





Nearly five years ago, our family walked through childhood cancer with our daughter, Ivy. We prayed we would never have to face that road again.
Then, in 2026, our 10-year-old son Wyatt was diagnosed with Stage III Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma, an aggressive form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma.
We are now facing childhood cancer for the second time—with another child, another hospital room, and another season of trying to hold our family together while trusting God through circumstances we never imagined we would face once, much less twice.
We are asking for prayer above everything else. We are also asking those who feel led to help with the financial and practical burdens of Wyatt’s treatment. Every prayer, donation, and shared post reminds us that we are not walking alone.
Our first cancer journey began on April 6, 2021. Ivy was three years old.
In the weeks before her diagnosis, my wife, Carrie, noticed that Ivy was pale, unusually tired, cranky, and losing interest in playing outside. Bloodwork showed something was seriously wrong, and she was sent to Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital in Spokane.
There, we received the diagnosis that changed everything: B-cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
One day, we were living ordinary family life. The next, our three-year-old daughter had cancer.
Ivy’s treatment lasted about two years. It included chemotherapy, spinal taps, hospital stays, fevers, emergency visits, steroid side effects, hair loss, and constant concern about infection. At times, she needed a stroller because treatment had taken so much of her strength. She also broke her leg during treatment.
Cancer affected far more than Ivy’s body. It changed the rhythm of our entire home. Our children adjusted to separations, canceled plans, medical appointments, and one parent being at the hospital while the other kept life moving at home.
A fever was never simply a fever. Every blood test mattered. Every phone call carried weight.
Yet throughout that season, God met us again and again—through doctors and nurses, our church, family, friends, meals, prayers, financial help, gas cards, yard work, and people who quietly stepped into the places where we could no longer carry everything ourselves.
Today, Ivy is eight years old. She is healthy, strong, thriving, and seen for follow-up appointments every six months. We praise God for her life and for how far she has come.
After Ivy finished treatment, we began trying to rebuild emotionally, financially, spiritually, and as a family. We believed the hardest chapter of our lives was behind us.
Then Wyatt began having stomach pain.
At first, Wyatt’s stomach aches did not seem like the beginning of another cancer journey. But the pain worsened, and he was eventually Life Flighted to Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital because doctors suspected a serious intestinal condition.
What followed was a frightening series of tests, including an endoscopy, colonoscopy, scans, bone marrow aspiration, and lumbar punctures.
Then we heard the word “cancer” again.
Wyatt was diagnosed with Stage III Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma.
It is hard to describe what happens inside a parent when a second child is diagnosed with cancer. When Ivy was diagnosed, we were shocked and terrified. When Wyatt was diagnosed, all the fear, exhaustion, and trauma from Ivy’s treatment came rushing back.
I initially felt numb. I could not cry or get angry. I simply felt overwhelmed.
In that moment, I felt the Lord reminding me to trust Him, to trust the doctors, and to lean on the people who love us. At another point, I felt God speak deeply to my heart:
“I know how much you love Wyatt and how you feel. I love him even more.”
That truth has stayed with me.
We do not understand why our family has been asked to walk through childhood cancer twice. But we know that Wyatt is not alone, and neither are we.
Wyatt’s treatment is expected to be shorter than Ivy’s, but it is much more intense.
His care has included repeated inpatient stays, aggressive chemotherapy, chemotherapy delivered into his spinal fluid through lumbar punctures, PICC-line care, medications to support his white blood cell counts, and close monitoring.
He has lost his hair and faced fatigue, nausea, low blood counts, and the risks that come with aggressive chemotherapy.
Even so, Wyatt continues to amaze us. He remains cheerful, loving, and courageous through circumstances no child should face. Some days his smile takes longer to appear, but it is still there. He rarely complains.
During one hospital stay, Wyatt told Carrie, “The best part about the hospital is being with you, Mom.”
That is who he is. Even in a hospital room, connected to medication and going through difficult treatment, he finds something to be grateful for.
