At just three and a half years old, Ruby has already learned what it means to be strong in ways no child ever should.
Her journey with astrocytoma has been marked by long days and longer nights—days filled with medications whose names are hard to pronounce, therapies that demanded patience far beyond her years, and hospital rooms that became far too familiar. For Ruby and her family, life has often revolved around appointments, scans, and waiting for answers that never come quickly.
One of the most frightening chapters came when swelling began to affect Ruby’s vision. Simple things—seeing clearly, recognizing faces, watching the world move around her—became uncertain. For her parents, it was another weight added to hearts already carrying so much hope and fear at the same time.
But this week brought a moment they had been praying for.
Doctors confirmed that Ruby’s brain tumors are stable. In the world of childhood illness, stability is not just a medical term—it is a gift. It means the disease is not advancing. It means time to breathe. Time to regroup. Time to hope again.
Then came even more encouraging news.
The swelling that once threatened Ruby’s eyesight is gone, and her vision has been fully restored to 20/20. The little girl who had endured so much can now see the world clearly again—its colors, its movement, its magic. For a child whose imagination is a big part of who she is, this healing touched far more than just her eyes.
With clarity has come excitement.
Ruby is already talking about going back to dance class, about building things again with her hands, and about returning to the imaginative worlds she creates with her baby dolls and her rainbow unicorn. These may seem like small details, but for her family, they are signs of life returning to something that feels wonderfully normal.
To celebrate this precious milestone, Ruby and her family chose joy. They spent the day at the zoo, watching a sea lion show and soaking in laughter, wonder, and the simple happiness of being together. Because fighters don’t wait for perfect circumstances to celebrate—they embrace joy whenever it appears.
Today is not the end of Ruby’s journey. There will still be checkups, continued care, and careful watching. But today is a pause. A moment to give thanks for stability. A moment to acknowledge healing. A moment to recognize the strength of a little girl and the faith of a family who refuses to stop hoping.
Today, we praise God alongside them.
For carrying them through the valleys.
For restoring what was threatened.
For every small miracle that builds toward a brighter tomorrow.
Please continue to lift Ruby up—for ongoing protection, continued healing, and many days ahead filled with dancing, laughter, imagination, and light. 💛
