the east wing

As we look at the picture above we see the East Elevation of our new church. This is the side where Brightview Senior Living is. Notice the three doors at the ground level. These will lead into the fellowship hall. In front of the doors will be a drop-off lane so that preschool parents can drive up, drop off their kids, and circle around and exit the property. The drop-off lane can also be used for handicap parking on Sunday mornings. Above the doors are five windows that will give our fellowship hall an abundance of natural light.

Inside the doors, to the right will be restrooms, and to the left is the kitchen and pantry. Straight ahead will be another three doors that will lead into the sanctuary. To the right of the kitchen will be an electric fireplace, over which will be a TV screen.

The fellowship hall is designed to be multi-purpose space. When we have a dinner, banquet, or wedding reception, this area will accommodate 120 diners, sitting at round tables. The fellowship hall can also be used as overflow seating when the sanctuary is full.

During the week, it will be set up with casual seating. Preschool moms, after dropping off their kids, can park in the parking lot and come in for a cup of coffee or Bible study, or parenting classes. In front of the fireplace there will be a couch, end tables, and some easy chairs, giving the room a cozy appearance and facilitating a fellowship atmosphere.

To the right of the sanctuary will be the office hallway, leading to seven offices. To the left of the sanctuary will be the preschool hallway, leading to six classrooms.

It’s exciting to look at the plans and imagine what God will be doing in this space. Keep praying!

i got pied

At the preschool Fall Festival on November 8th, “Somebody” decided it would be fun to “pie” the pastor and the preschool director. For a donation, you could take a pie plate, fill it with cool whip, and whack Pasta Bort or Miss Sofia.”

The pie station was kind of slow at first. Apparently, some people feel a little skittish about pieing clergy and educators. But that all changed when Pastor Michelle from the Kingstowne Communion church arrived. Michelle and her congregation will be joining us in the new church when it opens. Her daughter, Olive, is one of our preschool students. Apparently, Methodist Pastors do not have the scruples that most Baptists have.

Michelle paid twice the normal fee for the privilege of pieing her Baptist colleague. In fact, she did it multiple times, talking all the while about what a good fundraiser it was. She even mentioned that next year she would be glad to join in the fun. (I pointed out that she didn’t have to wait. I’d be willing to pie her right then.) But alas, she had just put on her makeup so it “wasn’t a good time.” Anyway, Michelle’s generosity opened the floodgates and led to a flood of face piers.

My favorite moment of the afternoon was when one of our preschoolers gave it a try. He was game, and wanted to participate, but didn’t quite understand the process. At first he stuck his finger in the cool whip and tasted it. Then he scooped a big handful into an empty pie plate and proceeded to taste it. His father tried to explain that he was supposed to pie Pastor Bart’s face. He then took the pie plate and pied his own face.

This reminded me that we don’t always understand what God is calling us to do. It happens to all of us, just as it happened to Saul, Peter, and Moses. The best we can do is keep on trying, learn from our mistakes, and try to get it right. For me, I’m pretty certain that God is leading me to add an extra portion of Cool Whip to the pie that I will stick in Pastor Michelle’s face next year.

the southside

For the past few weeks, I have been sharing some thoughts about our new building. The picture above depicts what it will look like from the Southside. This is the side that faces Franconia District Rec Center.

At the bottom of the picture you will see four doors, each one set between two windows. These doors will lead into four of our six preschool classes. Each classroom will have its own restroom, counter space, sink, and cabinets.

To the right of the classroom doors are two more doors showing the entrance to the mechanical room and pantry. Above these doors are windows over the fellowship hall.

Just below the steeple is a lattice work design made of white and bronze Hardie board siding. This design appears on all four sides of the building.

On this side of the building, just beyond the doors is the playground. If you want a good case of “sticker shock,” look up the cost of playground equipment. This stuff is EXPENSIVE! The good news is that another church Miller Brothers Construction is working with is upgrading their playground and has used equipment to donate. This will save us thousands of dollars in equipment costs. Part of our vision for the playground is to include equipment that is handicap and wheelchair accessible. Our hope is that preschoolers, physically challenged, and seniors will all be able to play together.

