There are some clubs in life that we choose to join, and then there are the ones that choose us.

I never thought I would be a part of this club.

When I think about “Love in This Club,” this was not what I had in mind. I never imagined that one day I would hear the words, “You have breast cancer.” I never imagined that I would be navigating appointments, biopsies, treatment plans, and all the emotions that come with a diagnosis.

At first, I felt bad. I was wondering what I had done wrong to make this happen.

It felt unfair. It felt scary. It felt like I had suddenly entered a world I never wanted to know.

The emotions came fast and often without warning.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Sadness.

Disbelief.

Despair.

Some days I felt strong, and other days I felt completely overwhelmed. I questioned why this was happening and wondered what the future would hold.

Then something beautiful happened.

I found a community of people who were already members of this club.

Women who had walked this road before me.

Women who understood the fear behind the smiles and the uncertainty behind the brave faces.

As I listened to their stories, I stopped seeing cancer and started seeing courage.

I saw fierce women.

I saw powerful women.

I saw women who had cried, prayed, fought, and survived.

I saw warriors.

These women carried scars, but they also carried hope. They reminded me that a diagnosis is not a death sentence and that strength often shows up when we think we have none left.

Watching them changed something inside of me.

Instead of hanging my head, I lifted it.

Instead of feeling ashamed, I felt empowered.

Instead of focusing on what cancer had taken from them, I saw what it could not take; their faith, their resilience, their purpose, and their joy.

And I thought to myself, If they can get through this, so can I.

Cancer is a nasty disease. No one wants it. No one asks for it. But even in the middle of this journey, I have found something unexpected.

I have found love in this club.

Not the kind of love that celebrates cancer, but the kind that shows up in hospital waiting rooms, support groups, text messages, prayers, hugs, and encouraging words from people who truly understand.

The kind of love that reminds you that you are not fighting alone.

The kind of love that helps you keep going when you feel like giving up.

Today, I am hopeful.

I am hopeful that I will survive this journey.

I am hopeful that God is using even this chapter for a greater purpose.

And I am hopeful that one day my story will encourage someone else who has just become a member of this club.

Someone who is scared.

Someone who is crying.

Someone who feels like their world has been turned upside down.

I want them to know what others showed me:

You are stronger than you think.

You are not alone.

And there is still hope.

One scripture that continues to carry me through this season is Isaiah 61:3:

“And provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.” (NIV)

Cancer may be part of my story, but it is not the end of my story.

I serve a God who specializes in beauty from ashes, joy from mourning, and hope in the middle of despair.

So today, I choose faith over fear.

I choose hope over despair.

And I choose to believe that this club is filled not only with survivors and warriors; but with women whose stories will continue to inspire others for years to come.