On the afternoon of Thursday, August 21, just a few minutes shy of 3 p.m., a man knocked on the door to the Stuart Hall Road entrance to our Sanctuary.
Our head building caretaker responded to the knock.
When he opened the door, this stranger said he wanted a pastor to pray for him.
Our building caretaker walked the stranger toward the church office.
Once there, our assistant pastor met with the stranger.
The request for prayer quickly shifted to a financial need to cover the cost of car insurance.
When our assistant pastor asked some basic questions about the car insurance, the stranger became belligerent and indignant. Displeased, he responded by cursing our assistant.
With this abusive language, the stranger was asked to leave the building. He was escorted out by our assistant and another staff member.
This pretense of prayer reminded me of an episode of The Andy Griffith Show titled “A Black Day For Mayberry.” The story is about a shipment of gold that is scheduled to go through Mayberry on its way to Fort Knox.
Of course, Mayberry’s biggest blabber mouth, Deputy Barney Fife, lets it slip out that a shipment of gold is on the way. This creates havoc among the citizens of Mayberry. They create an unwanted welcoming for the gold truck and its personnel.
Through a series of bungled assumptions by Deputy Fife, and his recently deputized associate bungler Gomer Pyle, we learn that the truck going through Mayberry was a decoy. The truck carrying the gold went a different route.
When Sheriff Taylor, Deputy Fife, and Deputy Pyle learn this, Deputy Pyle exclaims: “Shazam, a decoy.”
On Thursday afternoon, when I learned of our prayer seeking intruder, I felt like shouting: “Shazam, a prayer decoy.”
Yet, deep inside of me, I was angry, infuriated. Perhaps, I was just as angry as our prayer seeker when he learned that no financial assistance was to be provided because his prayer decoy plot had failed.
When I spoke further with our assistant about this stranger, turns out he wasn’t unknown to Trinity. In fact, I have his name on my prayer list.
In the past, with random infrequency, this person has shown up at Trinity seeking assistance. However, this was the first time that his interaction with church personnel was unacceptable.
One of the wristbands on my right arm says—“be kind.”
I wonder if Jesus would have been “kind” to our prayer seeker?
Might Jesus have confronted the prayer seeker by physically flipping him over like he did the tables in the temple?
Situations like this continue to erode what little Christianity I have left.
I wonder how the prayer seeker is wired?
How can a person falsely request prayer, immediately switch to ask for financial assistance, and seconds later become verbally abusive when asked reasonable, clarifying questions?
I wonder if he had worked his way down Forest Avenue stopping at each church trying the same prayer decoy?
But what I really want to know is what in the person’s lifetime put him in this position?
What is even more aggravating is I’ve been praying for this guy for years, and it appears that my prayers haven’t changed his behavior.
Maybe, I’m the problem.
Maybe, I’m a lousy prayer.
And to be even more truthful, this prayer deceit really bothered me because everyday, I’m praying for people who are in life or death situations with cancer, families who are providing care for loved ones with dementia, friends of our family who have children whose personal lives have fallen apart, and lifelong friends and co-workers whose hearts are forever crushed after tragically losing a daughter or son.
I can make this even more complicated by thinking about Hebrews 13:2: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
I’m sorry God, but I fail to see any angelic traits from the prayer decoy schemer.
I look forward to the arrival of the magazine The Week in our mail. I always read the Wit and Wisdom section. This section features quotes from a wide variety of mostly famous people.
In the September 5-12 edition, I came across this quote from American writer, James Baldwin: “The reason I will never hate anybody again is that it’s too demeaning a confession on your part if you need to hate somebody. It means you are afraid of the other thing, which is to love and be loved.”
Mr. Baldwin is correct.
I strongly dislike the method of the prayer decoy seeker.
Because of this tactic, I am afraid, unable to love the prayer decoy seeker.
On the evening of Monday, September 1, 2025, my wife and I went with neighbors to the James Taylor concert at the Allianz Amphitheater At Riverfront. This new outdoor concert venue is on the banks of the James River.
A few days prior to the concert, our neighbors did a reconnaissance drive to check out parking options and the walking distance to the entrance.
Additionally, a day before the event, my wife received a courtesy email stating the concert was sold out. Arriving early was recommended.
The reconnaissance for the parking was smart. We parked in a lot within reasonable walking distance to the amphitheater. Additionally, the price for parking was acceptable.
It was a bit after six when we finished up at the parking lot and started our walk to the entrance. What we didn’t expect was the long, long line of people waiting to enter the amphitheater.
Richmond police officers did good work monitoring pedestrian and vehicle traffic at the intersection of Second and Byrd. That long, long line worked its way up a very steep hill along Byrd Street well past the Afton Chemical Corporation.
For a person with worn-out legs, challenges with their cardiovascular system, or wheelchair dependency getting up this hill was a challenge.
At some point the line started to move. The movement toward the entrance was slow, but steady. We cleared the security checkpoint, and the next challenge was finding a space on the lawn for us to sit.
