Hello! We are the Rardin Family. It’s an honor to introduce ourselves to you and share a glimpse into our family’s ongoing battle with childhood cancer. Matthew and I have been married for 14 years and share 4 beautiful children. We have lived all around the United States, moving wherever the Marines Corps ordered and celebrated the concept of making “home” wherever we have found ourselves, as long as we are all together. Wyatt, 12, is a typical oldest child. He is fiercely independent and takes his role as a big brother very seriously. I mean it when I say that the Lord knew well what he was doing when he equipped Wyatt to be our first born. Our family would not thrive without his beautiful spirit. Cole, 6, is our second child. A miracle right from the start, after many years of praying for him. He is a constant jokester, lego builder extraordinaire and always goes out of his way to make sure everyone is included. Grace and Eli, 4, are our twins! They came into our family with a bang and have kept us on our toes ever since. Eli always has a smile on his face and is the most affectionate of all the kids. Grace may be our only little girl, but she has found her voice and certainly keeps the boys on their toes. We received military orders to Pensacola, Florida in the summer of 2023. In November 2023 we went to a new pediatrician to have some concerns checked out regarding Cole as we began noticing an abrupt change in Cole’s weight and stamina the month prior. Only living in Pensacola for 3 months at that time, getting settled into a new military base had us distracted and new exposures made the frequent runny nose and mild cough seem like a result of a new environment. It wasn’t our first move, after all, being a military family. I’m sad to say that our initial conversation with the pediatrician did not go well. We were shamed and told that his weight loss was “only a few pounds” and that we “had to just make him eat because we are the boss and not him.” At that visit, I pressed on and insisted that getting some lab work done would be worth it for peace of mind at a minimum. We had lab work done, at our insistence, and within 4 hours of those labs being drawn, that same pediatrician called Matthew and instructed him to go straight to the emergency room with Cole. That his labs were suggestive of Leukemia and that the ER would be able to tell us more and confirm with repeat labs and imaging. Matthew called me at work and relayed the message. I can’t tell you anything that happened over the next hour with any clarity. I know I called the doctor myself as I walked out of work without a word to anyone. I remember calling our sitter to find out where she was with the kids and I remember walking into the public library and picking up Cole. Hugging the other kids and rushing out with tears streaming to the ER to meet Matthew. Fear like I had never know consuming me from that moment on. That fear would continue for the next 12 months at least. Blood work was repeated in the ER, a chest X-ray was taken and as soon as I saw an unfamiliar face come into our ER bay and sit down on the end of Cole’s bed, my heart sank. Matthew and I sat, hand in hand, and listened as Dr. Schwartz, the pediatric oncologist, explained to us that Cole has Cancer. Not only did he have cancer, but he had an extremely large mass on his chest that was at risk of crushing his airway and heart vessels at any time with its rate of growth. I knew what Leukemia meant. I knew that meant cancer, but watching the light go out of my husbands’ eyes as he too realized after a few minutes of Dr. Schwartz talking, that Leukemia meant cancer is a feeling of despair I will never forget. Helplessness both for what we couldn’t do for Cole and for the pain I knew my husband was feeling as I dealt with my own. We were immediately transferred to Shands in Gainesville, Florida to the Pediatric ICU where we remained for the next 31 days. They explained that we needed to be in a treatment facility that had access to an ECMO machine for pediatric patients. The mass in Cole’s chest was positioned in a way that its growth would eventually crush his airway and make it impossible to intubate him. In Gainesville, we were treated with immeasurable kindness. The treatment team, nurses, child life specialists, patient care technicians and and environmental services staff did all they could to make our stay there the best they could. We were grateful guests of the Ronald McDonald house for many nights as Matthew and I switched off. It was also a Godsend. The first phase of treatment is called induction. The most basic way to explain it, is that they throw the biggest guns they have at the cancer in hopes or eradicating it from the body and pushing the child into “remission.” That phase was all completed in Gainesville, Florida. We were stripped suddenly away from our home, away from our other children without explanation and remained gone for 31 days. Cole’s official diagnosis is T-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. His course has been complicated by a large, complex mediastinal mass, moderate pericardial effusion and he lost the ability to walk for a period of time as a side effect of his medications. He has undergone dozens of lumbar punctures, spinal chemotherapy injections, an unexpected thrombectomy for a blood clot in his heart, months of daily injections, bruising and complete hair loss, chemotherapy infusions, hospital stays and more lab draws than we can count. The trauma that we all feel as a result of what Cole has faced is something we are honestly still disassociated from. Unable to face while treatment is still ongoing. God has been so good to us through it all and showed His faithfulness. Cole achieved remission at the end of the 31 days of induction and he remains in remission at this time. Remission does not mean cured. I learned that quickly and have to remind others daily of that fact. He has made exceptional strides towards recovery and continued progress. His full treatment course from day 1 to complete is scheduled for 2.5 years. We have 4 months of chemotherapy, lumbar punctures and active treatment to go, pending no relapses or setbacks, we are hopeful for the first time in a long time. Our family has been forever changed. We have faced financial burdens, our plans to keep growing our family were abruptly ripped from us and we face daily sideways glances and nerves anytime Cole, or his siblings, complain of any little thing now. Fear that the Cancer is coming back or has snatched another of our children. We are acutely aware of the lack of funding and research that pediatric cancers receive. The insurmountable brokenness in our system that has no room for humanity and empathy in many cases. The world that will bleed pink in October, but no Gold to be seen in September outside the

childhood cancer circle. We have been shown the preciousness of life, preserving our time together and limiting the expenditure of energy on things that do not matter. Above all else, we have been shown the abundant goodness of our heavenly father through it all. Life will never be what it once was and neither will we. However, we believe that the testing of our faith does produce steadfastness. We will continue to move forward into whatever God has us called for His glory and share Cole’s story with anyone who will hear it.

Please keep the Rardin family in your prayers & make your plans to join us at Saturday, February 7,2026, in Florala, AL, at Lake Jackson where we’ll be “FREEZIN” for Cole & our other 4 February recipients.