Wyatt was admitted on June 10 and is scheduled to be discharged on June 16. He received a lumbar puncture on June 11 and is expected to have another on discharge day. During this stay, he is receiving chemotherapy continuously—24 hours a day for five days.
This treatment can cause fever, sore throat, headaches, nausea, and other side effects. So far, Wyatt has handled it remarkably well, with only mild symptoms or no symptoms at all.
Praise God.
Next week is intended to be a rest and evaluation week. Wyatt will undergo an MRI, CT scan, and PET scan to show how much the tumor has shrunk and how well treatment is working.
During an earlier scan, a radiologist told us that if he had not known Wyatt previously had a tumor, he might have said Wyatt never had one.
We are deeply grateful for that encouraging report. We believe God is healing Wyatt, and we are thankful He is using doctors, nurses, medicine, and treatment as part of that healing.
Wyatt is meeting his treatment goals, gaining weight, and has so far avoided fevers and emergency room visits during this part of treatment.
He is expected to begin another round of intensive continuous chemotherapy on July 1, continuing through approximately July 7. If everything continues according to plan, Wyatt should complete active treatment near the end of July 2026.
We can see the finish line, but a difficult stretch remains.
We are a family with six children, and cancer affects every person in our home.
During hospital stays, Carrie remains with Wyatt while I travel between Spokane and Moscow to work, care for our other children, handle responsibilities at home, and spend as much time as possible with Wyatt.
The costs add up quickly: repeated travel, fuel, meals away from home, missed work, medical supplies, childcare changes, and ordinary household expenses.
There is also an emotional cost that is harder to calculate. Our children have experienced fear, separation, uncertainty, and disrupted routines. Carrie and I are trying to support each of them while also carrying our own exhaustion and emotions.
We do not share this to seek pity. We share it because we need help, and because we believe God often answers prayer through the hands and generosity of other people.
During Ivy’s treatment, she had a shirt that said, “Today is my favorite day.”
That phrase became a quiet motto for our family.
It does not mean every day is easy. Some days have been frightening, painful, exhausting, and heartbreaking.
It means that when our children feel well enough to play, laugh, eat, spend time together, or simply live ordinary life, that day is a gift.
A meal together is a gift.
A child laughing is a gift.
A good scan is a gift.
A day without a fever is a gift.
A trip home from the hospital is a gift.
Today is our favorite day because today is the day God has given us.
First and most importantly, please pray.
Please pray that Wyatt’s upcoming scans show a complete response to treatment. Pray that he continues to tolerate chemotherapy well and remains protected from infection, fever, and serious side effects.
Please pray for strength, peace, and endurance for Carrie and me. Pray for Ivy and all of Wyatt’s brothers and sisters as they continue making sacrifices and adjusting to life during treatment. Please also pray for wisdom for his doctors, nurses, and medical team.
Financial donations will help with travel, fuel, meals, missed work, medical-related costs, and the many added expenses that arise while caring for a child receiving treatment away from home.
Sharing this campaign is also an enormous help. Someone in your church, family, workplace, or community may feel led to pray for Wyatt or support our family.
We understand not everyone is able to give financially. A prayer, an encouraging message, or simply sharing Wyatt’s story means more than we can express.
We never expected to become a family with two childhood cancer stories.
We would never have chosen this road. But along the way, we have seen extraordinary compassion, generosity, and faithfulness.
We have seen God carry us through moments when we had no strength left of our own. We have seen Him work through doctors and medicine, friends and strangers, our church and community, and people who chose to stand beside a family they may not personally know.
Thank you for taking the time to read about Ivy, Wyatt, and our family.
Thank you for praying.
Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for helping us reach the end of Wyatt’s treatment and begin rebuilding once again.
Whatever today holds, we will continue trusting God, loving our children, and remembering:
Today is my favorite day.
Click the Pray button to let the fundraiser owner know you are praying for them.