We found a spot, but then we relocated. We relocated to the back of the lawn area. A fence runs the length of the lawn. We had two chairs reserved for seating. Our thinking was the fence would be like the back of a chair while sitting on blanket.
Again, the line to pickup our two chairs was long. We tolerated the wait time. Good news, the chairs were sturdy and comfortable.
When we relocated to the fence, the chair line was directly in front of us. Numerous people came to the chair line not realizing that a reservation had to be made to secure a chair. Just before the concert started, another problem surfaced. Apparently, the supply of chairs for people who had made a chair reservation was depleted.
As we settled into our spot, we learned that there are still some kindhearted souls in the world. A lady with two chairs stopped in front of our group. She offered us her chairs. Where her friends were seated on the lawn was too crowded for chairs, so she offered them to us.
Prior to the opening act, I spent thirty minutes exploring the amphitheater.
The stage is massive and it appears to be outfitted with all the latest bells and whistles for concert technology.
Seating options are varied with some unique locations, and the sight-lines seem good. This is despite at least three large light poles that can impact those sight-lines.
Large video monitors grace either sided of the stage. So, if your sight-lines are lousy, and the tall and lanky, James Taylor, looked tiny, the monitors capture all of the action on stage.
The space provided for food, beverage, and merchandise seemed to be adequate. This area was full of people, but despite some long lines people were able to move freely.
Can’t speak for the women, but there was no wait time for the mens’ restroom area. Urinals, sinks, and toilets were numerous.
No one from our group purchased any food or beverages. I’m not sure about food prices, but a variety of items were offered.
I had read about the grumbling over the pricing of alcoholic beverages, and I now understand the grumbling.
Interesting to me that pricing for all wine options was prominently posted. Wine pricing was expensive. A can of wine was $14.00. Wine by the bottle fell into three price ranges from $40.00 to one Cabernet Sauvignon topping out at $110.00.
As far as I could tell pricing for beer was not posted. It is my understanding that beers in 24 ounce cans cost from $16.50 to $23.00. I did see one beer sign advertising a Value Beer for $5.00.
(Photo Bill Pike)
When I inquired about the value beer was I shown a 12 ounce can of Busch Light. While I’m sure Busch Light has its fans, I don’t value it as a beer. Plus, a consumer can purchase a 30 can case of Busch Light in a local grocery store for $27.99. With that pricing, each can of beer in that case cost about 93 cents a can. Even for a value beer, that’s a significant mark up, but nothing like the mark up on the other beers.
The concert started on time with opening act Tiny Habits hitting the stage at 7:30. After their set, the roadies made some adjustments to the stage, and then we were treated to two solid hours of James Taylor and his very gifted band.
On September 15, 2024, my wife and I made our first trip to Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts. We made this trip to see James Taylor.
Clearly, Wolf Trip has been presenting concerts much longer than the rookies at the Allianz Amphitheater. However, getting into Wolf Trap, working our way to the lawn, and picking up our reserved chairs was seamless.
Part of me wants to know if anyone involved with the development of the Allianz Amphitheater spent anytime picking the brains of the staff at Wolf Trap.
It is my hope that the management team will conduct a detailed review of this first season. That review should include receiving feedback from the people who attended the concerts, and all Allianz personnel.
The day after the concert, my wife did receive an email from Live Nation, a survey that opened with: “What did you(really) think of James Taylor? Share your review!”
That opening was followed with these question prompts: How was the event? Best ever? Room for improvement? Leave feedback on your recent concert or event, so Ticketmaster, a division of Live Nation Entertainment, can help enhance your next live experience.
I wonder how many people responded to the request for feedback? Additionally, I wonder how diligently the survey comments are discussed and studied by Live Nation and Ticketmaster?
From my perspective, here are some questions that management needs to ponder:
When a concert is sold out, how might the long line and wait time for getting into the amphitheater be reduced?
If I reserve a chair, how does management ensure that the chair will be available for me?
For consumers of alcoholic beverages, the pricing must be clearly posted for all options, and the pricing of these beverages must be restructured to be more sensible.
How might the seating in the lawn area be more balanced between blankets and chairs? Should the lawn area have a designated section only for chairs?
Hopefully, management will listen and improvements will be ready to be implemented by next summer.
At the age of 77, James Taylor enjoyed performing in this new venue. He was complimentary of the facility, the setting, and the crowd. His compliments also hinted that he would like to return next summer for another performance.
I’m 72, I anticipate returning to the Allianz Amphitheater At Riverfront for another concert. However, if I opt to return, I certainly hope that the management team will collectively work to make improvements. Improvements that will make the concert experience better for all who attend a performance in this amphitheater.
Failure to listen to feedback and institute reasonable changes based upon that constructive criticism could potentially hurt the success of the amphitheater.
At the end of this first season, I know everyone will be looking at the profit numbers. I won’t deny the importance of that data. But did concert attendees have a good experience also drives that revenue, and that can’t be overlooked.
And thinking of people, there is one more important part of our concert experience that also can’t be disregarded—the Allianz personnel. From my interactions with them, I found these employees to be patient, polite, and knowledgeable. In our impatient world those traits are important, especially in a public setting—nice work.
