Sarah was one of the first moms I met after we moved into the housing facility on the St. Jude Campus. Our families, among others, settled into a rhythm of appointments in the day and dinner outside on the patio as all our kids played on the playground of Domino’s Village. As the sun set behind the Bass Pro Pyramid and the outdoor string-lights flickered on, we would all part ways to start bedtime, knowing the next day we would commune again.

There was a sweetness here in a time of overwhelm and worry as parents shared stories with one another, while our kids learned each other’s names and created their own games every night. After talking with Sarah and meeting her family, I felt encouraged in my decision to homeschool and further compelled to reach out my hand to others, so that we may all be blessings to one another. Not only that, she was the first person to tell me about the St. Jude Marathon Weekend that sparked this entire journey of running and writing this series for me.

I am incredibly honored to share the hopeful pieces of their story, and as you read their answers, may they inspire you to look for all the butterflies.

The Ricketts family is from Silver Lake, Oregon, and includes Nick, Sarah, Kinley, Gemma, Landon, and Mariah Ricketts. Together, they own a small hay farm in rural Oregon and homeschool their four children, ages 12, 10, 8, and 5. They built their family’s foundation upon hope and faith in Jesus Christ!

Sarah is the captain of Team Mariah and is participating in the 2025 St. Jude Memphis Marathon Weekend. You can visit their team page here.

Name: Mariah, age 5 years old

Diagnosis: Mariah was diagnosed with anaplastic ependymoma (brain tumor) at 8 months old, in December 2020.

Time at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital: We first came to St. Jude in April of 2021 for 9 months of treatment. Mariah relapsed in July of 2023, and we came back to St. Jude for a year of treatments.

Favorite Hobby or Activity: Mariah loves going to the pool, going outside, and doing taekwondo.

Favorite Song to Blast on the Speakers To Get Your Spirits Up, Run, or Dance To: “Way Maker” by Leeland.

Can you think back before the diagnosis, was it ever hard to ask and receive help?: Yes, asking for help was hard before the diagnosis. Asking for help was hard after the diagnosis too, but you learn your limits when you are facing childhood cancer. You learn you must lean on others in ways you never thought you would need to.

Now, after the diagnosis, what does asking and receiving help from family, friends, or your community look like? Has it changed?: I’ve learned that it blesses others when you allow them to help. People want to surround you with support and strength. They want to help. And so, even though it may feel hard and vulnerable, the blessings are doubled when you take help from others.

How does your family feel most supported and encouraged?: Through prayers and words of encouragement. Connection with our church family has been absolutely vital on this journey. Their support has been the strength that has carried us this far.

Have you ever received unsolicited advice? If so, how did you handle it?: Yes. Many times. Sometimes it’s unnecessary and not helpful, and sometimes it’s exactly what your heart needed that day. Either way, I’ve learned to say thank you to everyone who cares enough to take the time and invest in our journey.

Can you provide examples of how you have cared for yourselves (as a caregiver) or each other (as a family)? We’ve always stayed together. Except for the initial diagnoses, where we had no choice, we’ve made the decision not to separate our family. Being together and doing our best to provide stability for our children, no matter what, has always been our priority. I know this is not possible for all families, and my heart hurts for those who’ve had to separate. We’ve done everything we can to avoid that, and God has blessed us with providing ways for us to always stay together as a family unit.

Did your family receive a meal train? Yes

Was there a favorite meal you received and recommend for anyone looking to drop off food to a friend or loved one?: It was always a treat to get something besides a casserole! Not that we weren’t grateful for all the food we were blessed with, but we received a lot of casseroles!

What’s Your Favorite Comfort Food?: We love pizza! That’s our comfort food! We also love Olive Garden for a special treat!

