By Geneviève Wetzel
Have you ever walked through something that changed you before you were ready—something that quietly reshaped the way you see the world? I have. For a long time, I didn’t fully understand what our family was walking through—I just knew that life, as I had known it, had begun to shift in ways I couldn’t quite explain.
I was ten years old when my dad was diagnosed with cancer, though at the time, it didn’t feel like one defining moment. It came slowly, in pieces. In the way our routines changed. In the quiet weight that settled into our days. In the growing awareness that something important was happening, even if I didn’t yet have the words for it.
Our lives began to revolve around appointments, treatments, and time spent away from home. Some of those journeys took us farther than we expected, to places where my dad could receive the care he needed. This is when our family was introduced to Pilots for Patients, a nonprofit organization that flies critically ill patients to treatment centers at no cost. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers who stepped in at the time we needed it most. Their quiet generosity moved me. That and the feeling that even in a season filled with uncertainty, we were being carried by something steady and good.
Even then, something in me began to change. At first, my questions sounded like this: What is happening? Why is this happening? But over time, almost without realizing it, those questions began to shift. I found myself asking something different—What can I do with what is happening? That question became my calling.
It shaped the way I understood my story, my faith, and the way I wanted to show up for others. I began to see that even in the hardest seasons, there is a way to create something meaningful—something that reaches beyond your own experience and reminds someone else that they are not alone. And I wasn’t walking through it alone, either. My brother, Vaughn, and I faced those years side by side. We learned how to talk about things that were hard, how to encourage one another, and how to find comfort in simply being together. In that space, I began to understand something else—that there were so many other children navigating similar fears, trying to make sense of something heavy at a young age.
That realization changed everything for me. It became clear that my hardships did not have to define me—but how I responded to them could. And if that was true, then maybe my story could become something more than what I had endured. Maybe it could help someone else. That is where writing began. What started as thoughts and feelings slowly found their way onto paper—first as words, then sentences, and eventually stories. Those stories became Together We Will Be, a book written from the heart of a sixteen-year-old girl who wanted to make a difference, but who was really writing for the ten-year-old version of herself—the one who was still trying to understand it all. I wanted it to feel comforting and accessible, so I wrote it in rhyme. There is something about rhythm and simplicity that makes hard things feel just a little more manageable.
The process was deeply personal—and, in many ways, healing. It also revealed something about me that I hadn’t fully recognized before: I am someone who feels deeply, reflects often, and carries my younger self with me in everything I do.
Of course, none of this happened on my own. My parents have been my foundation through it all. They gave me the space to feel, the strength to keep going, and the encouragement to turn something difficult into something meaningful. My mom is my biggest cheerleader. She is creative, loving, and resilient in ways I continue to admire. She always tells me, “Do better than me,” and she means it in the most selfless way. She has stood beside me in every dream I’ve pursued. And my dad has always told me to “aim for the moon.” So I have.
That mindset has shaped the way I approach everything. When I commit to something, I give it my whole heart. And now, I try to extend that same encouragement to others—to meet them where they are, to walk with them through hard moments, and to remind them that they are not alone.
As I began sharing, Together We Will Be in schools, I noticed something important. While many students connected with the message, the youngest children sometimes needed something simpler—something that spoke to their everyday experiences. So I wrote a second book, That’s What Friends Do, created especially for them, because at the heart of everything I do is connection.
Through my involvement in the Miss America Opportunity, I’ve been given the chance to share that message with even more people. The crown and sash may open doors, but what truly matters is what happens once I step inside. Some of the most meaningful moments have come when someone hears my story and sees themselves in it. I’ve cried alongside students and teachers who understand this kind of pain. Those moments are both heartbreaking and beautiful—and they remind me why I do this. Pageantry has helped me find my voice, but it has also taught me that success isn’t about titles—it’s about connection.
Being in a position to reach others—especially young women walking through difficult seasons—means everything to me. Whether I’m speaking to elementary students, high schoolers, or even residents in a senior living community, my message remains the same: you are not alone, and you are stronger than you think.
Looking ahead, I am honored to attend The University of Texas at Austin, where I plan to study Communication and Leadership. I want to continue learning how to share messages in ways that inspire and empower others. Everything I do is bigger than me—it’s about serving others well and making an impact. I feel a responsibility to reach back and encourage others who may be walking through their own difficult seasons.
If I could speak directly to another girl facing loss or fear, I would tell her to feel everything. Don’t rush the process. Walk through the pain. And when you come out on the other side, remember—you have done something incredibly hard, and you are still here. You are not alone. Those are the words that carried me through. Those are the words that continue to speak to me. Those are the words I want to share with you.
Geneviève is a recent graduate of Neville High School, and she’s planning to attend The University of Texas at Austin in the fall. Copies of her books are available for purchase on Amazon, and proceeds are donated to organizations that support children and families experiencing challenges.
To purchase a copy of Together We Will Be and That’s What Friends Do, click here.