SG. The Texas boy so many of us have been lifting up in prayer just received the kind of news his family has been desperately hoping for.

Three months ago, I first shared the heartbreaking story of 9-year-old José and his sudden, devastating leukemia diagnosis. At the time, his life had changed overnight. The carefree rhythm of childhood — school, laughter, playing outside — was replaced with hospital corridors, IV poles, and machines that beeped relentlessly through the dark.

His world had shrunk to a single room.

Today, that same little boy is standing at the edge of a new chapter. His doctors are officially moving forward with a bone marrow transplant — and in a moment that feels nothing short of miraculous, his sister is a match.

Let that sink in.

Back in October, José was so sick he couldn’t even leave the hospital. His fevers refused to break, spiking again and again despite aggressive treatment. Within just a few days, he lost 11 pounds. The chemotherapy that was meant to save his life left his small body bruised and fragile. Blood vessels burst in his eye. He became too weak to stand on his own.

For a child who should have been running and playing, even sitting up felt like a mountain.

One of the hardest moments for his family was watching him cry when he realized his hair would fall out. It wasn’t vanity. It was the painful understanding that cancer had taken control. That his life would not be the same. More than anything, he just wanted to go home — back to his bed, his toys, his sense of normal.

Doctors warned his family that the road ahead would not be easy. They spoke of eight long, grueling months of chemotherapy. They prepared them for complications. And they explained that if his body couldn’t tolerate the intense treatment, a bone marrow transplant might be the next and necessary step.

At the time, “might” felt distant. Hypothetical. Something no parent wants to truly consider.

Now, after months filled with constant fevers, endless needles, exhaustion, nausea, and pain he never asked for, that possible next step has become reality.

This Saturday marks José’s final round of chemotherapy.

It is both an ending and a beginning.

In approximately six weeks, he and his family will travel to Houston, where he will undergo the transplant procedure. Doctors expect he will remain there for at least four months — possibly longer — as they monitor him closely. Those months will be filled with careful observation, daily tests, and anxious waiting to see whether his body accepts his sister’s lifesaving gift.

A bone marrow transplant is not a simple procedure. It is serious. It carries risks. It demands immense strength — physically and emotionally. For a 9-year-old child, it is overwhelming and frightening.

His family has been honest about the toll this journey has taken. There were days José said he wanted to give up. Days when he was tired of the medicine. Tired of the pain. Tired of being poked and prodded. Tired of staring at the same hospital walls while life outside kept moving.

But even on the hardest days, he kept going.

He showed up for every treatment.
He endured every needle.
He faced every setback with a courage far beyond his years.

And now, because of that perseverance — and because of a sister willing to give a part of herself to save him — there is hope.

Hope that this transplant will reset his body.
Hope that his immune system will grow stronger.
Hope that one day, hospital monitors will be replaced with playground swings.
Hope that this chapter — the one filled with fear and uncertainty — will become part of a much larger story of survival.

For now, the road ahead is still uncertain. The transplant will require isolation, patience, and tremendous faith. His family knows the risks. They know the challenges. But they also know this is a chance.

A real chance.

As José prepares for what may be the biggest fight of his young life, encouragement matters more than ever. Words matter. Support matters. Faith matters.

If you could place a message in his hands before he walks into that hospital in Houston… what would you say?

What words of strength would you give a brave 9-year-old who has already endured more than most adults ever will?

Leave him a message of love and courage. Let him know he is not fighting alone. 💛🙏