What are some ways you and your family are prioritizing hope? What does hope look like for you all as you come together? We have adopted the butterfly as our symbol of hope. There is a story there, but our hope is rooted in the foundation of our faith in a God who is good and keeps His promises no matter what. On the hard days, it’s a reminder that we will get through this and we are loved, even when it hurts. On the good days, we can look back and see all the butterflies along the way, the times when God was right beside, gently guiding us.

If you can give any last takeaways or guidance on how to genuinely show up for a family walking this path, what would it be?: My most heartfelt and genuine advice for any family facing the unimaginable heartbreak of a childhood cancer diagnosis is to look for ways to help others along the way. As you are being helped by others, reach out a hand to those on the same journey, and you will find strength you didn’t know you had. Even if it’s just a smile or a small act of kindness, it reminds you that you are not helpless, even though you feel helpless. We are all desperate for hope, and sometimes that hope comes in the most unexpected ways.

A heartfelt thank you to Sarah and the Ricketts family. I love how much the butterfly symbolizes hope and God’s faithfulness to be there through all the good times and the hard ones. I also feel conviction in the details she shared about how, even when we are most vulnerable, accepting help from others doubles the blessings we receive and give.

I know her story will bless and inspire many people.

And I am currently counting down the days until I can see her in person at the finish line during the St. Jude Marathon Weekend as we honor our kids and fellow families of St. Jude.

READING

Maybe it’s the time of year for thanksgiving, maybe it’s my ache for Advent, or perhaps it’s that when we gather and welcome our people in, we become strengthened. Or it’s all the above. This past month, I have cracked back open the spines of Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table (with recipes) by Shauna Niequist and A Book of Uncommon Prayer: 100 Celebrations of the Miracle & Muddle of the Ordinary by the late Brian Doyle. Both books inspired me to seek awe and wonder in the little details of our day while also forming deep connections around the table. What makes these books special and perfect for the holidays is that you can flip through them, reading one excerpt at a time. Fill your literary cup with what you need and come back to the words time and time again.

EATING

Did someone say pizza? I love how pizza is a comfort food for the Ricketts family, and my family entirely agrees—pizza with custom toppings makes those family movie nights extra special. For the past year, I’ve been dabbling with sourdough. While I’m still trying to make the perfect loaf, I’ve really enjoyed baking with the discard. And this pizza crust recipe is a weekly go-to. Jacob’s monster pizza recipe includes sausage, pepperoni, black olives, bell peppers, and a whole lot of cheese.

SINGING

Officially added “Way Maker” for Mariah and her family to the “Hope in Motion” playlist. St. Jude families and generous donors added every song that I will sync up to my headphones on race day, December 6th.

One small yet mighty way to contribute generously to the life-saving mission of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital is to sponsor a song.

1. Simply click the link below and donate $5 for each song you want added.

2. Then, in the donor message, add the title and artist of your favorite song to dance to, jam out to, or blast on the speakers.

3. You can then stream the playlist here (or click on the image below).

DONATE TO TEAM JACOB THE LIONHEARTED

RUNNING // T-11 Days Till St. Jude Half Marathon

We are officially in the final weeks leading up to the St. Jude Half Marathon.

When I started training for the race, I was looking for a way to move out of the anxiety I felt trapped in. I was running away from the despair, anger, and hurt of our suffering. But more importantly, mile by mile, it turns out I was running towards something greater than my fear. I was running towards a Living Hope.

So as I lace up my shoes, sync my Garmin watch, and cross the starting line, I will carry this hope and purpose forward.

And I *hope* this series and the stories shared with us will continue to be an immense blessing, sparking ideas to put hope into motion.

With a heart filled with gratitude,

Jessica

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Meals left on doorsteps.

Hands clasped together in presence, in support.

A cleaning service paid for by friends nationwide so you can come home to wiped-down counters and sanitized bathrooms.

Prayers spoken by women when my own words could not form.

Acts of kindness when we feel like the world is falling apart.