I was surprised when the envelope addressed to my friend, Chris Coble, was returned to our home.
The US Postal Service placed two yellow stickers on the front of the envelope: Return To Sender Not Deliverable As Addressed Unable To Forward.
I rechecked the address. It was correct.
I reached out to my friend, Bruce Bowen. We both had worked with Chris at Hermitage High School. Chris had been one of the secretaries in the school office. I knew Bruce had been better at keeping in touch with Chris than I had.
Sadly, Bruce told me that Chris had passed away. One of Chris’ daughters had informed Bruce. The daughter stated that declining health over the last few months wore her down. There are many angels walking around on earth. Chris was one of them.
School offices in a large high school can be chaotic. I think Chris had a heart for understanding that human chaos. Grumpy parents, disruptive students, and struggling staff members were assisted by Mrs. Coble. Maybe they were accommodated because she understood their challenges.
Chris and I bonded over a genre of country music that had gradually lost its popularity—cowboy songs.
American singer and songwriter, Michael Martin Murphey, who had a hit record about a horse named “Wildfire” rejuvenated his career as a singer of cowboy songs.
In fact his album Cowboy Songs sparked Warner Brothers Records to form a separate recording label, Warner Western, dedicated to recording artists who wrote and sang about life west of the Mississippi River.
Chris’ sister, Carolyn, was a secretary at the musicians union in Nashville. I guess at some point Chris talked with Carolyn about these Warner Western recordings that I shared with Chris and her husband, Ron.
One day, in the Hermitage office, Chris summoned me to her desk. She told me she was going to transfer a call into my office.
I walked back into the office picked up the phone. On the line was Carolyn, she had with her Joey Miskulin. Mr. Miskulin is the accordion player for Riders In The Sky, a session musician, and a record producer in Nashville.
Riders In The Sky is a trio that performs western songs with a dose of humor. You probably have heard them performing songs from the Pixar movie Toy Story 2.
For a few minutes, I had the pleasure of speaking with a patient Mr. Miskulin. A few weeks later an autographed copy of the latest Riders In The Sky recording was handed off to me from Chris courtesy of Carolyn.
That was Chris Coble’s heart at work.
I don’t remember the timing, but at some point, Chris’ husband, Ron, made a decision to retire. Searcy, Arkansas is were they landed. I think they had some family there.
We continued to keep in touch via Christmas cards, letters, and once in awhile a phone call. Chris had beautiful handwriting. Her elementary school teachers would have been proud of the graceful elegance found in each word and sentence.
In one of my desk drawer’s, I keep an expandable folder labeled cards and notes. No doubt, I am a sentimental, softhearted pack rat. When it comes to handwritten notes from family, friends, and sometimes strangers, I have kept many.
I went through that folder today. I found eight handwritten cards and letters from Chris. I skimmed through some of them. There was always an update about her family—children and grandchildren. Her family stories and experiences whether good or challenging often gave me valuable insights as I navigated life.
Sometimes an article clipped from a magazine or newspaper was included. She sent a stellar one about cowboy poet, Baxter Clark. Occasionally, we shared book titles about World War II history that we had read. Chris recalled quite a bit about World War II.
As she continued to age, Chris never worried about the competency of her mind, but she would reference how her body was wearing out.
If you became friends with Chris while she lived in Searcy, Sunday, May 18, 2025 was a sad day. That’s when Chris flew into the wild blue yonder.
The concise obituary covered all the bases. The only surprise was that Chris requested no funeral service. I loved this sentence from the obituary: “God blessed her with gifts of a curious mind, thoughtful friendship, and the ministry of hospitality.”
From what I knew of Chris, those words truly captured her.
Years ago, I pulled out from the attic my wife’s Religion 101 Bible from her freshman year at Greensboro College. I still use that Bible today.
Inside the book of Proverbs, I have kept Chris’ handwritten note from September 26, 2001. Just under where she signed her name, Chris wrote: Proverbs 3: 5-6.
Somehow, I think Chris knew I needed those words: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”
From the way Chris led her life, I believe those words rang true to her too.
I will miss hearing from Chris, but I’m very thankful that she was an irreplaceable friend for all these years.
On the morning of Monday, August 18, I took a run through our neighborhood. It was the first day of school in Henrico County. A late Sunday night thunderstorm had temporarily broken the grip of summer heat and humidity.
I thought back to 1975 when my first year as a teacher started in Martinsville, Virginia. Thirty-one years later, I hit my wall and retired.
This time of year, people who know I worked in the schools ask me— do I miss being in a school building? My answer is a swift—‘no.’
My ‘no’ is grounded in— the world has changed. I doubt I could survive in a public school today. I read the troubling headlines.
Between now, and the beginning of September, public schools in Virginia will come back to life. What the public might not realize is that schools have been breathing all summer.
Staff members are readying the building and grounds for a new year. New students are being registered. Teachers are enrolled in classes to renew their certification or to learn a new instructional strategy. Coaches prep for preseason practices for fall sports. Principals are monitoring details while nudging everyone to be ready for the first day.
