2S. Will’s prayer before his bone cancer scan, made by 14-year-old Will, has touched the hearts of many online.

Tomorrow is a big day for us. It’s Will’s scan day.

The last scans showed his cancer had spread almost everywhere in his little body. We’re on a chemo pill now, and our prayer has been simple and desperate all at once—that it has stopped the progression. It won’t kill it, but right now I am pleading with God to just stop the spread.

Every single day, I pray the same words:

“Thank You, God, for healing Will and destroying every cancer cell in his body.”

I refuse to speak anything other than full healing, because I know my God is BIGGER than anything that stands against it.

Today was long. Longer than expected. I worked late, left frustrated for personal reasons, and didn’t even have time to change clothes. I drove straight to church and walked in thirty minutes late, still in uniform, already feeling out of place.

At the end of the service, Will leaned over and said,

“Mom, I’m going to go up to the altar and pray.”

I followed behind him and Jason.

As I laid my hands on his back and began to pray, something in me softened. And instead of praying for my own son—my heart, my fear, my plea—I prayed for another mama’s son. A name I never expected to flow from my mouth in a church setting… a name that, in my human weakness, has too often been followed by words I won’t repeat inside a church house.

But God.

As my hand rested on Will’s back, my heart broke open. I know my son is covered in prayer—by family, friends, and strangers who love him fiercely. But what about the mama who is just as afraid for her son’s future, whose worries look different than an active disease, but hurt just as deeply?

Tears streamed down my face as shame settled in my chest—not shame meant to condemn me, but the kind that convicts and humbles. Another family is facing heartache too. Some might say they brought it on themselves. But to judge them made me no better than those who mocked, spat on, and tortured the One who hung on a cross for all of us.

God softened my heart tonight.

I know my son is loved. I know he feels it. So tonight, I prayed for another mama’s son—whose name may not be spoken with the same tenderness as mine but yet he is suffering too. God let him feel loved.

Thank you, God, for grace; for forgiveness; for love.

Thank you for reeling me back in when my human side wants to harden my heart. Thank you for guiding me to be Christ-like even when it’s difficult.

Tomorrow we face scans.

Tonight God reminded me who I am called to be….sometimes that is hard.