My name is Sarah. I’m 7 years old. Right now, I’m fighting brain cancer.

Most kids my age wake up thinking about cartoons, school snacks, and what game they’ll play after dinner. But my mornings look different.

I wake up in a hospital bed, wrapped in warm blankets, with the hum of monitors and tubes beside me. Sometimes my head hurts. Sometimes my body feels so heavy I can barely move. And sometimes… I’m just really, really tired.

My mom sits close to me every day. She holds my hand, strokes my cheek, and whispers, “You’re so brave.” Even when she smiles, I can see the tears she tries to hide. Because watching your child fight something this big is the hardest thing in the world.

There are days I don’t feel like talking. Days I don’t feel like eating. Days when I just want to close my eyes and pretend I’m back at home—running in the yard, laughing like nothing ever happened.

But then… something small reminds me I’m not alone.

A card from someone I’ve never met. A message that says, “Keep fighting, Lucas!” A prayer sent quietly from a stranger’s heart.

Somehow, those little things feel like big things. They remind me that when you’re only 7, courage isn’t loud.

It’s just waking up again. It’s taking one more breath. It’s holding on—one day at a time.

Sarah may be small, but his fight is mighty. And a simple prayer from you means more than you could ever imagine.

Please keep Lucas in your thoughts and prayers today. Because sometimes, love is the strongest medicine of all.