Fundraiser created byMatt Risner
Fundraiser funds will be received by Matt Risner






Fundraiser created byMatt Risner
Fundraiser funds will be received by Matt Risner
Nearly five years ago, our family walked through childhood cancer with our daughter, Ivy. We prayed we would never have to face that road again.
Then, in 2026, our 10-year-old son Wyatt was diagnosed with Stage III Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma, an aggressive form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma.
We are now facing childhood cancer for the second time—with another child, another hospital room, and another season of trying to hold our family together while trusting God through circumstances we never imagined we would face once, much less twice.
We are asking for prayer above everything else. We are also asking those who feel led to help with the financial and practical burdens of Wyatt’s treatment. Every prayer, donation, and shared post reminds us that we are not walking alone.
Our first cancer journey began on April 6, 2021. Ivy was three years old.
In the weeks before her diagnosis, my wife, Carrie, noticed that Ivy was pale, unusually tired, cranky, and losing interest in playing outside. Bloodwork showed something was seriously wrong, and she was sent to Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital in Spokane.
There, we received the diagnosis that changed everything: B-cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
One day, we were living ordinary family life. The next, our three-year-old daughter had cancer.
Ivy’s treatment lasted about two years. It included chemotherapy, spinal taps, hospital stays, fevers, emergency visits, steroid side effects, hair loss, and constant concern about infection. At times, she needed a stroller because treatment had taken so much of her strength. She also broke her leg during treatment.
Cancer affected far more than Ivy’s body. It changed the rhythm of our entire home. Our children adjusted to separations, canceled plans, medical appointments, and one parent being at the hospital while the other kept life moving at home.
A fever was never simply a fever. Every blood test mattered. Every phone call carried weight.
Yet throughout that season, God met us again and again—through doctors and nurses, our church, family, friends, meals, prayers, financial help, gas cards, yard work, and people who quietly stepped into the places where we could no longer carry everything ourselves.
Today, Ivy is eight years old. She is healthy, strong, thriving, and seen for follow-up appointments every six months. We praise God for her life and for how far she has come.
After Ivy finished treatment, we began trying to rebuild emotionally, financially, spiritually, and as a family. We believed the hardest chapter of our lives was behind us.
Then Wyatt began having stomach pain.
At first, Wyatt’s stomach aches did not seem like the beginning of another cancer journey. But the pain worsened, and he was eventually Life Flighted to Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital because doctors suspected a serious intestinal condition.
What followed was a frightening series of tests, including an endoscopy, colonoscopy, scans, bone marrow aspiration, and lumbar punctures.
Then we heard the word “cancer” again.
Wyatt was diagnosed with Stage III Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma.
It is hard to describe what happens inside a parent when a second child is diagnosed with cancer. When Ivy was diagnosed, we were shocked and terrified. When Wyatt was diagnosed, all the fear, exhaustion, and trauma from Ivy’s treatment came rushing back.
I initially felt numb. I could not cry or get angry. I simply felt overwhelmed.
In that moment, I felt the Lord reminding me to trust Him, to trust the doctors, and to lean on the people who love us. At another point, I felt God speak deeply to my heart:
“I know how much you love Wyatt and how you feel. I love him even more.”
That truth has stayed with me.
We do not understand why our family has been asked to walk through childhood cancer twice. But we know that Wyatt is not alone, and neither are we.
Wyatt’s treatment is expected to be shorter than Ivy’s, but it is much more intense.
His care has included repeated inpatient stays, aggressive chemotherapy, chemotherapy delivered into his spinal fluid through lumbar punctures, PICC-line care, medications to support his white blood cell counts, and close monitoring.
He has lost his hair and faced fatigue, nausea, low blood counts, and the risks that come with aggressive chemotherapy.
Even so, Wyatt continues to amaze us. He remains cheerful, loving, and courageous through circumstances no child should face. Some days his smile takes longer to appear, but it is still there. He rarely complains.
During one hospital stay, Wyatt told Carrie, “The best part about the hospital is being with you, Mom.”