I get excited just talking about this stuff. I can’t wait until we can all gather at God’s house and play!

the gifts of bezalel

When God instructed Moses to build the tabernacle in Exodus 35, he provided a talented man named Bezalel to guide the project. He was a gifted man who could work with gold, silver, and bronze. He was a stonecutter, a wood carver, an engraver, and a weaver.

Have you ever known someone like that? My dad used to work with a guy like Bezalel. He was a skilled auto mechanic, a talented carpenter, an expert plumber, and a proficient electrician. He could do it all.

I’m not much of a Bezalel. I’m not the guy to call if you need help crafting sliver or gold. I’d be pretty helpless as a stonecutter and would probably be the worst wood carver in history. You don’t want me anywhere near a construction site, and whenever I try to fix a plumbing issue I cause a flood.

On the other hand, there are some things I CAN do. If you need a sermon, or a wedding, or a funeral, then I’m your man. If you need a vision caster, or someone to do a dramatic monologue, or write a poem, I can do it, but you stick a hammer and nails in my hand all I’m going to build is a mess.

I’m reminded of Bezalel as I watch the live feed from our new church construction site. Today, they are putting shingles on the roof. They climb ladders to dizzying heights, carry heavy loads that would break my back, and work with precision and speed. God has given them the gifts necessary to do this kind of work.

I’m envious of the Bezalel’s of the world, until I remember that God gives us all gifts and abilities that can be used in His service. There are some things that I will never be able to do, and that’s okay. Because God always provides someone that can get the job done. For more information, join us Sunday as we unpack the story of Bezalel.

a brightview Resident

Last week my wife and I met Tom Ramirez, the architect for our new church, at the construction site. Tom wanted to talk with us about colors for the siding, trim, and shingles. I’m finding out that there are more details to a building project than I could have imagined.

And we are just getting started! When we had an online meeting with the builder, it took 1 ½ hours to go over the lighting fixtures. You have sanctuary ceiling lights, sconces on the side, fellowship hall lighting, classroom lighting, exterior lighting, playground lighting, steeple lighting, and exit lighting. (Plus all the lighting I can’t think of right now)

In addition to the exterior colors and lighting, we need to select interior colors, flooring, cabinets, counter tops, and a million other things. We need to talk about sound equipment, office furniture, security systems, and playground equipment.

As I was standing in the parking lot consulting with our architect, and feeling a bit overwhelmed, I heard a familiar voice calling my name. I looked up and saw the smiling face of Mr. Ron Shamblin. Ron is the son of Don and Grace Shamblin, who were faithful members for many years. In fact, it was Grace who started this whole building idea when she asked me the question in 2016, “Pastor, have you ever considered selling the ball field?”

When I saw Ron I said, “What are you doing here?” To which he replied, “I live here!” It turns out Ron was one of the first residents to move in when the Brightview Senior Living building opened. There is something very satisfying about Ron living in the backyard of our new church. It feels like we have come full circle.

As Ron was driving away, he smiled and said, “I’ve come home.” Indeed, he has. And very shortly the rest of us will have the same opportunity. To come home to our place of worship on Telegraph Road.

trusses

This week, our friends with Miller Brothers Construction have been putting trusses in place on our new building. A few months ago, I didn’t know what a truss was. Now I’m writing about them. A truss is a strong, triangular-shaped framework, typically made of wood or steel, designed to distribute loads evenly across a structure.

Miller Brothers gave me access to the security camera they installed at the site. I can watch the progress on the building in real time using an app on my phone. On days like today it’s easy for me to forget everything else as I watch the process. It is fascinating. Today I saw a crane lift the trusses up to workers on the roof so they could put them in place. I’ve been impressed by the skill of the crane operator, the balance of the workers, and the speed at which they work. I’m convinced that if my family depended on me to make a living as a construction worker, we all would have starved to death years ago. I have a lot of respect for these guys.

Watching them put the trusses in place is exciting. It shows that progress is being made quickly. And it is a stark reminder that we need to be making preparations for our reopening, which will be here before we know it.

