From Promise to Purpose: Finding Gratitude and Hope in Every Step

When I started the World Change Coalition, I had no idea how many people would become part of this. At the beginning, it was just a promise and a dream. The promise I made to my mom in the quiet moments with her before she was gone, wrapped up in the kind of love you only understand when you've watched someone on the cancer journey for more than two decades.

Most people know the World Change Coalition grew from my mom's journey with breast cancer. From her resilience, her terrible jokes during chemo, and the lessons she left behind. But what a lot of people don't realize is that this organization has just as much to do with what came after. The community that showed up. The strangers who became supporters. The hope that exists even when everything feels impossible.

Looking at where we are now, I'm not overwhelmed by what we've accomplished. I'm overwhelmed by how much people care.

The Wins That Actually Matter

We live in a world obsessed with big, flashy wins. But that's not what moves me anymore.

What moves me is the conversation that changes someone's understanding. The story that makes someone feel less alone. The early detection that happens because someone finally got screened. The survivor who sees themselves reflected positively in someone else's journey.

Those are the wins that matter.

Whether it's through Cathy's Jeans, our blog, or the partnerships we've built, the World Change Coalition has always been about connection. Wearing denim for a cause is powerful, not because of the jeans themselves, but because of what they represent. Awareness, solidarity and a reminder that none of us are doing this alone.

Cathy's Jeans also became how we fund this work. Instead of constant fundraising campaigns, we built something simple: a portion of every pair purchased goes toward providing wigs for women dealing with hair loss during treatment. It's not complicated. But it's personal. We're turning something ordinary into dignity and comfort when everything else feels completely out of control.

Stories That Keep Us Going

Through this platform, I've heard stories from survivors, caregivers, friends, families. Some arrive wrapped in grief. Others in celebration. Most land somewhere in the messy middle. No two journeys are the same, but the threads of strength, fear, love, and stubborn resilience. Those are always there.

Every time someone reaches out—even just to say, "I went through this" or "My sister is fighting now" or "Thank you for talking about this"—I'm reminded that awareness isn't some abstract concept. It has a face. A heartbeat. Sometimes a scar. Always a family behind it.

Those stories fuel this more than any marketing strategy ever could. They remind me that change doesn't always come with applause. Sometimes it's just a single conversation. A difficult appointment. A friend who insists you get screened. A survivor teaching someone else how to advocate.

That's where the world changes. Not all at once. Action by action. Piece by piece.

To Everyone Who Made This Possible

None of this exists without you. I mean that.

To the survivors who shared their stories, your courage and honesty mean everything.

To the families and caregivers, thank you for the invisible sacrifices. The late-night research. The complicated emotions. The love that holds it all together.

To the supporters who wear Cathy's Jeans denim, share posts, donate, or just talk about breast cancer in real, human ways, thank you for choosing to engage instead of looking away.

To the medical professionals, researchers, advocates, and educators pushing for better prevention, detection, and treatment, thank you for the work that saves lives.

To the early believers when this was barely more than a promise and a website, you carried us further than you know.

And Mom, thank you for showing me what hope looks like even when you were frustrated and exhausted. Thank you for teaching me that compassion isn't weakness and that gratitude is its own kind of strength.

What's Next

People ask what's next for the World Change Coalition all the time. The honest answer? Our future isn't built on one big initiative. It's built on a way of seeing the world.  We have new ideas that will roll out in 2026.

A worldview that says awareness should be loud. Treatment should be accessible. No one should navigate cancer alone. And compassion isn't optional if we actually want to change anything.

We'll keep expanding our reach, partnering with communities, opening conversations, and creating real ways for people to get involved. But the core mission stays the same:

Honor the journey. Fuel awareness. Champion resilience. Spread hope.

If You're Reading This

Whether you've been here from day one or you just found us this week, I want you to know something:

Change rarely feels like change while it's happening. It feels like small steps. Long nights. Fragile wins. Conversations that seem too ordinary to matter.

But they do matter.

They matter in living rooms and hospitals. In survivor groups and research labs. In families who catch cancer earlier than they would have. In daughters, sons, parents, and partners who refuse to give up on each other.

We're not just changing the world. We're changing someone's world. And honestly, sometimes that's more important.

Thank you for walking with us. Thank you for believing compassion has power. Thank

you for being part of this.

Mom, the best is yet to come.  As always. Love you.  Richie