That is who he is. Even in a hospital room, connected to medication and going through difficult treatment, he finds something to be grateful for.
Wyatt was admitted on June 10 and is scheduled to be discharged on June 16. He received a lumbar puncture on June 11 and is expected to have another on discharge day. During this stay, he is receiving chemotherapy continuously—24 hours a day for five days.
This treatment can cause fever, sore throat, headaches, nausea, and other side effects. So far, Wyatt has handled it remarkably well, with only mild symptoms or no symptoms at all.
Praise God.
Next week is intended to be a rest and evaluation week. Wyatt will undergo an MRI, CT scan, and PET scan to show how much the tumor has shrunk and how well treatment is working.
During an earlier scan, a radiologist told us that if he had not known Wyatt previously had a tumor, he might have said Wyatt never had one.
We are deeply grateful for that encouraging report. We believe God is healing Wyatt, and we are thankful He is using doctors, nurses, medicine, and treatment as part of that healing.
Wyatt is meeting his treatment goals, gaining weight, and has so far avoided fevers and emergency room visits during this part of treatment.
He is expected to begin another round of intensive continuous chemotherapy on July 1, continuing through approximately July 7. If everything continues according to plan, Wyatt should complete active treatment near the end of July 2026.
We can see the finish line, but a difficult stretch remains.
We are a family with six children, and cancer affects every person in our home.
During hospital stays, Carrie remains with Wyatt while I travel between Spokane and Moscow to work, care for our other children, handle responsibilities at home, and spend as much time as possible with Wyatt.
The costs add up quickly: repeated travel, fuel, meals away from home, missed work, medical supplies, childcare changes, and ordinary household expenses.
There is also an emotional cost that is harder to calculate. Our children have experienced fear, separation, uncertainty, and disrupted routines. Carrie and I are trying to support each of them while also carrying our own exhaustion and emotions.
We do not share this to seek pity. We share it because we need help, and because we believe God often answers prayer through the hands and generosity of other people.
During Ivy’s treatment, she had a shirt that said, “Today is my favorite day.”
That phrase became a quiet motto for our family.
It does not mean every day is easy. Some days have been frightening, painful, exhausting, and heartbreaking.
It means that when our children feel well enough to play, laugh, eat, spend time together, or simply live ordinary life, that day is a gift.
A meal together is a gift.
A child laughing is a gift.
A good scan is a gift.
A day without a fever is a gift.
A trip home from the hospital is a gift.
Today is our favorite day because today is the day God has given us.
First and most importantly, please pray.
Please pray that Wyatt’s upcoming scans show a complete response to treatment. Pray that he continues to tolerate chemotherapy well and remains protected from infection, fever, and serious side effects.
Please pray for strength, peace, and endurance for Carrie and me. Pray for Ivy and all of Wyatt’s brothers and sisters as they continue making sacrifices and adjusting to life during treatment. Please also pray for wisdom for his doctors, nurses, and medical team.
Financial donations will help with travel, fuel, meals, missed work, medical-related costs, and the many added expenses that arise while caring for a child receiving treatment away from home.
Sharing this campaign is also an enormous help. Someone in your church, family, workplace, or community may feel led to pray for Wyatt or support our family.
We understand not everyone is able to give financially. A prayer, an encouraging message, or simply sharing Wyatt’s story means more than we can express.
We never expected to become a family with two childhood cancer stories.
We would never have chosen this road. But along the way, we have seen extraordinary compassion, generosity, and faithfulness.
We have seen God carry us through moments when we had no strength left of our own. We have seen Him work through doctors and medicine, friends and strangers, our church and community, and people who chose to stand beside a family they may not personally know.
Thank you for taking the time to read about Ivy, Wyatt, and our family.
Thank you for praying.
Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for helping us reach the end of Wyatt’s treatment and begin rebuilding once again.
Whatever today holds, we will continue trusting God, loving our children, and remembering:
Today is my favorite day.
Click the Pray button to let the fundraiser owner know you are praying for them.

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