We all face hard seasons of loss and grief. It’s not a question of if but when. I don’t think we can escape it or press fast-forward, no matter how much we may want to. The more I sit and listen to the sacred stories of others putting words to their terrible grief, the more I know pain is part of being human and experienced in a multitude of shapes and depths.

So what happens when we find ourselves in the desert of life1?

What happens when we’re plunged into deep waters, trying to buoy ourselves in shifting currents?

What happens when suffering drifts in like a thick fog and hope feels too far away?

This year, I found myself paralyzed by the unknown in the aftermath of my son’s diagnosis. Not knowing how to walk the path we were thrust upon, I decided to fling my body and feet into motion. I signed up to be a St. Jude Hero, committed to running the half-marathon in Memphis while raising awareness and funds for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

Slowly, throughout my training, step-by-step, mile-by-mile, I felt glimpses of the Spirit walking and running alongside me—moving in my prayers and in the presence of others bringing help, relief, encouragement, and support.

And in the exertion to press onward, I’ve found hope to be a stubborn, gritty, and defiant refusal to give in to despair. I’ve found hope to be carried and held by our community in their prayers and tangible actions.

There have been glimmers of light from hand-drawn cards sent to my son from fellow first graders in my sister’s classroom, DoorDash gift cards, a scholastic book fair turned superhero night in Jacob’s name, family members and friends pet sitting for us during treatment, last‌-minute FaceTimes, and prayers spoken over us from across the nation.

Looking back, I see that these shimmers and actions (small to big) sparked this new series, Hope In Motion. My desire is for this series to become a gentle guide or source of inspiration for showing up for others when the world falls apart. I’ll share how my family and fellow St. Jude families experienced kindness and support in times of hardship.

Each story will correlate with my training plan as I prepare to cross the finish line at the St. Jude Half Marathon on December 6th. You can read more about my fundraising efforts or generously donate to our team here.

Now, let’s put hope into motion.

The Fountain family lives in Alabama but travels around the country, setting up home wherever the Air Force sends them. They are road trip warriors, bucket list makers, and national park adventure seekers—there isn’t a park on their list that they haven’t wanted to venture to and collect a sticker from. When they are not exploring their new communities, they are home, wagering family-friendly bets on whose turn it is to do the dishes over a game of Monopoly, raising chickens, or whipping up a new dish in the kitchen.

Name: Jacob, age 9 years old

Diagnosis: Brain Tumor

Time at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital: We arrived in April 2024 for 6 weeks of proton radiation and again in August for 8 weeks of hyperbaric oxygen chamber treatment. We travel to Memphis every 6 months for scans and follow-up appointments.

Favorite Hobby or Activity: Jacob loves to play board games–our favorites include Monopoly, Ticket to Ride, Uno, and Taco vs. Burrito. He’s also very passionate about cooking, which we don’t mind because that means less time for Mom in the kitchen.

Favorite Song to Blast on the Speakers To Get Your Spirits Up, Run, or Dance To: “What’s Up Danger” from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.

Can you think back before the diagnosis, was it ever hard to ask and receive help?: Yes, and no. We are a military family, so we move around A LOT (thanks, Air Force), and we honestly really prided ourselves on our independence. Moving far away from close family, we’ve valued the space to learn, adapt, and build new routines. If we had to ask for help, it would look like assessing our needs after each relocation and asking others for resources or “the know” of a new area⸺ the best schools to enroll in or neighborhoods to live in, places to eat, any outdoor recreation activities in the area, etc. Sometimes it’s asking for boxes for upcoming moves or an extra set of hands to load a moving van. The help we felt comfortable asking for was low risk; if nothing took place, we would be fine on our own.

Now, after the diagnosis, what does asking and receiving help from family, friends, or your community look like? Has it changed?: Well, as I said above, we really valued our independence. In some ways, we put on a pretense of believing we could not make it as a military family by always needing assistance. We chose self-reliance over being ‌part of a village and created a false armor that quickly crumbled around us. Turns out this was a blessing, turns out the bravest thing you can do is ask for help.

