August 14-15, 2025. Finding Joy on the Trails, in the Shadows, and in Christ
What if I told you that a diagnosis, even one as sobering as metastatic (stage 4) breast cancer, doesn’t have to mean the end of adventure? That it might, in fact, be the beginning of a new kind of abundant living? Different, yes, but abundant. I want to share one story of joy, love, and a little mystery from a recent trip with my husband to Cuyahoga Valley National Park—a place where wild nature and the whisper of hope wind along every trail.
The Ledges Trail: Where Wonder Meets Stone and Sky
We started our day with the Ledges Trail, a 2-mile loop famed for its dramatic rock formations, sun-dappled moss, and secret caves. My husband and I laced up our tennis shoes and set off with hearts full of anticipation.
Tip: Come prepared! I would have pulled out my hiking poles and worn my hiking boots if I had realized how many rocks we would scramble over. It’s not a difficult trail, but can be a little tricky for someone with balance and joint issues.
Nevertheless, while I didn’t expect the rocky terrain on the trail, it became a chance to adapt and push my limits. Instead of being discouraged, I embraced the challenge, and we managed to boost our daily steps while discovering new strength in ourselves.
Stepping into the quiet cathedral of pines, it struck me: this is what it means to live—really live—even with cancer as a quiet companion. More importantly, I get to live this life with the best caregiver as my hiking buddy, who stretches out his hand to catch me if I stumble.
The trail meandered through forests that felt ancient and wise, the scent of earth and leaves mingling with laughter and the promise of adventure. We ducked under boughs, hopped across roots, and marveled at the towering cliffs, their sandstone faces streaked with green and gold.
At the overlook, we caught our breath, gazing out over a patchwork of treetops. The world felt big and beautiful, and at that moment, thoughts of cancer or medical appointments slipped away.
Holding hands with the one I love, I was reminded: abundant life isn’t found in the absence of trials, but in the presence of Jesus Christ, guiding and sustaining each day. In every moment, we have the power to create memories, to savor the light filtering through the trees, and to claim joy on this side of life. Let us walk on, hearts open, knowing that each step is a testament to courage, faith, and the unwavering will to live abundantly.
Every step forward is an act of hope, no matter where you are in your cancer journey. With each breath of fresh air and every stride—even when challenged by neuropathy and fatigue—the Holy Spirit prompts, the heart grows stronger, and the soul more resilient. Life is still full of wonder worth fighting for.
Down the Eerie Canal Towpath
Of course, we couldn’t resist the allure of the Erie Canal Towpath. Echoes of history lace this path, where mules once pulled canal boats, the Underground Railroad was actively present, and the shadows seem to hold a thousand secrets. It was the perfect atmosphere for a little playtime.
Hi, I’m Blossom. During the canal days, mules like me walked the towpath, pulling heavy boats behind us. We were strong engines, able to haul 60 tons or more of freight. Mules worked in teams of two or three. Cargo boats had a middle cabin to stable a second team The two teams switched every six hours.
Mule Power: Towing Canal Boats, from the placard at Cuyahoga Valley N.P.
Some people say mules are stubborn, but I think we’re just smart. Horses can work themselves to an early grave. Mules have sense enough to stop when we’re tired. And we refuse to do anything dangerous. Over time, horses will get mouth and harness sores. Not mules. We are also cheaper to feed. Now I’m not saying horses are all bad. They are faster than mules. Early passenger boats used teams of horses when speed was more important than endurance. After the Civil War, canal boats became family businesses. One of the captain’s children was often the muleskinner, leading the team along the towpath.
I got my intelligence from my father. He’s a donkey. I got my athletic ability from my mother. She’s a horse. What is the best trait that you inherited from each parent?
Tim whispered in my ear as the towpath curved between thick stands of trees, their branches creaking in the gentle breeze. The path met the boardwalk into Beaver’s Marsh where wood ducks greeted us. He grinned while squeezing my hand. Even if you don’t get to see what you had hoped for (in this case, beavers), there’s something thrilling about embracing the unknown.
Cancer brings its own shadows—uncertainty, fear, the uninvited “what ifs.” Yet I’ve learned that through faith, even the darkest paths can glow with hope. Jesus walks with us, turning every challenge into an opportunity for courage, laughter, and connection.
Abundance in Every Step
The most beautiful part of our day wasn’t just the scenery, but the sense of freedom and joy. We climbed stairs, walked through a covered bridge, witnessed butterflies and colorful flowers, ate farm fresh corn while swinging on the double swings, swapped silly jokes, and learned that adventure is less about where you go and more about who walks beside you. Whether you have a caring partner on earth or not, Jesus is there each step of the way.
I want to say this, to anyone facing a difficult diagnosis or season: abundant life is possible—yes, even now. Through my journey with metastatic breast cancer, I’ve discovered that life with Jesus is not about scarcity, but overflow. He gives peace that surpasses understanding, and joy that bubbles up in the least-expected places—like a trail at sunset, a beautiful waterfall, or a quiet moment on the towpath with someone you love.
Come, Take the Next Step
If you’re ever near Cuyahoga Valley National Park, I encourage you to lace up your boots, grab a loved one, and walk the Ledges Trail. Let the stones steady you, the trees shelter you, and the adventure—yes, even the eerie ones—remind you that life is still here for the living.
Because abundance isn’t measured by days, but by the love, faith, and wonder we choose. Through Jesus Christ, I am learning to live—truly, joyfully, abundantly—one trail at a time.
We added another stamp to our Passport on this trip, and checked off our 18th National Park.
Pro tip: The America the Beautiful Access Pass is free for anyone who has a disability (terminal cancer is a disability, even if you don’t “feel” disabled). It provides free entry to all National Parks and Historic Sites for the pass holder and family who travel with them. It’s a great way to live life without the added pressure of the financial burden of entrance fees. Check it out!
Just One More Thing
Having terminal cancer is a different experience for everyone, and I do hope this blog is accepted as it is intended. Not everyone can do the things we can do. I get that. Depending on where you are with your diagnosis and whether you are the patient or the caregiver, you will make those determinations. Given the thousands of types and subtypes, cancer treatment is challenging. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. I am fortunate to have cancer treatment that works!
I don’t say this lightly, as not everyone is as fortunate to add years to their life. My mother was in a Hospice House for two weeks at the end of her life. This disease does take people’s lives. Yet even there, in her setting, we enjoyed the beautiful gardens outside her window together. She also enjoyed life with what energy she had as they brought in therapy dogs, listened to people read Scripture, held hands and even encouraged people who came to visit. She taught me how to live life abundantly now as well as when we transition to our eternal Home. That is why I say, as long as I have breath, I intend to live!
Ask God to give you energy. He will provide strength to walk, even if it is just a few steps to your backyard.
À la prochaine…hasta la próxima vez…until next time!
