LDL. “We’ll Have the Pictures, But Not the Answers”: Will Roberts’ Family Faces Scan Day—and the Hardest Part Is the Waiting

Tomorrow is scan day.

For most people, that phrase might sound routine—another appointment, another test, another item on the calendar. But for families living inside pediatric cancer, scan day carries a different weight. It is a doorway you have to walk through even when you don’t want to. It is the moment you face the images that will quietly reveal what words haven’t yet confirmed.

And for Will Roberts’ family, the hardest part isn’t only the scan itself.

It’s what comes after.

“We’ll Have the Pictures… But Not the Answers”

Will’s loved ones shared that they’ll get the scan images tomorrow, but they won’t get the full interpretation right away. Their oncologist will not return until Monday, meaning the family will spend the next few days in a familiar limbo—one many families describe as its own kind of suffering.

It’s a uniquely cruel pause: you’ve done everything you can do, you’ve shown up, you’ve held your child’s hand, you’ve made it through the test—yet you still have to wait for the one thing you desperately need: clarity.

In that waiting space, minds can spiral. Every small symptom feels louder. Every hour feels longer. Every prayer becomes more urgent, not because faith is weak, but because love is so strong it can’t sit still.

The Waiting Is Its Own Battle

In their message, the family described the waiting as “its own kind of battle,” and anyone who has walked through cancer care recognizes that truth immediately.

Waiting is not passive. It’s not quiet. It is active endurance.

It’s watching your child sleep and wondering what tomorrow will bring. It’s checking your phone too often. It’s trying to live normally while your heart is braced for news. It’s moving through the day with a smile on the outside and a storm on the inside.

But even in this uncertainty, the family shared something that keeps them steady: Will’s courage.

“His Courage Breaks Me and Strengthens Me”

They wrote that Will walks into these moments with a bravery that does two things at once—it breaks them and strengthens them.

That’s the paradox of parenting a child who is fighting: you’re shattered by what they’ve had to face, and at the same time, you’re held up by the way they face it.

Will, they said, approaches scan day with a smile, with a kind of calm determination, and with “one good leg planted in faith.” It’s an image that captures his spirit perfectly: a child who has been through more than most adults could carry, still choosing hope.

If Will can face the unknown with that kind of courage, his family believes they can face the waiting too—trusting that God is already present in the results, even before they hear them.

“Tonight My Heart Is Heavy… But Hopeful”

As scan day approaches, the family shared a simple truth: their hearts are heavy, but they are not hopeless.

They are asking for prayer—not just for “good news,” but for what comes before it:

• Peace that covers them
• Strength to get through the pause
• Steady faith in the waiting
• Good news on the other side

Because sometimes the miracle isn’t only in the outcome.

Sometimes it’s in making it through the waiting without losing your footing.

Marching Forth… Even Through the Unknown

They ended their message with the words that have become their mantra: Marching Forth—even through the unknown.

Not because they aren’t afraid.
Not because they have all the answers.
But because they refuse to stop moving forward.

Tomorrow brings the scan.

And then comes the waiting.

But tonight, they are choosing prayer over panic, hope over dread, and faith over fear—one breath at a time.

If you have a moment, please lift Will and his family in prayer as they walk into scan day and through the long weekend ahead. 🙏🤍