Just as the next customer came up, Ethan felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He looked at the screen and let out a sigh. Here comes yet another notification regarding a medical bill. That morning, as he rushed through a cup of instant coffee, he caught sight of it—a harsh reminder that his mother’s regular trips to the hospital were pulling them further into financial trouble.

Ethan put in six days a week, frequently taking on double shifts, yet the scant pay barely managed to keep their little apartment from sinking. Clara, his mother, was getting worse, and while her treatments were necessary, they felt like a weight pulling them deeper into financial trouble.

By the time his shift wrapped up, Ethan felt completely exhausted. As he stepped into the chilly night air, his feet throbbed with ache, the burdens of the day weighing heavily on him. He walked slowly to the small, dimly lit apartment he shared with Clara. As he opened the door, it creaked, and he found her sitting on the couch, her delicate figure wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey, Mom,” Ethan said gently, placing his bag on the table.

Clara gave a slight smile. “How was your day at work, sweetheart?”

“It was fine,” he said, making an effort to hide the weariness in his tone.

“Take it easy on yourself, Ethan.” <text”I really dislike watching you handle all of this by yourself.”

Ethan gulped, struggling to hide the heavy burden he carried inside. “It’s really nothing, Mom.” I’ve got this handled.

She nodded, but they both understood the reality of the situation. Ethan made his way back to his room, where a towering pile of unopened envelopes loomed on his desk—bills he was reluctant to confront. He lingered by the window, reflecting on his life.

How did it get so costly just to make ends meet? He pondered. Despite having insurance, the bills piled up quicker than he could manage to gather the funds. He reflected on the small amount of savings he had remaining, just enough to manage next month’s rent, but not nearly enough to tackle the ongoing hospital bills.

He noticed a dusty box sitting in the corner of the room. Inside, an old Bible had remained untouched for years. Thoughts of his beloved grandmother, Margaret, flooded his mind.

“You really had to be so stubborn, didn’t you, Grandma?” Ethan shook his head and muttered under his breath.

Margaret was the heart of the family—always reliable, deeply devoted, and resolute in her beliefs. Throughout his teenage years, she consistently encouraged Ethan to accompany her to church every Sunday, but he never paid her any mind. The memory of their last argument lingered in his mind, clear and sharp, as if it had just happened yesterday.

Six years had passed since then.

Ethan had just hit the big 1-8, and he was all about soaking up a fun, laid-back weekend with his buddies. He definitely wasn’t planning to spend another Sunday morning in church.

 

“Michael,” Margaret called out firmly, her figure framed in the doorway of his room. She clutched her large purse firmly, the Bible nestled under her arm, looking sharp in her Sunday best. “It’s time to head to church.”

Ethan was completely absorbed in his phone, not bothering to glance up. “I’m not going, Grandma.” I’ve got plans already.

“Got any plans?” Margaret’s voice had grown louder. “What could possibly be more important than spending time with the Lord?”

“I’m 18 now,” he replied, his frustration clear in his voice. I have the ability to make my own choices. I refuse to spend another Sunday cooped up in church, listening to sermons.

That’s ridiculous. “Get up, put on a clean shirt, and come with me,” Margaret insisted, entering the room with an air of determination, as if she might just pull him out herself.

No! I’m not going! Ethan had lost it. Why can’t you just allow me to live my life? I’m really frustrated with how you treat me, as if I’m the worst person ever just because I don’t want to spend all day in church.