When that first day arrives, nerves will be on edge. Restless sleep hassles kindergarten parents and first year teachers. Superintendents are a part of the sleep deprived too. Internally, they whisper a prayer for a quiet first day with no negative sound bytes for the local news at six.
During that first week, everyday a kindergarten student will disrupt a classroom because this student has an unstructured home life.
At lunch time, somewhere in the chaos of a middle school cafeteria, an introverted, unconfident sixth grader cringes in uneasiness.
In a large high school, an eighteen year old student who should be a senior, but who has earned enough credits to be a sophomore silently plots how to get kicked out of school.
And by the end of September, there will be a handful of teachers who are ready to submit their resignation letters. In the classroom trenches, the stress, tension, and pressure are too much.
The stress, tension, and pressure are present at home too. The single parent of the kindergarten student dreads every text, email, or phone call from her student’s teacher.
For the parents of the introverted middle school student, they feel the uncomfortable stress too. As parents, they are hesitant to approach the school’s counselor for support. They worry that requesting assistance might create more stress for their student.
The grandparent of the unsuccessful high school student knows this troubled road. From past failed experiences, the grandparent doesn’t believe the school system can provide the proper intervention for her grandson.
These examples are only a sampling of the challenges faced by students, parents, and public school educators. Multiply that across Virginia, and one can quickly grasp—this is tough, unending work.
I often wonder what it would take to reduce the stress, tension, and pressure in our public schools. Doesn’t matter where a teacher is assigned there is no immunity from stress, tension, and pressure.
What causes these mental, physical, and emotional strains? What keeps them alive from grade level to grade level? Is it our failure to address and fix the shortcomings of our human infrastructure in our communities?
Do our most disruptive and unsuccessful students come from unstable homes? Is that instability linked to absent parents, dysfunctional parenting, trauma from abuse, unemployment, incarceration, homelessness, inadequate medical/mental health care, or food insecurity?
From grades kindergarten through twelve, a student enters a school everyday with one or more of those burdens hovering over them. How much better might life be in school for that student if those burdens were solved? Ask any classroom teacher, they know the answer.
I don’t think anyone wants to admit this or really address it, but the erosion of our families is having an impact on our schools.
A September 2023 report on The Modern American Family from the Pew Research Center stated “there is no longer one predominant family form.” Wally and Beaver, Opie and Andy are gone.
If we truly want to improve test scores in localities where they have never risen, reduce discipline problems, improve morale, and rebuild respect for teachers, then figuring out how to stop the deepening erosion of our families is urgent.
On a morning run, I thought about Pat Conroy’s book, My Lowcountry Heart. He quotes one of his high school English teachers, Gene Norris.
Mr. Norris stated: “they used to trust teachers with the kids they sent us.”
Mr. Norris was correct.
If our schools hope to move forward, we must restore our trust in teachers.
For weeks, retailers have been advertising back to school sales. Doesn’t matter the target— classroom supplies or clothing, they’ve been pushing hard.
Hitting hard in a different way, you will find human resource personnel in public school systems doing everything they can to fill every teacher vacancy.
Then there are old clunkers like me. I retired from the public schools nineteen years ago. Around this time of year, people who know I worked in the schools ask me— do I miss being in a school building? My answer is always a swift—‘no.’
My ‘no’ is grounded in— the world has changed. I doubt I could survive in a public school today. I read the troubling headlines.
Between now, and the beginning of September, public schools in Virginia and across America will come back to life. What the public might not know is that schools have been breathing all summer.
Staff members are readying the building and grounds for a new year. New students are being registered. Teachers are enrolled in classes to renew their certification or to learn a new instructional strategy. Coaches are getting ready for preseason practices for fall sports. Principals are planning and gently nudging everyone to be ready for the first day.
When that first day arrives, nerves will be on edge. Restless sleep hassles kindergarten parents and first year teachers. Superintendents are a part of the sleep deprived too. Internally, they whisper a prayer for a quiet first day with no negative news sound bytes for the local news at six.
During that first week, everyday a kindergarten student will disrupt a classroom because this student has an unstructured home life.
At lunch time, somewhere in the chaos of a middle school cafeteria, an introverted, unconfident sixth grader cringes in uneasiness.
In a large high school, an eighteen year old student who should be a senior, but only has earned enough credits to be a sophomore silently plots how to get kicked out of school.
And by the end of September, there will be a handful of teachers who are ready to submit their resignation letters. In the trenches, the stress, tension, and pressure are too much.
The stress, tension, and pressure are present at home too. The single parent of the kindergarten student dreads every text message, email, or phone call from her student’s teacher.
For the parents of the introverted middle school student, they feel the uncomfortable stress too. As parents, they are hesitant to approach the school’s counselor for support. They worry that requesting assistance might create more stress for their student.
The grandparent of the unsuccessful high school student knows this troubled road. From past failed experiences, the grandparent doesn’t trust the school system to provide the proper intervention for her grandson.
