12/26/2025
Sometimes the hardest part of advocacy isn’t the work itself—it’s navigating the emotional landscape that comes with loving people through cancer while quietly carrying your own fears, memories, and unanswered prayers.
Over the past 3 years, I have been deeply honored to stand beside, walk with, and support 1,986 cancer warriors, thrivers, caregivers, and families through Bridging The Gap Between Cancer & Hope. Each story entrusted to me has mattered. Each life has left a mark on my heart. This work has never been just a nonprofit to me—it has been a calling.
This past year, and especially the last few months, have brought challenges I never expected. I was faced with the news of a nodule in my right lung, followed by a PET scan showing uptake consistent with cancer activity. The uncertainty of whether this is a metastasis or a secondary cancer has been heavy and emotionally exhausting in ways only those who walk this road truly understand.
At the same time, cancer has once again made itself known within my family. On January 2, 2025, my sister received her diagnosis, stage three Hodgkins lymphoma. In the 2 weeks, my stepdad received a received a secondary diagnosis of Basal Cell Carcinoma and my aunt was diagnosed with lung cancer. Standing beside them—while navigating my own new and uncertain journey—has made it clear that 2025 has been a battle for my family from the very beginning.
As I’ve done so many times before, I prayed. Long hours. Many tears. Quiet moments asking God to lead when I didn’t know how to take the next step. And through those prayers, I came to a decision that has not been easy, but one I know is necessary.
After much reflection and faith-filled consideration, I will be closing Bridging The Gap Between Cancer & Hope effective December 31, 2025.
This decision is not rooted in loss of love, passion, or my mission & promise that no one stands alone. It is rooted in the understanding that to continue supporting others well, I must now create space to care for myself, my new journey ahead and to be fully present for my immediate family as we each face cancer this year.
Stepping back does not mean stepping away in spirit, heart or love. I will always pour into, support & stand with the cancer community. I will always hold space for warriors, thrivers, caregivers, and families. I will continue to support in the ways I am able—at my own pace, with grace, and without expectations or heaviness of owning a business.
Last year, I wrote about how advocacy can sometimes bring stories that hit too close to home—how fear, hope, and vulnerability can rush back all at once. I shared how God reminded me, through prayer and an unexpected blessings, that I was exactly where He wanted me to be. I still believe that. And I believe this next step is also part of His plan.
To my fellow advocates, warriors, and prayer partners: it is okay to pause. It is okay to feel vulnerable. It is okay to choose healing and family when the weight becomes too heavy. None of this diminishes the impact we’ve made together.
Thank you for trusting me with your stories. Thank you for allowing me to walk this journey alongside you. Thank you for the love, prayers, and support you have given me in return.
This is not goodbye—it is simply a step back, taken with faith, humility, and hope.
With love, gratitude, and continued belief in every warrior’s strength,
Elisha Upchurch
Bridging The Gap Between Cancer & Hope
