olivia… and I have stage 4 liver cancer.”

In a single breath, my world split into before and after. Just yesterday, I was making plans, answering emails, thinking about ordinary things. Today, I’m learning words like prognosis and treatment options. Today, I’m staring at a fight I never signed up for.

Cancer doesn’t knock politely. It crashes in. It steals the air from your lungs and replaces it with fear. The questions are endless. The nights are longer. And the future suddenly feels unfamiliar.

But here’s what it didn’t take: my faith.

I may not understand this road, but I refuse to walk it without hope. So today, I’m asking for something simple and powerful — prayer. Not just for me, but for every person hearing the same devastating words. For the mothers, fathers, sons, daughters fighting quietly. For families trying to be strong when their hearts are exhausted.

Faith never promised this would be easy.
It promised I wouldn’t be alone.

If you believe in prayer, pause for a moment. Say my name — Olivia. Lift it up to God. Speak life where fear tries to grow.

Because prayer still moves mountains.
Hope still shines in the darkest nights.
And even here, especially here, God is close to the brokenhearted.