These examples are only a sampling of the challenges faced by students, parents, and public school educators. Multiply that across Virginia and America, and one can quickly grasp—this is tough, unending work.
Survival in the classroom for students and teachers has become more difficult. An undertow of political and public pressure is always restless and present in our schools. From all of the data we collect, I wonder how much we really understand as to why schools have become more challenging.
Where do those challenges come from? How are they birthed? What conditions in the neighborhood and the school’s environment add to the unstable volatility?
Researchers can confirm many reasons for the challenges faced by our public schools. But for me, one of the most overlooked is the erosion of our families.
A September 2023 report on The Modern American Family from the Pew Research Center looks at key trends in marriage and family life.
Early in the report it is clear to see that American families have changed with this significant shift: “In 1970, 67% of Americans ages 25-49 were living with their spouse and one or more children younger than 18. Over the past five decades, that share has dropped to 37%.”
According to Pew researchers, this shift has created an “increase in other types of family living arrangements, like unmarried adults raising children.”
The Pew report notes numerous factors that have impacted the family structure: marrying later in life, interracial/interethnic marriages, same-sex married couples, fertility patterns, and more women are having children without being married.”
Another Pew research study from April 2018 takes a deeper look at The Changing Profile of Unmarried Women. Lots of information is captured here, but one of my take aways was this: “about one-fourth of solo parents are poor.”
Broken down further, by parent type here are the percentages living in poverty: “solo 27%, cohabiting 16%, and married 8%.” One more layer reveals that “17% of fathers and 30% of mothers” are living in poverty.
What these reports find is there is “no longer one predominant family form.”
This shift has impacted schools. From something as simple as registering students when they enter school to rethinking instructional strategies for students who have experienced trauma from the instability that can occur from these family changes.
Despite these challenges, schools, primarily teachers have the responsibility of trying to educate students who enter a school building everyday with the burden of family baggage hovering over them.
That baggage might come from these family issues: unemployment, homelessness, lack of mental and physical health care, incarceration, dysfunction, emotional trauma, and food insecurity. How many of our school shootings or severe disruptions of the school environment can be attributed to the burdens of that baggage?
And despite this baggage, for some of those students, their hours spent inside the school building are the most stable in their lives. Teachers who witness this brief stability will often silently think—if I could only take this student home with me.
Woven into the instability of our families is also the uncertainty of our politics. I can’t believe that America’s Department of Education has been dismantled. Despite our faults and imperfections, our public schools helped to build the foundation of America.
From my perspective, many of our politicians have no real understanding of what a day is like in a classroom in a public school for a student, parent, or teacher. That lack of knowledge and understanding is reflected in self-centered legislation and executive orders.
At the start of a new school year, I hope that every student, parent, and teacher will find the support they need for success.
And for you politicians out there who say you want to improve our public schools, you might want to start by focusing on the erosion of America’s families.
If you truly want to make test scores rise in localities where they have never risen, reduce discipline problems, raise morale inside a school building and their community, and rebuild respect for teachers, then figuring out how to stop the deepening erosion of our families is urgent.
Back in April 1970, NASA faced an urgent situation. That is when Apollo 13 Commander, Jim Lovell, told mission controllers in Houston those famous words: “Houston, we’ve had a problem.”
Lovell, who recently passed away, told NASA leaders the problem was the explosion of an oxygen tank inside the service module. With that explosion, the mission leaders and their team had to figure out how to get Lovell and his fellow astronauts back to earth safely.
From Jim Lovell’s perspective, this near disaster was avoided because of leadership: “What it showed was what you could do with good leadership in an organization, how good leadership fosters teamwork, and how teamwork and initiative, when you faced a problem – to use the initiative or imagination to try to solve the problem because everything doesn’t flow freely in life, and things change.”(NPR)
Quite honestly, America, we’ve had a problem with the erosion of our families for a long time.
Why is it we can explore the out limits of space, build oil wells in oceans, span bridges across canyons and waterways, construct skyscrapers, and yet we continue to struggle to solve our human infrastructure demands.
When might our teamwork, imagination, and initiative be used to solve our vicious generational cycles related to poverty, homelessness, healthcare, unemployment, nutrition, and the erosion of our families?
Not working to solve these on-going challenges, only guarantees more disconcerting days in our schools.
In the fall of 1975, I started my first teaching job in public education. I do not recall what motivated me to become a teacher. But, I would not trade anything for my thirty one years.
With the start of this new school year, I went back and re-read a section of Pat Conroy’s book A Lowcountry Heart.
During the summer of 1961, Pat Conroy had a summer job at his high school. Mr. Conroy completed landscaping tasks on campus per the direction of his principal, Bill Duffy.
Mr. Conroy wrote: “That summer, I decided to try to turn myself into a man exactly like Bill Duffy. He made me want to become a teacher, convinced me that there was no higher calling on earth, and none with richer rewards, and none more valuable in the making of a society I would be proud to be a part of.” (Conroy p. 171)
I agree there is no higher calling on earth than being a teacher, and the work teachers do in the making of our society is still valuable.
We must be supportive of them in their work.
