By the time the radiation machine began to hum, Brittney Roberts had already said her prayer.
“God, please zap these cancer spots. Radiate every negative cell. Give Will the miracle only You can give… cancer free.”
It wasn’t a long prayer. It didn’t ask for wealth, comfort, or even certainty. It asked for one thing — her son.
Fourteen-year-old Will Roberts of Ralph, Alabama, is fighting the toughest battle of his young life: an aggressive form of bone cancer that has already taken his left leg and now threatens to take even more. As Christmas approaches, the Roberts family is living in a place no family ever wants to be — suspended between hope and heartbreak.
Will was once a typical Southern boy who loved fishing, the outdoors, and dreaming about the day he’d own a professional bass boat. But cancer has changed everything. What started as pain in his leg became a devastating diagnosis that quickly escalated into surgeries, chemotherapy, and eventually amputation. His left leg was removed in an attempt to save his life.
It didn’t stop the cancer.
Now, doctors are monitoring new spots that have appeared elsewhere in his body — silent, dangerous reminders that this disease is still fighting back. Each scan brings a new wave of anxiety. Each appointment carries the weight of what might be found.
For Brittney and her husband Jason, the emotional toll is overwhelming.
“You don’t ever get used to this,” Brittney said quietly. “You don’t get stronger. You just keep going because your child needs you.”
This week, that strength was tested again.
Will suddenly developed intense chest and back pain while at home. He had told his family he would come downstairs later to watch a movie, but instead he called out for help, telling his mother he felt weak. When Brittney reached him, Will was crying, unable to stand, and clearly in distress. He was rushed for medical care, igniting fresh fears that the cancer might be spreading or that his body was under attack from yet another complication.
Moments like this have become all too familiar.
“Every time something happens, your heart just drops,” Brittney said. “You wonder, is this it? Is this the thing we can’t fix?”
Yet, in the midst of fear, this family continues to cling to faith.
Brittney describes herself as someone who once struggled to accept help. But cancer has a way of stripping away pride. Friends, churches, and organizations across the country have stepped in to support Will — not just financially, but emotionally and spiritually.
One of those groups, National Kidz Outdoors, came together with professional bass fishermen and outdoor organizations to make Will’s dream come true: a brand-new bass boat, a gift meant to give him something to look forward to in a life suddenly dominated by hospitals and treatment rooms.
When doctors learned how much the cancer had spread, Jason asked if the gift could be delivered sooner. Time, after all, no longer felt like something they could count on.
Although the fundraiser initially came up short, the Roberts family quietly stepped in to cover the rest — not because they wanted to, but because love for their son demanded it.
“We never asked for anything,” Brittney said. “People gave because they wanted to. That’s what makes it so beautiful.”
But even joy now comes with sorrow.
The boat will arrive. The smiles will come. Yet the looming question remains: how much time does Will have to enjoy it?
Doctors have been honest but cautious. Radiation is now focused on the cancer spots that threaten to spread further. Every session is both a weapon and a waiting game.
Will knows what’s at stake.
He doesn’t talk much about his fear, but Brittney sees it in his eyes. She sees it when he grips her hand before treatment. She hears it in his voice when he asks if he’s going to be okay.
“I always tell him we’re going to keep fighting,” she said. “And we are. But sometimes, when he’s asleep, I just cry.”
This Christmas will look nothing like the ones before.
There will be no big plans. No loud celebrations. Just hospital rooms, prayer circles, and a family holding each other tightly, hoping for a miracle that medicine alone cannot provide.
“This year, we’re not asking for presents,” Brittney said. “We’re asking God to let our son live.”
Across social media, Will’s story has touched thousands. Messages of love, prayers, and encouragement continue to pour in from strangers who have never met him but feel deeply connected to his fight.
To Brittney, every prayer matters.
“Even if you don’t know us, you can help us,” she said. “Just pray. Pray hard. Pray for healing. Pray that God hears us.”
And so, as radiation continues and scans loom ahead, one thing remains unshaken: a mother’s hope.
Brittney stands outside the treatment room every day, whispering the same words she spoke when this nightmare began.
“God, please save my son.”
For Will Roberts, for his family, and for everyone watching this fight unfold, that prayer is now the heartbeat of Christmas.
