In the journey of a child’s battle with cancer, there are days that feel like a marathon through the deepest valleys of despair and the highest peaks of faith. Today was one of those days for Will’s family—a day where the roadmap failed, yet the destination ended in radiance, illuminated by the kind of love and peace that only faith can provide.
1. A Morning of Shattered Hearts
The day began not with the singing of birds or the ease of a holiday, but with a heart of lead. When you live in the world of pediatric cancer, waking up is an active struggle to find “the sunshine” amidst the heavy clouds of anxiety. This morning, a mother woke up with a vast, encroaching sadness, yet she chose to “hold on”—a deliberate decision not to be swept away by the current of grief.
Will’s pain reached a level that was no longer manageable at home, forcing Jason to take him to the Emergency Room (ER). For a child who has grown far too accustomed to hospital walls, every return to the ER is a confrontation with the fear of needles, scans, and the sterile scent of clinical intervention. While the immediate tests showed no new acute findings, the physical pain was agonizingly real, and it was taking a toll on the young warrior.
The most heart-wrenching moment did not come from a medical diagnosis, but from Will’s innocent, devastating question. As he began to point to different places on his body, he asked: “Is this a spot too, Mom? Because I think I can feel pain here.” In that moment, a mother’s heart completely collapses. How do you answer a child who is beginning to feel the internal invasion of his own body? That question wasn’t just about pain; it was the manifestation of a child’s awareness of his own battle.
2. The Presence of God Mid-Storm
While Will and Jason were navigating the clinical halls of the hospital, a spiritual oasis was being prepared. Instead of spending her afternoon in a state of frantic worry in a hospital waiting room, Will’s mother found herself immersed in a church service where the presence of God was tangible.
There, she watched her son, Charlie, be baptized. It was a powerful contrast of realities: on one side, the physical struggle of a body under siege (Will), and on the other, the spiritual rebirth of a soul through holy water (Charlie). In that moment, a supernatural peace washed over her, cleansing the tension and terror of the morning. It was a reminder that even when the world feels like it is falling apart, there is a larger plan in motion, and miracles are still happening in different forms.
3. The Choice of a Warrior
Typically, when a cancer patient experiences pain this severe, the safest option is hospital admission for aggressive intravenous pain management. But Will, possessed by a steely will and a desperate longing for normalcy, chose to come home. He hates the hospital—a place that represents isolation and cold procedures. He chose to face his pain on his familiar couch, within the warm embrace of his family.
When his mother offered to prepare her own bed for him to be more comfortable, Will refused. His response: “No. I want to lay on the couch and be with everyone,” contained a monumental spiritual strength. For Will, the best painkiller wasn’t morphine; it was the presence of his loved ones, the sound of friends talking, and the warmth of “normalcy.” He chose connection over comfort, and love over the solitude of a hospital bed.
4. Trusting the Planner, Not the Plan
Tonight, their home is overflowing with love. The presence of family and friends has turned their living room into a sanctuary of hope. Although tomorrow remains a gallery of unknowns—will radiation be a viable option? What do those new “pain spots” truly mean?—tonight, they choose to rest in faith.
The mother affirmed a powerful truth: “I don’t know God’s plans for us, but I trust Him.” This is the pinnacle of faith—not believing that things will go exactly your way, but believing that no matter what happens, you are loved and led. There is a profound difference between “knowing the plan” and “trusting the Planner.” Will’s family is choosing the latter. They know without a doubt that God is there, sitting between Will’s labored breaths and the laughter of the family in the living room.
5. The Grace of a Redeemed Day
Looking back at the full arc of this day, we see a complete circle of grace. A day that began in tears and desperation at the ER ended in peace and togetherness at home. This ending is a gift—a comfort for those who refused to give up hope even in their darkest hour.
We learn three vital lessons from Will’s family today:
- Vulnerability is Human: It is okay to wake up sad and feel broken.
- Sunshine is a Pursuit: We must actively “hold on” and look for God in every circumstance.
- The Power of Presence: Sometimes, just “being with everyone” is enough to heal the spirit when the body is failing.
Conclusion
Will is still fighting. The pain is still present. The questions about the new “spots” have not yet been answered. But tonight, Will is not in a cold, lonely hospital room. He is home. He is on the couch, surrounded by those who love him most.
Thank You, God, for guarding their minds. Thank You for bringing them back together under one roof. Let us continue to send our prayers for Will—praying for the pain to subside and for the oncology team to have divine wisdom regarding the radiation options tomorrow.
Today did not go as planned, but it ended in the most beautiful way possible: in the arms of love and the presence of the Almighty.
#WillStrong #FaithOverFear #MiracleAtHome #GodIsGood #FamilyUnity #PrayForWill #NewDayNewHope #TrustInGod
