Cher here! I wanted to write a tribute to Hailey and Brady, even though it came late this year.
*taps mic* this thing on?!
When I look at these two photos side by side, it feels like I’m looking at a love story that has been written in both sunlight and fire.
On the left is 2020, their anniversary. Twelve years of marriage already behind them, standing in the snow with that quiet confidence that comes from years of choosing each other. I remember taking that photo and thinking how steady they were. How natural their love felt. It was beautiful, but it was still a chapter we couldn’t fully understand yet.
On the right is 2025, Laela’s Grade 6 graduation. Five and a half years later. The same two hearts. The same covenant. But refined in a way only suffering can refine something.
In between those two photos is a story most people will never fully see.
Brady faced spinal surgery for a tumor that left him paralyzed. Years later, he endured a brain tumor, had it removed, and then faced recurrence in a different place. His mobility changed drastically. The future shifted…plans changed. There were days NO ONE would have chosen.
And yet, through every surgery, every medication, every learning curve, every adjustment to a new normal, their love did not shrink, it deepened.
Brady’s wheelchair has never defined him. It has never stolen his humor, his presence, his faith, or his devotion as a husband and father. He continues to work and show up. He pushes to lead his home with strength that doesn’t come from working legs, but from the Spirit of God within him. If anything, his joy has become sharper, his gratitude more intentional, and his faith more unshakable.
And Hailey… I don’t even know how to put her into words. Her capacity has stretched in ways only heaven could have prepared her for. She has carried, comforted, advocated, mothered, and served without letting bitterness take root. Instead of retreating, they opened their home even wider, welcoming medical foster babies, loving children who needed stability, and continuing to say yes to serving others even when it would have been understandable to pull back.
They go to the lake. They travel. They stay involved. Their life is fuller now, not smaller. There is a holy defiance in the way they refuse to let hardship dictate the size of their joy.
Through it all, they have trusted the Lord. Not with a shallow faith, but with a tested one. The kind that wrestles and still believes. The kind that says, “Though everything feels uncertain, we will still build. We will still love. We will still serve.”
Seventeen years of marriage. Five years of unimaginable trials. And somehow there is more laughter, more closeness, and more depth than before.
It is one of the greatest privileges of my life to witness this kind of covenant. To see what it looks like when two people don’t just promise “for better or worse,” but live it. And to watch suffering turn into strength and see faith become flesh.
This is not just a before and after.
This is endurance, grace, and a love that has been carried. And is STILL being carried by God.
Happy 17 years to my best friends 💜