We owe it to our teachers to figure out how to stop the erosion of our families.
This is important, and we can’t delay in finding a solution.
I especially like the scene when Clarence, a want to be angel, is sent back to earth to save George Bailey.
Through his diligence and understanding of human nature, Clarence redirects George Bailey to reclaim his life. With this success, Clarence finally earns his angel wings.
On the morning of Thursday, August 28, 2025 at 6:29, I came upon a sign that showed me two angels had graced our home on Sweetbriar Road.
A gardenia bush on the west side of our yard had a singular open bloom at the top.
The August 28 gardenia bloom (Photo Bill Pike)
This gardenia had previously been full of blooms earlier during the summer. While I’m no expert on gardenias, I think it is rare for a gardenia to offer up a singular bloom after its traditional full summer blossoming.
This gardenia is a special shrub. It originally came from a cutting from my parents yard in Burlington, North Carolina.
I took this cutting and planted in the yard of our first home in Richmond.
I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to do this, but when we sold that house, I dug up that gardenia and transplanted it in our yard on Sweetbriar.
Despite some challenging winters and uncomfortable summers, the gardenia has thrived.
The gardenia was a favorite flower of my parents. I believe my father really loved the sweet fragrance from its white bloom.
I’ve written about this before, but I never forget the last week of August. On August 31, 1992, we lost my mother. Ten years later on September 1, 2002, we lost my father.
For some reason, on the day of my mother’s funeral, a singular gardenia bloom blossomed on the large shrub by the front door of the home of my sister, Lisa, and her husband, Eric, on Parkview Drive in Burlington.
On August 28, when I came across that singular gardenia bloom in our yard, I immediately thought of my parents. Perhaps, a horticulturist could explain why that perfect bloom appeared.
While there might be a perfectly logical science based answer, I have my own reasoning—two angels, Louise and Bill.
I still struggle to comprehend how my parents tolerated me. At times, I was a worthless disappointment.
Fortunately, I sense some of their better qualities did rub off on me.
Part of me believes that at 72, I’m still around because they continue to keep an eye out for me.
My old brain believes the appearance of that singular gardenia bloom on August 28 was their way of reminding me that despite the heartburn and the sleep deprivation I caused for them—they still love me.
As they glide around in that blue yonder, I still cherish and love all they did for me.
And yes, my old heart continues to cherish and love them.
This time last year, there was a mad rush in one wing of our church building to complete a three floor renovation project.
The contractor was doing everything humanly possible to be substantially finished by August 31.
It wasn’t perfect, but the deadline was met. More importantly, the county’s building inspector granted permission to occupy that wing.
In the year that has passed, we’ve spent time with punch lists, uncooperative technology, ambushed water intrusions, and attempting to learn the nuances of the new HVAC system.
HVAC systems are always a challenge. Perhaps the biggest hurdle comes from monitoring our own individual human thermostats.
A few weeks ago, in the neighborhood where our church is located, a powerful late afternoon thunderstorm got our attention. This storm knocked out power to a wide section of the neighborhood.
At the church, the storm disabled two phases of electricity to our building. Full power didn’t return to us until the next afternoon. But in the long minutes when the storm was in action, the flickering ups and downs of the electrical service to our building reeked havoc on some of the components for the new HVAC system.
Because of a shortage of parts from the manufacturer, we’ve been patiently awaiting for repairs.
Recently, one of the technicians for the company was in our building to recheck the monitoring technology.
I wasn’t sure if he remembered me. So, I reintroduced myself.
As I was doing this, he responded to me, “Oh, I know who you are.”
I didn’t know how to take—“Oh, I know who you are,” but we had a good conversation about the challenges involved in getting the HVAC issues solved.
In all my years of working in public schools, we had plenty of challenging students. Students that we knew who they were because rightly or wrongly, their reputations preceded them. For a few of these students, living down their reputations was virtually impossible.
Over time and with the right support, a handful of those students figured out how to make adjustments. Their challenging behaviors became less intrusive.
And then there was a group that no matter what they tried, they just could not keep from getting attention in all the wrong ways. And of course, no matter what the school tried, we could never quite make the right connection, or build the right relationship to help the student adjust.
“Oh, I know who you are,” made me think about my own life.
How do people see me?
Does my reputation precede me?
Do my imperfections create challenges for me and the people I encounter on a daily basis?
Sometimes, I wonder if God really knows who I am?
With so many people in this world, what does God truly know about me?
My guess he knows that my morning prayer routine is too long.
He probably knows that I’m a constant, repetitive whiner.
This is especially true when life goes wrong for good people. I whine to God, “what are you thinking, where are you, how could you let this happen?”
Psalm 139 verse 13 implies that God has known me since I was knit together in my mother’s womb.
In Matthew and Luke, the scripture states that even the hairs of my head are numbered. This is another indication that God knows me down to the hairs on my head.
At this stage of my life, I’d say the hairs on my head are disappearing at such a rapid rate that an accurate inventory is useless.
Whiny old buzzard, new HVAC system behind me (Photo Bill Pike)
I wonder if my shrinking hairline decreases my value in the eyes of the Lord? Am I still of more value than the sparrows of the field?
