Nothing could have prepared me for the moment I learned my husband had cancer. And nothing could have prepared me to discover what our coworkers really thought of us during that time.
My husband, Taylor, and I have been fortunate to work for the same company: the first Build then Bless company, Lemonade Stand. We started working here in 2019 and have genuinely loved building our careers here among people we consider our second family.
(Is working from the same house for the same company healthy? Well, that’s not really the point. But we’re still married and on speaking terms, which feels like a net positive.)
In the time we’ve worked at Lemonade Stand, Taylor and I have graduated college, had children, moved a few times, and built a life together. We’ve celebrated a lot of milestones! We also got some of the worst news ever. Cancer really puts a damper on the whole five-year-plan, doesn’t it?
The day we found out was my watershed moment. There’s life before, and there’s life after. A few weeks before that day, we had welcomed our second daughter into the world. We were anxious to figure out life with a toddler and newborn, thinking our biggest challenge would be sleepless nights.
Sleepless nights were undoubtedly in our future, just not for the reasons we imagined.
That day, June 19th, 2023, we sat in a curtained-off corner of a crowded GI clinic on a Monday afternoon, Taylor still silly from the anesthesia. We were chatting and laughing when the doctor parted the curtain and stepped in. When we saw the look on his face, we immediately knew something was very wrong.
Taylor had stage 3 colorectal cancer.
Going from giggling to grieving in a matter of minutes was unnatural, to say the least. I started to feel queasy almost instantly. It was as if my whole body couldn’t fathom how this could happen to my 27-year-old husband, the father of our two baby girls.
Unsurprisingly, the emotional downpour was quick to follow for me. By the end of the day, I didn’t think I had any tears left to spare (never fear, I did. Lots more. Over the next several months.).
But if you know Taylor, it’s also unsurprising that he kept his cool. He stayed calm and collected, from the moment the doctor spoke the words, “It doesn’t look good,” to the moment we broke the news to both our families. He took the time to comfort everyone else first, until he finally walked into our bedroom and had a good, healthy cry.
That’s just his nature. Taylor is constant, steady, and reliable, and even cancer wasn’t going to take that away from him.
In fact, after that good cry and a fitful sleep, Taylor’s mind immediately went to how this news would affect the people who relied on him. Even though his own fear and worry had very much taken root, Taylor picked up the phone and called our boss, Greg.
It was a tough call. Greg responded to the news just like many of our close friends and family members did, with shock and sadness. But immediately after comprehending the news, he said words that we’ll never forget:
“Taylor, prioritize your health. Above all, that’s what matters right now. You will always have a job and a paycheck.”
Overnight, cancer had become a heavy weight on our family, and here Greg was, taking some of that weight off and putting it on his own back. While other cancer victims we knew were losing their jobs and their insurance because they couldn’t work through treatment, Greg assured us that would never happen. His kindness left us speechless.
The compassion didn’t end there.
The president of Lemonade Stand and our good friend, John, told Taylor to find the very best doctors. It didn’t matter who or where they were, Lemonade Stand would figure out a way to help Taylor get the best treatment possible, even if the employer-sponsored insurance didn’t cover it.
By this point, we were floored. But the kindness just kept flowing.
Over the course of the next year, our very aptly named Director of Happiness, Kristyn, sent us meals, gift cards for groceries, Christmas presents for our girls, and anything else she thought might make our lives easier.
The content team pooled their own hard-earned money and gifted our family a beautiful stay in Midway, Utah, along with a kind note letting us know they were all thinking about our family.
Several account managers stepped in without a complaint and took on Taylor’s client work on difficult chemo weeks.
Other teammates sent us countless personal messages checking in on us, offering to babysit our kids, and sending us words of encouragement.
They were right there with us to celebrate all the ups (radiation was successful!) and commiserate all the downs (resection surgery really blows!).
They cried with us.
They cheered us on.
It’s not that we didn’t already know the people we work with were good people. We’ve been blessed over and over by them during our time at Lemonade Stand. But the type of kindness they showed to us when we were in a dark time was so above and beyond, it was shocking in a way.
That generosity, the way they built and blessed us, meant more to us than they’ll ever know. In fact, here’s what they really gave us:
Greg’s assurance of a constant paycheck gave us stability that we clung to in a time of utter uncertainty.
John’s advice gave Taylor the freedom to seek treatment from three of the leading colorectal doctors in the western US, all three of whom happened to be miraculously covered by our insurance through Lemonade Stand.
The content team’s offer gave us much-needed time together as a family and a perfect distraction from our sorrow.
Kristyn’s thoughtful gifts gave us relief from the stresses of everyday life while Taylor focused on surviving treatment.
Those personal messages lifted and carried us.
It’s not hard to guess what all of this made Taylor want to do—constant, steady, and reliable as he is. It made him want to fight.
I watched him get kicked down by treatment over and over and over again, only to get back up again and show up for us and his coworkers whenever and however he could.
Because they’re like family. Because Taylor wanted to be there for them the way they were there for us.
With that fight, infinite divine intervention, 6 rounds of chemo, 28 rounds of radiation, 4 surgeries, 250 Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, 5 million tears, and 1 unbeatable crowd rallying behind us, we got the very best outcome:
Taylor is cancer-free and has been in remission for two years now.
Just like those talented doctors saved Taylor’s life, I don’t think it’s a stretch at all to say the people at Lemonade Stand did, too. On top of that, they carried me and my daughters through it.
This company culture is not normal. I know that. I know this is something special.
But could it become normal? Common, even?
We spend so much of our lives with our coworkers. I truly think that a culture where reaching out a helping hand is second nature—even if you have nothing to gain from it—is what people are longing to be part of.
Taylor’s story is proof. Lemonade Stand is proof. So many other Build then Bless companies are proof that this type of culture, the kind where we are thrilled to serve, isn’t idealistic. It’s the reality we all want.
We’re all just human beings, after all. Human beings who might even be facing life or death. And as employers and coworkers, you can change someone’s life, even help save someone’s life, just by seeing others as the humans they are.
So what do our coworkers actually think of us?
I think they see us the same way everyone deserves to be seen: as people worth building, blessing, and showing up for.