We have all heard that a church is not a building, but rather, the community of faith that meets in a building. From that perspective, what can we be doing in the here and now to make Virginia Hills a healthy congregation?

The great commission (Matthew 28:16-20) tells us we should be about “making disciples.” While making disciples is one of the “trusses” of our faith, it has nothing to do with building a structure. It has everything to do with changing lives. Who do we know that needs to be transformed by the power of Christ?

i like your shoes

This past Sunday the good folks at Mount Vernon United Methodist worshipped on their front porch. They had planned a picnic and intended to worship on the front lawn, but the weather was a little “iffy”, so they moved the worship to the porch.

It was a wonderful worship experience. It was cloudy, but the air was cool and being outside for worship was delightful. Pastor Betsy preached on Luke 18:15-17, where Jesus says, “Suffer the little children to come to me and forbid them not.” At one point in the sermon, she talked about our preschool and how nice it is to be greeted by the children when she comes into the building. Not long ago, one little girl smiled at her and said, “I like your shoes!” There were smiles all around as Betsy told this simple story of affirmation.

This illustration reminded me of my own preschool shoe story. Last year, I was helping with the before care program when I noticed a child with a pair of dinosaur shoes. I asked if I could borrow them sometime and the kid said, “Oh Pasta Bort. Your feet are too big!”

Later that same morning a new student arrived for her first day of school. Her name was Iris, and she was wearing the most adorable purple shoes. They matched her purple dress, and the purple ribbon in her hair. When I said, “I like your shoes,” and asked if I could borrow them, she quickly said, “Yes.” I then asked if she thought they were too small for my big feet, and she said, “No.” She then took her shoes off and handed them to me.

These stories illustrate some of the things I love most about our preschool. Many of these students are quick to smile and say something positive. Like, “I like your shoes.” They are honest and say things like, “Your feet are too big!” And sometimes they will take off their shoes, even though they are a crucial accessory to their outfit, and hand them over to a stranger simply because they ask. The only question for me now is, “What am I going to wear with these purple shoes? There is nothing in my closet that will match them.”

Whats for dinner

In the big world of questions that must be answered, one of the more mundane is “What am I going to fix for dinner?” I never dreamed in my high school years that this would be such an issue. It’s not an issue for those living in third world countries, whose question is “Will there be any dinner?” And yet, the older I get, the more difficult it is to answer that question.

I think of it now because I am writing this on a Monday, and Monday is my turn to cook dinner. The clock is ticking, and I need to have dinner on the table in about four hours. What do I need to pull out of the freezer to defrost? What ingredients do I need to have? Do we have them in the house or do I need to run out to the store?

Do I have to prepare something new, or do we have leftovers in the fridge? Can we order a pizza, or get carry-out Chinese? Can I make my “world famous” meatloaf, or have I made it so often that my family is sick of it? If I put off the decision long enough, maybe my wife will call and tell me she is picking up something on the way home.

I know myself well enough to know that my afternoon will be spent staring into the freezer and hoping to be inspired. Will it be a healthy meal, or will it endanger my life? Will the meal be laden with fruits and vegetables, or will it clog my arteries and threaten my existence? Will dinner be an elaborate feast with seven courses, or will it be a casserole that I slap together with whatever is around?

Maybe I’ll fix a brand new recipe that I’ve wanted to try since seeing it on the cooking channel. Or maybe I’ll stick to the old tried and true family favorites that have been handed down for generations. Or maybe it’s time to forego dinner altogether and fast.

The choices are endless and overwhelming. But I’d rather have that than the options the Hebrews faced while wandering through the wilderness. Manna and Quail, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year, for Forty Years! That will be our subject this Sunday as we explore Exodus 16:11-15 and our continuing sermon series called “Wandering in the Wilderness.” See you then.

mosquitoes

Last week, my wife and I visited some friends who have recently retired and moved to Smith Mountain Lake. When we arrived, they gave us a brief tour of their home, including the deck that looks out over the lake. They explained that the deck was where they spend most of their time. Anticipating that we would be spending a lot of time on the deck while visiting, I asked “How are the mosquitoes?”

