THE THING

David Bruce Linn

Rochester, New York

7 December, 2004

Brandon pressed his nose up against the chill store window until it hurt. The Thing glinted in the cold winter sun reflecting an odd purplish-bluish hue. As he stared, hardly blinking, his heart yearned for it with an intensity he could not explain. Why did he want the Thing so badly? He could not explain it, and the only thing standing in the way was the little white and black price tag. Out of reach--for now.

Brandon trudged down the icy sidewalk to Grandma’s house. “Come right home after school,” she had said. “Watch out for those boys--you know the ones I mean. And keep your scarf wrapped tight. After all, this is Minnesota!” But perhaps the words he remembered most were the ones she said last as he left for school every day. She would hug him right through his bundle of warm clothing--practically smothering him--and say: “I love you Brandon, and God loves you, too.” And off he would go.

As he made his way up the gray-painted back steps he thought, Living at Grandma’s isn’t so bad--except that he cried himself to sleep every night. Grandpa had gone the year before. Brandon didn’t really understand why he had to go. Mom and Dad had said that his heart just stopped. Can that happen to anyone? he had thought, filled with a vague fear that life could just leave without warning. He twisted the back door knob. Before it swung half open Grandma pulled it all the way open and grabbed him up in a bear hug.

“How was school?” she cried with a cheery voice. “What took you so long to get home? Are you hungry?”

Brandon tried to shoot answers back but the questions just came too fast. Grandma always asked the same things. He knew the best question of all was still coming: “Would you like some milk and cookies?”

“Yes, please.” Each day Brandon would eat, play a while, and then supper would begin. The table always seemed strangely empty. No Grandpa, and no Mom or Dad. Grandma would usually play some music while they were eating. She had never done it before, but now there was always some happy thing playing on the old record player. And there were days when the music wasn’t enough. He could always tell when it would be a TV day by Grandma’s face when he came home from school. On those days she would give the television in the living room a twist so they could see it from the kitchen table. Those were the bad days.

After dinner Brandon would do his schoolwork with Grandma’s help, they would watch a little more TV, and then it was off to bed. Brandon dreaded that moment. In spite of everything Grandma had done, he felt alone. He thought of his mother and father every single night. First Grandpa had gone, and he couldn’t understand why. Then, just a few months ago, had come the night that would change everything. Mom and Dad had gone out for a special evening, and Grandma had come to watch him. The police came. With very sad faces they stood by the front door. “There has been a terrible accident,” they said. Then there was a long pause. “There’s no easy way to say this, but Mr. and Mrs. Cornwell, they uh…they didn’t make it.” Brandon had no idea what this meant, but the policemen left, and Grandma had sat down with him on the couch and explained: “Mom and Dad are…gone. They can’t come back--ever.” And Grandma wept and wept, squeezing him so hard and so long he thought he would never breathe again.

And now it was just him and her--and the Thing. Brandon would think about the Thing as he lay in his bed every night to keep from thinking about Mom and Dad. It almost worked, but an aching, crushing sense of pain and loss would always come, and he would cry until he fell asleep.

Even at school, when thoughts of Mom and Dad came into his head he would try to think about the Thing. Every day he saved his milk money for it. He saved his weekly allowance. It seemed like it would never be enough to buy it. And every day after school he would go and stare into the store window before going home.

Finally, the pile of dimes, nickels, and quarters seemed like it would be big enough to buy the Thing. He put them all in a sock, and on the way home from school he went inside. “Sir, I would like to buy the…uh, the thing…in the window." He ran to the window and pointed. Brandon’s heart pounded as the shopkeeper set it on the counter. “Is this enough?” Brandon almost shouted with excitement as dumped the change on the counter with a ching and coins went rolling everywhere.

The shopkeeper removed his reading glasses and gazed at him for a moment. “You’re Brandon, aren’t you? I know your grandmother.” Another pause. “Yep, looks like just the right amount.”

Brandon’s heart soared as he skipped home with the Thing. He opened the back door and went into the kitchen. “I’m in the living room!” Grandma called out. Without even taking off his boots, he clomped into the room where Grandma was sitting on the couch in front of a large cardboard box. Her hands were wrapped in a long strand of silvery Christmas tree garland she was untangling.

Brandon threw himself at her and gave her a bear hug. “Merry Christmas, Grandma!” He almost shouted as he handed her the small box. “It’s the Thing! The thing you wanted! I got it!” Grandma looked at Brandon with tears welling up in her eyes. Without a word she opened the box and carefully unwrapped a gleaming hand-blown glass bird, glinting a purplish-bluish hue in the winter sunlight which streamed through the living room window.

By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another (1 John 4:9-11). But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name (John 1:12 -- NASB).