I remember there was a point where we were in the hospital and all I felt was despair, all I could beg of God was please. So I texted my Bible study leader and named what we desperately needed—prayers. And she answered. From that moment forward, asking and receiving help became more about grace. I could admit to others that I didn’t know how to ask or that we were too overwhelmed to think of ways they could help. And people responded with ideas, gift cards, or messages just saying they were thinking of us. There was a grace in knowing that people may flounder and not know what to do; we may flounder and not know what to ask, but just trying and being willing to meet us exactly where we were was a kindness.

How does your family feel most supported and encouraged?: In this season, where his treatment is over, but we’re still traveling back and forth for follow-ups, we feel most supported by others willing to listen to our story and check in with prayers or thoughtful questions. They ask when the subsequent follow-up appointments are and pray for us during periods we are waiting for results.

We recently moved to a new state this summer and haven’t figured out how much to say or share with others. Truthfully, I still feel a bit awkward when bringing up the brain tumor, as I’m still learning to hold both the grief of the past year and the gratitude for our most recent stable scans. So when new friends or neighbors are willing to be present with us and patient with how much we share or don’t share, it’s a gift. While the diagnosis has dramatically changed and altered our entire family, and while we’re still picking up the pieces and learning how to move forward, this will ultimately be Jacob’s testimony, his story to share as he grows older.

Have you ever received unsolicited advice, and if yes, how did you handle it?: Not so much unsolicited advice, but some people asked us very personal questions right in the middle of us having to make urgent decisions. There were a lot of questions we could not answer because we didn’t even know the following steps or the type of tumor he had. We were taking things minute-by-minute.

Looking back, I know people had the best intentions, and they were just naturally curious and looking for details to determine what would best support us. If we were to change anything about that time, it would probably be just letting some of those messages go unread until we had all the information and could set up boundaries on how we (as a family) wanted to respond and what information we were ready to share. And now, when we have those conversations in person, we can hold and extend charitable assumptions—our heart posture remains in the ideal that those coming to us have the best intentions.

Can you provide examples of how you have cared for yourselves (as a caregiver) or each other (as a family)? Mom here, and admittedly, I am not the best at this, but one thing I did was sign up for a creative cohort that ran for 12 weeks, working through the chapters of The Artist’s Way, alongside the tail end of treatment. I leaned heavily on my desire to write and journal through the hard in a defiant act to patch up my hopelessness—‌I was more honest on the page than I was meeting face-to-face. The time spent working on the exercises was a welcome pause and gave me cherished friendships with other creatives.

As a family, we take the best care of each other when making food and sharing a meal around the table sans technology. Life has a way of speeding up. I (Mom) have a way of filling up our calendar because I want to make the most of every new place we move to and give my kids a plethora of experiences and adventures. I’m afraid that if I don’t make the most of everything around us, we’ll run out of time and never get the same opportunity again. But sadly, this has a way of depriving us of what’s really important—quality time together. The diagnosis had us face that reality really fast. So while we still value activities, sports, and travel, we also aim for more dinners together. And we believe life is definitely more enriched around the table.

Since the diagnosis, was there a moment or act of kindness that stands out to your family as meaningful–a small act that left a big mark?: Gosh, so many acts of kindness. We feel truly blessed that so many people near and far have cared for us in many ways. One moment that comes to mind is when we received piles, and I mean, piles of snail mail to our room at St. Jude. Some were from people we had never met, sending stickers, coloring books, and prayers. My sister had her first graders write hand-drawn cards to Jacob, sharing their favorite jokes, asking him what his favorite animal is (a lion), and just sharing bits of their lives with him. It was so lighthearted, and we all laughed opening them—my favorite was a little boy who shared how he had to go to the hospital when he swallowed a penny. He’s okay.

All the cards were like a written chorus coming together from across the nation with support and encouragement. I now have them tucked away in a keepsake box to pull out on a rainy day.

