The Binder
Sep 12, 2026 · 22 min · 10 segments
After a year of being told to wait, Brother Thompson asks Dad and Pastor Garrett one more time — and this time the answer is yes. Allison Jones, eleven years old and the finest organizer in the…
Sep 12, 2026 · 22 min · 10 segments
After a year of being told to wait, Brother Thompson asks Dad and Pastor Garrett one more time — and this time the answer is yes. Allison Jones, eleven years old and the finest organizer in the…
Brother Thompson had asked once before and been told to wait.
That had been better than a year ago, and he had taken it the way he takes most things, without any argument in him at all.
Dad had explained it kindly, and Pastor Garrett had explained it kindly, and what they had both said in different words was that he was still new in the Lord and that a thing done right is worth waiting for.
And Brother Thompson had said yes, sir, and gone home and waited.
A whole year of Wednesdays and Sundays.
He never once brought it up again.
He waited the way a plain man waits, which is mostly by showing up.
He was there on Wednesdays when it rained.
He carried the folding chairs in and carried the folding chairs out.
He learned a second verse and then a third, slowly, the way he does everything, with Sister Beverly sitting a respectful two feet away in the Thames Hall, going over them with him.
Anybody watching that year could have told you where it was heading.
Nobody rushed it.
That was the whole point.
So when he asked the second time, on a Wednesday night in the pastor's office, he had his hat in his hands and he did not
look particularly hopeful.
Dad was there.
Brother Thompson,
I believe it's time.
Dad said afterward that the man did not say anything for a good while and that when he finally did, all he said was, all right, three times in three different voices.
Brother Thompson had asked once before and been told to wait.
That had been better than a year ago, and he had taken it the way he takes most things, without any argument in him at all.
Dad had explained it kindly, and Pastor Garrett had explained it kindly, and what they had both said in different words was that he was still new in the Lord and that a thing done right is worth waiting for.
And Brother Thompson had said yes, sir, and gone home and waited.
A whole year of Wednesdays and Sundays.
He never once brought it up again.
He waited the way a plain man waits, which is mostly by showing up.
He was there on Wednesdays when it rained.
He carried the folding chairs in and carried the folding chairs out.
He learned a second verse and then a third, slowly, the way he does everything, with Sister Beverly sitting a respectful two feet away in the Thames Hall, going over them with him.
Anybody watching that year could have told you where it was heading.
Nobody rushed it.
That was the whole point.
So when he asked the second time, on a Wednesday night in the pastor's office, he had his hat in his hands and he did not
look particularly hopeful.
Dad was there.
Brother Thompson,
I believe it's time.
Dad said afterward that the man did not say anything for a good while and that when he finally did, all he said was, all right, three times in three different voices.
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