Middle School | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Middle School | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ellen Janson
01/22/26
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Will stormed to his room mumbling along the way about lots of homework, and shut the door with authority. His mother, Karen, tended to his younger brothers, helping them with snacks, talking to them about homework, and quickly going over the schedule for that evening. She then timidly approached Will’s bedroom to see what was going on with her twelve-year-old son.

“Hey, bud, how’s it going?”
“Fine.”
“Did something happen at school today?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? It seems like you’re kindof upset.”
“Yep.”
“OK. Well you have a baseball game tonight at 7. I washed your gray baseball pants…they’re in the dryer. Do you have a lot of homework?”
“Nope.”
“OK….”

“Mom!” one of Will’s younger brothers was yelling from downstairs, “Tommy’s saying that our team is going to lose tonight!”
Karen felt a fight brewing at the same time she felt maybe she should give Will a little space. As she headed toward the chaos, there was a pit in her stomach. Will was getting older; she and his father would no longer be able to kiss all of life’s problems away, and cover them with a band aid.

The family spent the evening at the local baseball field with four boys playing in three different leagues. Karen ran from field to field trying to catch as much of each game as humanly possible. The younger boys were so proud of how they’d played, but Will was quiet.

In the parking lot, Karen steered the others to her husband’s car; she would take Will and try to get a few minutes with him alone.
“That was a good win, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t play great.”
“Really? I saw you strike a few players out.”
“They were easy at bats.”
“Oh. OK. I thought you hit well too.”
“Yeah. Their pitcher stunk. He was easy to hit off of.”
Karen could feel the despair radiating off her son. This was about more than baseball.
“Will, are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired,” he said, crossing his arms while turning his whole body toward the passenger window.
Tired of what, she thought.

Later, as Karen approached Will’s room to say “good night”, she whispered,
“Lord, please give me the words to help my precious son.”
Will was already in bed. Karen sat on the edge.
“Hey, bud, is there anything I can do to help?”
It was like a pin to a balloon; the floodgates opened. There was a boy, Ben, who had been bullying Will at school. Many of the other boys, who he thought were his friends, had joined in. There was a party…he hadn’t been invited.

When Will stopped for a breath, Karen hugged her son and told him how sorry she was that he was hurting. After much conversation, strategies for handling the situation, etc., Karen asked him if they could pray for Ben.
“Don’t let him make this about you, Will,” she told him. “Sometimes when people are hurting, they take it out on others. It doesn’t make what Ben is doing right, and it doesn’t mean you should allow him to mistreat you. But something is going on in Ben’s world, and you just happen to be his target. Maybe let’s try to extend him a little mercy.”
All cried out, Will reluctantly agreed. Karen left his room with a broken heart.

Summer blessedly came, like a sweet balm to Will’s entire being. He was busy with baseball and vacations. He spent so much time with his brothers and neighborhood kids that he practically forgot about Ben. He was back to his sweet, chatty self again.

As the school year approached, Karen began to brace herself. But by the third week of seventh of grade, Will hadn’t even mentioned Ben, when Karen spotted him walking across the parking lot. His shoulders were slumped and he was all by himself.

That night when she went to say “good night” to Will, she asked him about Ben.
“Yeah. He’s different.”
”What do you mean?”
”He’s just really quiet. He seems kindof sad. I heard his parents got a divorce over the summer, and now he lives with his dad sometimes and his mom other times. Sometimes even with his grandma.”

Karen reminded Will of all their conversations the previous school year, and how they had been praying for Ben.
“Yeah. I feel really bad for him, mom.”
Wow! Her son had learned the true meaning of mercy. Karen marveled at her God (again).

This is a true story.

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