Did your family receive a meal train? No, we lived too far away from our community for meal drop-offs. However, we received many DoorDash and Uber Eats gift cards for hospital stays. And one family friend sent us a package of Omaha Steaks, including chicken, hamburger patties, and steaks. This was an incredible gift because we could grill on the weekends during radiation treatment—it brought back some normality of what we would do at home if we were not at St. Jude for treatments.

What’s Your Favorite Comfort Food: Pineapple Shrimp Tacos and Key Lime Tartlets. Again, Jacob loves to cook, and these two have been some of his favorite recipes to make (especially during the summer). Now, whenever we can bring a dish to a get-together, we opt for the key lime tartlets.

What are some ways you and your family are prioritizing hope? What does hope look like for you all as you come together? Before the diagnosis, the word hope was just a word we would throw out to emphasize well-wishes. “We hope you get better.” “We hope to go home for the holidays.” “We hope you have a good day.” Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with these sentiments at all. They are just as important. I’m only saying that before they felt like an end, like pebbles thrown out, not knowing how or where they would land. But now, the meaning has become grittier and stubborn, weightier, a refusal to let fear have the final say, a gentle surrender to a good God. As a family, we are moving our faith off the back burner of our lives to the center, choosing to lay all our brokenness at the feet of a Living Hope. Rather than an end, we’re putting hope into action — from prayers, meals, cards, and voice memos. We feel called to comfort others weathering out a storm when we remember and have felt sheltered in our own heartaches.

READING

One of the reasons my idea of a hope-filled newsletter even came into existence is because of writers who inspire me with their own creative endeavors. My friend publishes a binge-worthy series titled Trip Talks, all about diving into the stories behind our vacation highlight reel. Laura artistically weaves the logistical questions with more thought-provoking questions we can use in our travels to unearth pieces of ourselves (that may or may not surprise us—like skiing in Colorado or packing up our kids for a cross-country road trip). I always walk away with new places to add to my bucket list and a deeper appreciation for how travel may shape and transform us.

EATING

Fall is here, and we’ve been simmering into soup season. In living out our hope in motion values, we’ve made one pot for us and another to drop off for a friend. And this Italian chicken penicillin soup does not disappoint. It’s been on our weekly menu. Pair it with a block of Parmesan cheese and fresh-baked sourdough bread for a dreary day.

SINGING

We are assembling a playlist for the St. Jude Half Marathon inspired by our fellow St. Jude families and generous donors. You can listen as tracks get added here.

And dear friends, I understand times are increasingly hard right now. Honestly, I waver and wonder if talking about a fundraiser is called for this season when I see and hear the weariness from so many. But I also wholeheartedly believe in St. Jude’s mission. Through the generosity of others, my family was able to focus solely on Jacob’s treatment. So if I can help move their mission forward and provide that relief and research to others, why wouldn’t I?

So if you feel called to contribute to the mission, it’s not too late to make a HUGE IMPACT towards the life-saving mission of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. And please know if you do not, that’s also 1000% okay too, I’m just thankful you are here and reading these words 🤎.

For $5, you can add your favorite song to blast on the stereo—just be sure to write the song request in the donor message.

DONATE TO TEAM JACOB THE LIONHEARTED

RUNNING // T-37 Days Till St. Jude Half Marathon

We are officially 6 weeks away from the St. Jude Half Marathon.

If there’s one thing ringing louder as I write this series and lace up my running shoes, it is that there is no perfect way to navigate the unimaginable. And there’s no right way to show up for the ones we love in a season of hardship and suffering.

There is grace, and there is trying. Don’t be afraid to reach out to a friend or loved one wandering through their own desert. I genuinely believe that I would have let my fear crush me if it weren’t for those who held hope for us and moved when the unknown paralyzed us.

Move in any way you can.

*Hopefully* this has sparked some ideas to carry and put hope into motion.

May our hope roar 🦁.

Jessica

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