A Night We Didn’t Expect

There are some nights you plan.

There are others that seem to get handed to you.

September 13, 2025 was one of those.

We got a call from Megan’s sister, Brittney. She said she had a surprise for Kinley if she was up for it.

She asked if we were planning to go to the Lauren Daigle concert at the Youngsville Amphitheater.

We said probably not.

We would have loved to go, but by that point, we had learned to measure everything against Kinley’s energy.

How far would she have to walk?

How long would we be there?

How close were the bathrooms?

Could she sit comfortably?

How quickly would she fade?

Would something that was supposed to be fun end up becoming miserable?

Cancer has a way of turning normal plans into calculations.

So we figured we would sit this one out.

Then Brittney said:

“Well, what if you got to go backstage?”

That changed the conversation.

The Gift Behind the Gift

Brittney is an artist, and she had been asked to create a special custom piece as a gift for Lauren Daigle.

When they asked what she wanted in return, Brittney told them she did not want payment.

Instead, she asked for something else.

She asked if her niece, who was fighting cancer, could meet Lauren.

That still gets me.

She had been offered something for herself and used it to create something for Kinley instead.

Our mayor, Ken Ritter, and his assistant, Haley, helped make it happen.

Just like that, something that had seemed completely unrealistic became possible.

We showed up as close to the arranged time as we could because we definitely did not want to wear Kinley out before the night even started.

By the time we arrived, all the handicap parking spaces were already taken.

So we huffed it in.

Nothing says “VIP experience” quite like starting it winded.

Backstage

Once we got inside, we made our way toward the stage.

Officer Reggie met us and escorted Megan and Kinley backstage.

Cohen and I went over to the merchandise stand to grab a few things so Kinley could get some autographs.

When we came back, Reggie told us it was pretty crowded backstage and they could not let us back there.

No problem.

He said he would bring the stuff to Kinley for us.

Another small kindness.

A little while later, Megan and Kinley came back out.

Megan was blown away.

This had not been a quick picture and move along.

They talked.

They spent time together.

Lauren and the people with her prayed for our family and prayed over Kinley.

That was the part that meant the most.

The picture was cool.

The autograph was cool.

Meeting someone whose music we knew was cool.

But someone taking time to stop and pray over our daughter?

That was different.

The Best Seats in the House

Then came another surprise.

We were given seats right next to the stage for the entire concert.

Comfortable chairs.

Near the bathrooms.

Listen, after months of cancer treatment, proximity to a bathroom becomes a legitimate luxury amenity.

Later, we found out Mayor Ken Ritter had given up his own seats so our family could sit there.

Man, I love our city.

It was one of the best concerts we had ever been to.

Not simply because of where we were sitting.

There was something about the entire night.

The praise.

The worship.

The way Lauren interacted with the crowd.

She asked questions.

She talked with people.

She seemed genuinely happy to be there.

There was a warmth to it.

Then we realized her parents were sitting directly behind us.

We got to visit with them too.

And once again, they poured love and prayer over Kinley.

By that point, the whole night felt like kindness stacked on top of kindness.

When People Become the Answer

There is a verse in James that says:

“Every good and perfect gift is from above.”

I think sometimes we imagine those gifts arriving directly from heaven in some dramatic way.

But most of the time, I think God puts them into somebody else’s hands first.

A sister who gives up payment.

A mayor who gives up his seat.

A police officer who makes sure a kid gets her autographs.

An artist who stops before a concert to pray over a little girl.

Parents sitting behind you who take the time to encourage your family.

None of those people cured Kinley.

None of them changed the diagnosis.

None of them could.

But for one night, they helped carry it.

Jesus talked constantly about loving people through action.

Feed people.

Visit people.

Care for people.

Give.

Serve.

Notice the person in front of you.

Sometimes I think we look for God to do something enormous while missing the fact that He is already moving through ordinary people doing generous things.

That night felt like that.

A Little Taste of Normal

One of the hardest parts of cancer is how much it steals before it ever takes anything medical.

It steals spontaneity.

It steals plans.

It steals normal teenage experiences.

It turns something as simple as going to a concert into a discussion about stamina, bathrooms, walking distance, medication, and whether the fun will be worth the physical cost.

But that night, for a little while, cancer had to sit in the background.

Kinley got to meet someone she admired.

She got prayed over.

She got to sit beside the stage.

She got to enjoy music with her family.

She got to just be a kid at a concert.

And we got to watch her enjoy it.

That was a gift to us too.

Kindness on Top of Kindness

Looking back, I do not think the night was special because we got backstage.

It was special because of everything that had to happen for us to get there.

Brittney had to give something up.

Ken had to give something up.

People had to make room.

People had to care enough to notice.

People had to say yes.

And every yes seemed to lead to another.

By the end of the night, I was thinking about how often God had cared for our family that way.

Through people.

Doctors.

Nurses.

Friends.

Family.

Pastors.

Neighbors.

Strangers.

Security guards.

People who could not fix the problem but refused to let us walk through it alone.

Maybe that is one of the ways Jesus makes Himself visible.

Through people who decide somebody else matters more than their convenience.

That night, we felt it.

A sister gave up payment.

A mayor gave up his seats.

A singer gave us her time.

People prayed.

People served.

People made room.

And in a season where cancer had taken so much from us, God gave us something back.

A night of music.

A night of worship.

A night of laughter.

A night where Kinley got to feel special for a reason that had nothing to do with being sick.

A night we did not expect.

And a night I do not think any of us will ever forget.