As I recall, the wife said, “There aren’t any.” And the husband said, “They are not bad.” That night, while sitting on their deck, I could feel the “not bad” mosquitoes nibbling on my ankles. I noticed my wife was scratching her arms. I also noticed that our hosts were not scratching at all. When they saw us being eaten alive they came to our rescue with citronella candles and bug spray, but it all made me wonder; why do some people get bitten by mosquitoes and others don’t?

So, I looked it up on the internet and read something very interesting. Mosquitoes do indeed prefer some people over others. I found out that this is a common phenomenon, and there are several reasons for it. It seems that mosquitoes prefer humans that have type O blood, those who exhale more carbon dioxide, those who tend to have a higher natural body temperature, those with a higher metabolic rate, those who wear certain colognes, and those who wear darker colors.

If our friends were to write a Psalm about their retirement home, it might go something like this: I call it the 23rd Perspective

The Lord is my Deet, I shall not be bitten

He makes me lie down in green forests, as though there were netting around me

He leads me away from standing water, where the mosquito doth breed

He relights my citronella candle when it is blown out

Yeah though I walk through infestations, I will fear no scratching, for my blood type is A

He preparest a bug zapper, where my tormentors are fried.

He preparest a table before me whilst the mosquito looks thereon

But I dress in white and my body temperature is below average

Surely, itching and scratching will be foreign, and we shall live at Smith Mountain forever

stuff on the side of the road

Last weekend my wife and I traveled to Smith Mountain Lake to visit some friends. On the way home, while sitting in a traffic jam on I-81, I noticed a trash bin on the shoulder of the road. It looked like a perfectly good trash bin, a lot like the one I set out every Monday night in front of my house. I couldn’t help but wonder, “How did that get there?”

I can imagine several scenarios where a trash bin might wind up on the side of I-81. Perhaps someone was hauling some stuff to the dump, and after starting home, they discovered (too late) that an empty trash bin will not stay in the back of the pickup. Maybe a mighty wind picked it up from someone’s front yard and tossed it across the road. Or maybe a prankster felt it would be hilarious to put it there so that people like me would wonder, “How did that get there?” (Sounds like something a Radford University student would do.)

I’m sure we have all seen weird stuff on the side of the road. Things like toasters, luggage, hats, and furniture. One of my favorite memes is the one showing a dead racoon on the side of the road with a “get well soon” balloon tied to his leg. (Also something a Radford student might do during the fall semester.)

An abandoned kitten, a lost dog, a cell phone, and a crutch. I see these things and wonder how they got there. What’s the story behind their getting tossed to the curb? Was the kitten part of a litter that the owner could not care for? Did the dog slip out of the house unobserved? Was the phone tossed out the window in anger when some guy called about an extended car warranty? Was an injured leg miraculously healed while heading down the interstate?

We all know what it’s like to be tossed aside, don’t we? To be unwanted, unneeded, and lost. The good news is Jesus’ specialty is finding us when we get lost. He might not be interested in a trash bin, but he is certainly interested in you.

Filling in for Grandpa

Hello Humans:

My name is Mozzie and I am the grand cat of your pastor. My official title is Grand Exalted Executive Officer of the Purdy Household. While grandpa is taking a nap, I am writing his weekly newsletter for him.

Grandpa and I have a standard operating procedure for mornings. At 0 dark hundred hours I jump on his face to let him know it’s time to get up. He likes to put on a pot of coffee and drink it while doing what he calls “a devotion.” He doesn’t seem to understand that I should be his priority.

Cats require a certain amount of attention in the morning. We need to sit on someone’s chest and purr. We need to butt heads with people, get our neck scratched, and draw blood at least once a week. It’s all spelled out in The Official Cat Owners Handbook (2023 edition).

This morning, Grandpa was trying to do his devotion and was ignoring me. (I suspect he has never read the handbook.) So, it was my responsibility to interrupt him with every opportunity. I licked his hand, pushed his Bible away, dug my claws into his chest, and said, “Meow” about 50 million times.

