Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller Dear Grandma: You’re probably looking for my annual Christmas letter to you. Practice for the Christmas program at church started three weeks ago. That’s about when Christmas starts for me. Noah didn’t have a part. He just had to sing four songs with the other third and fourth graders. But that was more than enough. It wouldn’t be cool for a 10-year-old to admit that singing was fun. Noah and Grandma Schnick.  David wrote lots of letters to Grandma when she was alive, and didn't stop after she passed. But his actions said something else. Like when he warmed up in the car going to church on Sunday by making up a song. It was something about a missing cat. Mollie joined in at the end of each verse, and harmonized on the chorus. Cindy and I had big grins in the front seat. It was a great song! We didn’t dare interrupt them, being from the   Land of Bland   and all. Mollie had a long part, but she didn’t have to memorize it,...

David Heiller We stood at the back of the church, hand in hand. A sca tt ering of people spread through the back pews on the le ft hand side, our side. The very back pew sat vacant, but nobody sits in the very back pew of a church. It’s bad manners. So hand in hand, we stepped forward one pew, two pews, three pews, breaking new ground as we progressed six pews up, the fa rt hest ever for us. No more hiding in the back of the church. The sixth pew challenged us, and we took it up like soldiers of the cross, marching as to war. Α solitary figure satin the sixth pew, as we slid in beside her. I recognized Mardy Youngberg. She smiled at us. I nodded back and gulped. Here was the test, the sixth pew, all those people behind us taking notes, and Mardy Youngberg at our side. Ι could just read her column of Bremen News in this week’s American: Α mild uproar occurred last Sunday at Faith Lutheran Church as David Heiller and his… A tiny voice interrupted my thoughts. “I want t...