When your baby boy is hurting — when the pain is so heavy it forces him to leave a place he never would have chosen to leave — the drive home becomes something sacred.
It becomes a prayer.
That was the moment Will’s mom found herself in, driving home with a heart aching and a single request whispered over and over to God: Please stop the pain.
Then, just before they reached home, Will spoke.
“Mom, I’m finally relaxed,” he said quietly.
“Can we stop and get Rebel and just ride for a little while and listen to Christian music?”
So they did.
Before long, the car was full — Will, his parents Jason and Brittney, his sister Charlie, their friends, and both dogs, all piled in together. Windows down. Hearts open. And the sound of Brandon Lake filling the air as they cruised the roads, letting worship replace worry, if only for a little while.
It wasn’t just a car ride.
It was a moment of relief.
A moment of peace.
A reminder that even in the middle of relentless pain, God still shows up in unexpected ways.
As the music played, Brittney’s prayer shifted — from desperation to hope.
“God, please keep this pain away,” she prayed, “so we can have a beautiful Sunday service — one where Will and Charlie can be baptized together, on the same day.”
Two siblings.
One faith.
One powerful moment the family is clinging to with everything they have.
Gratitude filled the rest of the prayer — for the friends who gave up their weekend just to sit with Will and Charlie, to laugh with them, to remind them they are not alone. For companionship. For love. For normal moments that feel anything but ordinary in the world of childhood cancer.
And above all, one final plea rose from a mother’s heart:
“Please, God… release the pain from Will’s body.”
In that car, surrounded by faith, family, friends, and music, hope wasn’t loud or flashy.
It was quiet.
It was gentle.
And it was real.
Sometimes miracles don’t look like answers yet — sometimes they look like a peaceful drive, a favorite song, a smile returning to a tired child, and the strength to believe tomorrow still holds something beautiful.
And for this family, that is enough to keep going. 🙏