I have some days on my wobble through life when I think the sparrows of the field are of more value than me.
On those valueless days, I ask myself— why aren’t you doing more?
Where is your voice?
Why aren’t you finding your voice to speak out?
How can you let all of the injustice of this dismantling pass by you in silence?
Maybe God really does know me.
Maybe he knows that I’m nothing more than a whiny old buzzard with no backbone who is gripped by fear of what people will think of me when I finally assert my muted voice.
My wife and I are playing catch up with the Apple TV series—Ted Lasso. We have made it into season three.
In prepping his team, Coach Lasso shares wisdom with his soccer players. Coach Lasso has a way of blending on field wisdom into life wisdom for his players.
I was taken by these words from the script of Episode 12 in Season 2: “To quote the great UCLA college basketball coach, John Obi-Wan Gandalf, “It is our choices, gentlemen, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”
Of course, Coach Lasso was referencing legendary UCLA basketball coach, John Wooden. Coach Wooden not only taught his players the essential details of playing college basketball, but attempted to equip his players about essential life skills too.
“Oh, I know who you are” really comes down to this—do I know who I am?
It is my choices that reveal if I really know who I am.
Regardless of womb knitting, counting hairs, and sparrows, God is watching my clock.
In the remaining time he has allocated for me, I must be wiser. I must find out who I really am.
Growing up in Burlington, North Carolina, every Sunday, I was in church— Sunday school, worship service, and a youth program later that evening. Illness was the only interruption.
That church, Davis Street United Methodist, is now closed. Congregation voted to shutdown. With declining attendance and financial support, staying open wasn’t logical.
To their credit church leaders did their homework. A buyer for the building was found. Over a period of time, the Davis Street congregation opted to merge with another Methodist church.
Over the last fourteen years, I’ve had the privilege of working at my church, Trinity United Methodist. During that time, I’ve learned a lot about churches.
Whether they want to admit it, churches, no matter their size or status, aren’t immune from wondering how much longer can they hang on.
No question, the pandemic had an impact on churches.
Yet, respected research organizations like Gallup and Pew have been reporting for years that churches were struggling.
Six years past the pandemic, congregations are still challenged to address declining attendance, giving, aging members, and deteriorating buildings.
In March of 2024, Gallup reported: “On any given weekend, about three in 10 U.S. adults attend religious services, down from 42% two decades ago.”
A February 2025 study from the Pew Research Center found some stabilization in their data. However, when looking toward the future, this key point was made: “younger Americans remain far less religious than older adults.”
Daniel Silliman, in Christianity Today, and Francis Wilkinson, in Bloomberg, have written about the possible impact that Donald Trump has made in contributing to the decline of church attendance.
No matter who takes the blame, I wonder how frequently church leaders point the finger of blame back at their own shortcomings?
In the baseball movie, Moneyball, there is a pivotal scene between a rookie executive, who is skilled in player analysis, and the seasoned general manager of the team.
The young executive makes a bold statement: “Baseball thinking is medieval, they are asking all the wrong questions.”
Part of me believes that “church thinking is medieval, they are they asking all the wrong questions.”
I’m no expert on churches. However, in this current environment, I think church leaders and congregations are overdue to ask tough questions. That is the only way to determine their current standing in order to determine a path forward.
Part of me believes that churches would benefit from participating in an accreditation process. That process would require churches on an annual basis to assess key evaluative criteria related to: program offerings, finances, outreach, personnel, facilities, safety, technology, and the ability to make meaningful connections.
Conducting an annual review could potentially help churches in making difficult decisions relate to budgets, personnel, facilities, and the effectiveness of their program offerings.
With a need to attract young families, I think churches often overlook the concept of “discretionary time.” Young families often over extend, they are always on the go.
So, how does a church help young families find a fit that works for them? Can churches develop flexibility in their seemingly inflexible traditional schedules for young families?
How can churches be more welcoming to those exploring churches? On a first visit, a nervous visitor doesn’t need to hear the unwelcoming: “Sorry, sonny, but your sitting in my pew.”
Finding their footing for the future means churches can’t fear change.
Churches must embrace change. The path forward will not be found in producing more predictable sameness. Congregations should consider this question—do you want the autopsy for your church to state: cause of death—stubbornly resistant to change.
And speaking of death, why must a funeral be the time to learn all about a church member? Churches must become stronger in building ‘living’ relationships within and outside the walls of the church.
That means becoming more adept in capturing and sharing significant stories within the congregation and community.
How much longer your church can hang on isn’t up to me.
Hanging on depends on your congregation and its leadership, and the willingness to take some risks.
Here are five simple risks:
Compile all essential data about your church for detailed research and review.
From this review, determine what works and what isn’t working within your church.
Resolve to tell the truth from these findings.
Write a report of findings for the congregation that clearly reveals the challenges and strengths of the church.
Use the report of findings as the pivot point for determining how to move forward.
More church closings are unavoidable.