Cats have a built-in mind control mechanism that come in handy in cases like this one. I explained to grandpa that cats are very devotional in and of themselves. When we activate our cuteness aura, we exude a force field that is conducive to lowering blood pressure, relaxing one’s mind, and putting one in a meditative mindset.

You see, there are many ways to do a devotion. You can pray, read the Bible, be still and listen, and in some cases just spend time listening to your cat. Once I prepared grandpa for a mind-bending religious experience, I knocked over his coffee cup, pounced on his stomach and went downstairs for the day. Grandpa says he’s willing to rent me out to anyone that needs help devoting. All you need is some coffee to spill, a hand to scratch, and some catnip.

Wolf trap

Last Friday, my wife texted me and asked if I would accompany her to Wolf Trap Farm Park to see a Mary Chapin Carpenter concert. Now understand, I’m not a big fan of making plans at the last minute. My plan was to sit in front of the TV in an airconditioned house and fall asleep with three dogs on my lap. I’m also not a fan of sitting outside on a humid August night surrounded by a few thousand other hot, sweaty fans. But I AM a fan of my wife, so I decided to go.

I have loved Mary Chapin Carpenter ‘s music for many years. In 1987, the year I arrived at Virginia Hills, my brother gave me a copy of her first album and said, “I think you will like her music.” As I listened to her songs, they resonated with my 28 year old self. Songs about coming of age, being on your own, starting a career. So going to this concert was like going to see a long lost friend.

You know how it is when you haven’t seen someone in a long time, and in your mind they still look like they did the last time you saw them? In my mind I was thinking of a 28 year old Carpenter: young, energetic, and a little sassy. But when she stepped out on stage I was little startled. She is 30 years older than the last time I saw her at Wolf Trap. Her face carries the lines of age, and her voice is lower than it used to be. She also doesn’t move as quickly as she used to. As I watched her, it occurred to me she is the same age as me, and I don’t look much like I did at 28 either.

Carpenter has had some rough spots in the past 30 years. She suffered a major health crisis, a divorce, and lost her father. Her bearing on stage carries the weight of these experiences.

Carpenter’s songs take awhile to absorb. They grow on you as you discover ways that her story intersects with yours. Much of what she writes articulates feelings that you were never able to put into words. After downloading a few songs from her latest album, I find her words telling my story as she tells her own. Her latest album reflects on aging, struggling, falling down, and getting back up. They are poignant, thoughtful, painful, yet filled with hope. She is older, wiser, and at peace with her life’s journey.

Thanks Mary. It’s been good to get reacquainted! I hope to see you again next summer at Wolf Trap.

Crash, Bang, Boom

Last Thursday, I was sitting in my office at Mount Vernon when I heard a loud crash. At first I thought it might have been a loud clap of thunder, or that someone had fallen down the steps while carrying a piano or something. Turns out the sound was a white oak tree landing outside my window.

My daughter and I were the only ones in the building at the time. Everyone had left for the day, and we were hanging out waiting to go to Denny’s for the Thursday night supper club. Walking around back to examine the damage I saw that the tree missed the church building. But the air conditioning unit was not so lucky.

Some of you may recall that the church was having problems with their HVAC system last winter. Several worship services in January were held in a classroom on the second floor until it was “repaired.” I use that term lightly because the repair guy explained that he was able to get it going with some WD-40 and duct tape, but the system needed to be replaced.

HVAC systems for churches aren’t cheap. Those of you who remember our old building will remember that we had problems with our own system. While Pastor Betsy and the Church Council struggled with what to do, I was able to relax and think, “Thank goodness it’s not my problem.”

As I write this article the problem is still unresolved. Before the AC guy can assess the damage, the tree guy needs to cut away the offending tree, which is another huge expense. In the meantime, we will continue worshipping in a non-airconditioned fellowship hall. The Christian church managed to survive for 1900 years without AC, so I think we’ll survive. I’ll see you Sunday, wearing short sleeves and waving my VHBC funeral fan

Mowing the Lawn

Last week, as the temperatures soared and the humidity skyrocketed, I needed to cut my grass. I had put it off as long as I could, and I had several excellent excuses for why. It’s hard to cut the grass while it’s raining, which it did constantly the week before. And also… well… I’ve been busy, which is my standard excuse for putting off anything I don’t want to do. If the dishes need to be washed, or the laundry needs to be done, or the attic needs to be cleaned out, sorry, I’m busy. At the rate I’m going, that attic won’t be cleaned out in my lifetime.

