The Journey Continues
We’re still walking this road—and this time, Ross is driving it solo.
Not because we planned it that way, but because it feels right for where we are. The flying, the logistics, the cost, the quiet unease that’s hard to explain—it all added up to him saying, “I think I’ll drive.” And so, with a bag packed and a playlist loaded, he’s heading north, just him and the open road.
It’s more than a drive. It’s space. It’s silence. It’s something cathartic. A few days to clear his head before stepping back into tests, machines, and treatment plans. There’s a kind of peace in the miles, even when you’re not exactly sure what’s waiting at the end of them.
If you’ve been following our story, you know we’ve hit some sharp turns. From the day we first heard “uveal melanoma,” through the whirlwind of insurance struggles, clinical trial hurdles, and the eventual decision for radiation, we’ve been navigating this one mile at a time. But there’s been progress. There’s been hope. And now, another chapter begins.
As for me—I’m staying here this time. I am holding it down with the kids. I refresh my location app on my phone more than I care to admit and praying like I always do.
“Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; He will neither fail you nor abandon you.”
—Deuteronomy 31:8
That verse brings me peace. The idea that someone has already gone ahead of us. That the road—unpredictable and exhausting as it can be—isn’t unfamiliar to the One who sees beyond it.
I had a conversation with a cashier at the grocery store about our story. We discussed the testimony of how faith has played a huge part in this journey. At the end of it, I smiled and said, “It’s gonna be okay.” Without hesitation, she looked right at me and said, “It already is.”
You know… she’s right. I needed that reminder. It already is. Even when it doesn’t look like it, even when it doesn’t feel like it—peace is already planted. Healing is already in motion. God is already ahead of us.
I feel moved to share a few prayers that came to mind while thinking of this post:
A Prayer for the Road
Lord, cover Ross as he travels. Surround him with safety, clarity, and peace. May every mile be wrapped in Your presence. Keep him alert, calm, and focused. Let this drive be a space for healing—not just in his body and in his eyeball, but in his spirit too. Amen.
A Prayer for the Journey of Healing
God, we lift up every appointment, every treatment, every result, and every conversation. We know You are present in the science and in the silence. Thank You for the progress so far. We trust You with what’s ahead. Heal what only You can heal. Amen.
Thank you all for continuing to walk with us. For reading. For reaching out. For showing up in small and beautiful ways that remind us we’re not alone in this.
The journey continues—and we’re taking it, one mile and one miracle at a time.
And just like that cashier reminded me:
It already is.
With love,
The Traveling Withers
💙🖤💙 Want to Help?
Ross will be returning to Minnesota in May and June for continued treatment. We’re preparing for the travel, lodging, and medical costs that come with it. If you’d like to support our journey, you can donate through our GoFundMe. Every gift—big or small—helps lighten the load and reminds us we’re not walking this road alone.
Thank you for your love, prayers, and kindness. It already is—because of people like you. 💙🖤💙
thetravelingwithers.com 
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