Maybe that’s why this Og Mandino wisdom keeps coming back to me: “I have never heard anything about the resolutions of the apostles, but a good deal about their acts.”
A long time ago someone decided that churches needed to have kitchens.
At our church, we have three: in the original fellowship hall, an oddball one on the third floor of the Preschool wing, and in Trinity Hall.
And there was a mini-kitchen near the church office that we disassembled a few years ago.
I imagine those kitchens could write a book about the life of our church that took place inside those culinary walls.
Cook talk, laughter, gossip, recipes, and compliments were shared.
Back on Wednesday, August 13, my work teammate, Judy Oguich, and I met in the Trinity Hall kitchen to inventory our supplies and make plans for a church wide lunch on Sunday, August 24.
We found adequate supplies of plates, cups, napkins, and utensils.
Since the menu called for grilling hotdogs, we believed we had lots of hotdogs leftover from a community event last fall. Unfortunately, these frozen dogs had long gone past their expiration date. We had to chuck them.
Checking on the condiments that we needed to enhance the hotdogs, we again found that mustard, catsup, relish had an expired.
No matter where we looked, we found food items that were no longer safe to serve.
In truth, I’m not surprised. A few years ago, our church closed out our Wednesday night dinners. No longer could we justify the expense based upon fewer and fewer families attending.
Now, the Trinity Hall Kitchen is used sporadically. The people who use the kitchen leave extra food in the refrigerators. These kindhearted people believe that someone will eventually consume those leftovers.
This wasn’t my first experience in the Trinity Hall Kitchen throwing away outdated or spoiled food.
I had to do this when Hurricane Isabell walloped the neighborhood as electrical service was absent for over a week.
There were other times too.
Leftover food from Sunday night youth dinners were not consumed in a timely manner, and they too had to be tossed.
Perhaps the only good thing that came from disposing of this food was recycling the containers where the food had been stored.
I despise days like Wednesday, and the ones I’ve encountered in the past.
My disgust comes from revisiting Deuteronomy Chapter 15 verse 11: “There will always be poor people in the land.”
And from Matthew 26 and Mark 14: “The poor you will always have with you.”
Look, I’m no Biblical scholar, but those three verses cast an embarrassing guilt over me. In these situations, I could have done better than tossing out all this food.
If I had only been more attune to those refrigerators, we could have fed more people in our community.
I wonder why those three verses are in the Bible?
Were they written as a challenge?
Did the scripture writers think, “Hey, let’s tell the knuckleheads on earth that the poor will always be with them.”
If we tell them this, maybe, they will look at those statements and ask: “Why should we always have the poor with us?”
Why don’t we work together to wipe out poverty in our world so that we will have no poor people.
Seems like a noble idea, but unfortunately, we have been failing for centuries at eliminating poverty.
So why is it that we can explore the vastness of space, perform heart transplants, dam mighty rivers, build skyscrapers that touch the blue yonder, and yet we can’t figure out how to solve the challenges faced by the poor.
Williamsburg, Virginia native, Bruce Hornsby, has built himself quite a career as an extraordinary piano player, songwriter, and singer. His first hit single with his band The Range was a song titled “The Way It Is.”
From my first listening of the song, I was hooked.
The lyrics caught my attention too. The words are a snapshot of ongoing social challenges in America.
But it is the chorus that stuck to me: “That’s just the way it is. Some things’ll never change. That’s just the way it is. Ah, but don’t you believe them.”
Having the poor with us, “That’s just the way it is. Some things’ll never change.”
For me, the bleak affirmation of those two lines is countered with the last line: “Ah, but don’t you believe them.”
We are long overdue to believe that we can solve the vicious generational cycles of our poor.
I can barely imagine what it must have been like for the early explorers who came upon Colorado. Perhaps, they were as awestruck as I during my late July visit.
From our first lunch at the Wynkoop Brewing Company to our last lunch at Westbound and Down in Idaho Springs, our family spent seven enjoyable days in your state.
With Keystone as our base, we hiked, biked, fished, and learned about your priceless and precious land. Though altitude sickness wore on me, it didn’t keep me from admiring majestic mountains, forests thick with evergreens and aspens, wildflowers along the banks of creeks flowing with cold, clear water, and the unexpected sighting of moose.
One afternoon, we witnessed the extremes in Colorado weather. A furious hailstorm pounded on the Manitou and Pikes Peak Railway as the train crept back down the famous peak.
No matter where we ventured— steep trails, rocky creeks, pristine lakes, and assorted retailers—we were met with friendly, patient people who were always willing to answer questions and provide guidance.
On our return from Pikes Peak into Keystone, we avoided the interstates. I will never forget the grand openness and splendor of endless pasture lands that unfolded along those back roads.
Zebulon Pike once said: “May Heaven be propitious, and smile on the cause of my country.”
I hope that heaven will be propitious and continue to smile on the people of Colorado with the will to persevere and preserve their irreplaceable land.
William Avery Pike, Jr.
Richmond, Virginia
Note from author: Honored to have this letter published in the Sunday, August 10, 2025 edition of the Denver Post.
might be baloney 