A Dark Season
March and April were some of the hardest months of our lives.
After hearing the words, “There is no medical cure for Kinley at this point,” we entered a dark and heavy season. I continued meeting regularly with my pastor, trying to process the grief, fear, anger, panic, and sadness that seemed to come in waves.
For most of the past year, I felt like I was constantly fighting—fighting for answers, fighting for options, fighting for more time.
Eventually, I reached a point where I had a very honest conversation with God and with Megan. I told God:
“I’m exhausted. There is nothing else I can do. I have to completely surrender Kinley and our situation to You.”
I had to go palms up.
But even after saying those words, I started realizing there was still stress and tension living inside me because deep down, I was still acting like I had some control over the outcome.
I was saying “palms up,” but parts of my heart were still clenched tight.
The Bible tells us to submit to God and that He will give us peace that surpasses all understanding. I can’t fully explain it, but after truly surrendering the outcome to Him, it felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders.
For the past year, I had prayed for God to come in and intervene—and in many ways, He has. But this felt different.
This was not just asking God to help.
This was surrendering the outcome to Him.
Starting the Clinical Trial
Around this same time, Kinley started the ONITT clinical trial through St. Jude.
In simple terms, ONITT is a research treatment for children and young people whose cancer has either returned or has not responded the way doctors hoped. The goal is to see if certain medications can slow the cancer down, shrink it, or keep it from growing for as long as possible. One medication attacks the cancer cells directly, while another is designed to make it harder for those cancer cells to repair themselves.
It is not a guaranteed cure. Only 40% of patients see positive results.
But it is another door God has opened for us to walk through while we continue praying, hoping, and fighting for more time with Kinley.
The first couple weeks of treatment were hard. The doctors warned us that days 8 through 12 would likely be rough, and they were right. Around day 9 the side effects really showed up—nausea, stomach issues, fatigue.
But Kinley keeps pushing through it all with unbelievable strength and positivity.
And honestly, in the middle of all of it, I realized something strange was happening in me.
I had peace.
Not fake positivity.
Not denial.
Not numbness.
Peace.
I stopped having panic attacks.
I started sleeping through the night again.
I no longer walked around in a fog all day.
At one point my pastor asked me if maybe I was just becoming numb after receiving bad news on top of bad news for so long.
And honestly, I thought hard about that.
But numbness feels empty.
This peace feels full.
It feels like something outside of myself is holding me together.
And I truly believe that something is God.
A Temporary Reprieve
In the middle of this heavy transition season, we were given an incredible gift.
Make-A-Wish stepped in and granted Kinley’s wish to go to Disney World.
The day after Easter, we flew out on Southwest Airlines. While we were sitting at the gate waiting to board, a voice suddenly came over the loudspeaker:
“Can Kinley Spencer and family please report to the gate?”
Surprised, we walked over. Two Southwest employees greeted us with gifts for Kinley and Cohen, took pictures with us, and escorted us onto the plane before everyone else so we would not have to stand in line.
From the very beginning, the trip felt special.
When we landed in Orlando, a Make-A-Wish representative was waiting with a sign that had Kinley’s name on it. She walked us directly to our rental van and made everything feel effortless.
For a few days, we were not just a family walking through cancer.
We were simply a family going to Disney World together.
Give Kids The World
We stayed at Give Kids The World Village, and honestly, it felt like something out of a movie.
It’s an entire little neighborhood built specifically for wish kids and their families visiting the parks. We had our own house, and the whole place was designed to make life joyful and easy for families carrying heavy things.
There were unbelievable amenities everywhere—arcades, horseback riding, playgrounds, activities, free spa access, and unlimited ice cream whenever you wanted it. They had
And yes, Kinley and Cohen absolutely tested the limits of the “unlimited” part.
For that week, it felt like the world slowed down long enough for us to breathe.
We had park hopper passes the entire trip, so most days looked the same: wake up early, head to a park, wear ourselves out, go back and rest, then head back out again that evening.
Disney was amazing to us.
At the Disney parks, we were given special fast passes that let us skip the long lines, which completely changed the experience.
But Universal Studios took things to another level.
At nearly every ride, a team member would walk us through the back entrances directly to the front of the line. Then when the ride ended, they would ask:
“Do y’all want to ride again?”
And honestly… sometimes we absolutely did.
Our favorite ride by far was Guardians of the Galaxy.
Typically, Megan and I would be way too nervous to ride a lot of the bigger rides.
Not this trip.
Honestly, we felt invincible.
Going into Disney, I assumed we would need to take things slow for Kinley. Instead, we spent most of the trip trying to keep up with her.
She wanted to ride everything.
Then ride it again.
And again.
Early on in this journey, one of the doctors had warned us to avoid activities that could “shake Kinley up” too much—things like horseback riding, rough rides, or anything too intense.
But more recently, the doctor overseeing her clinical trial looked at us and basically said:
“You know what? Let her rip.”
And we did.
We rode the big rides.
We laughed until we cried.
We stayed out late.
We made memories nonstop.
And honestly, it changed something in all of us.
For so long, cancer had made us cautious. Careful. Hesitant. Like we were constantly trying to protect tomorrow.
But this trip reminded us that we still have today.
And today matters too.
Kinley got an unbelievable experience.
We all did.
Not because it distracted us from reality.
But because, for a little while, we stopped surviving…
and just lived.
Do I Really Believe This?
During this season, I kept having the same recurring thought:
Maybe Kinley will meet Jesus before I do.
That thought breaks my heart.
But at the same time, if I truly believe what I say I believe, then heaven is better than this place.
So the question became very real for me:
Do I really believe this Jesus thing?
For real?
And the answer is yes.
I do.
I believe God sent His Son, Jesus, to die on the cross for our sins so that we could spend eternity with Him.
And honestly, Kinley has been leading our family spiritually more than she probably realizes. She won’t let us eat a meal or go to bed without praying together.
Her faith has carried us in moments when ours felt weak.
So if all of this is true—and if there is no way for me to save her on my own—then there is only one thing left for me to do:
Surrender her to God.
One Day at a Time
As we continue this clinical trial journey through St. Jude, we are carrying both heartbreak and hope at the same time.
We are still praying for healing.
Still praying for a miracle.
Still doing everything we can.
But we are also learning to walk this road with open hands—trusting God one step, one scan, one lab result, and one day at a time.
And even in the uncertainty, we are grateful.
Grateful for the people caring for Kinley.
Grateful for the strength God continues to provide our family.
And grateful for the reminder that Kinley has always belonged to Him first.
“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:7 💛
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