But there is something highly motivating about a lawn that needs to be mowed. Especially when your neighbors haven’t been as busy as you. I was surrounded by well manicured lawns and could almost hear the homeowners association knocking on my door. “Mr. Purdy,” they would say, “The Homeowner’s constitution, article 4, paragraph 2 clearly states that all lawns must be between 2 and 4 inches tall. If you don’t cut your grass we will have no choice but to arrest you and send you to the Alcatraz lawn prison.”

With that in mind, I ventured out on Friday morning to cut my grass. In the old days, I could do the job in a couple hours, but I’m not as fast as I used to be. Before I can even get started, I have to put on sunscreen, insect repellent, and a wide brim hat. I have to make sure I drink plenty of water, take lots of breaks, switch out the batteries on the lawn mower, and yell at the dogs every few minutes. (They are obligated to bark at mailmen, thunder, squirrels, vacuum cleaners, and lawn mowers. I think that’s in the constitution too.)

Between filling in holes in the lawn, stopping to avoid heatstroke, and fixing the gate I broke transitioning from the front yard to the back yard, it became a two day job. When I came inside on Saturday I was sweaty, thirsty, hot and tired. BUT! It was a good kind of tired. The kind of tired you get from working hard and accomplishing something.The book of Proverbs says, “Look at the ant, you sluggard! Watch them and be wise. They have no commander, but they store up food in the summer. A little sleep, and little slumber, a little folding of the hands, and poverty will come on you like a bandit.”(Proverbs 6)

I’m a bit of a sluggard from time to time. And the older I get the sluggier I become. (Which is a word I just invented). But God intended for us to be productive. If I’m not too busy on Friday, I may just tackle that attic

Cortisone Shot

Sometime back I mentioned in a newsletter article that I had a bad hip. The doctor suspected a torn labrum and advised me to get 6 weeks of physical therapy. If that didn’t work, he would order an MRI. That MRI was performed a few weeks ago, revealing that I do, indeed, have a torn labrum. Based on previous discussions with this doctor, I knew I had a couple of options. One was arthroscopic surgery to repair the labrum. The other was a full hip replacement. When the doctor told me I was not a candidate for arthroscopic I assumed I was headed for a hip replacement. But during an appointment last week I heard about a third option: a cortisone shot.

So, last Thursday I got the shot. Guided by an ultrasound, I was injected with a needle the size of Ethiopia. I’d heard about these things and how painful they were. I braced myself for excruciating pain. Just before the injection, I said, “Is this where you give me a bullet to bite on and a shot of cheap whiskey? Without missing a beat he said, “Standard Operating Procedure in this office is a shot of 20-year-old Macallan Scotch.” My doctor thinks he’s a comedian.

Apparently, they were out of Macallan that day, and I didn’t get the bullet either. But before I knew it the procedure was over, and I was on the way home. It wasn’t bad at all. The doc made it clear that that the shot was a temporary fix, and that someday I would still need to get the hip replaced. But for now, I’m feeling much better. This whole experience reminded me of the temporary fixes of life. It’s like when a pipe is leaking and we put duct tape over it. Or the roof is leaking, and we put a tarp over it. Or the car window is busted, and we tape a piece of cardboard over it. You can go with a temporary fix, but that’s not a permanent solution to the problem. This Sunday we will be looking at Amos 8:1-12. The passage describes how the Israelites focused on religious practices, worship, and sacrifice to ease their conscience. But their problem went deeper than that. These things were only a temporary fix. To REALLY fix the problem, they needed to root out the sin in their lives. Join us as we explore this passage together. I promise it will be easier than a cortisone shot.

pumpkin plant

Several weeks ago, my daughter planted a vegetable garden in our front yard. This is the third year Justine has done this, and she has gotten pretty good at it. Her raised garden beds, trellises, and irrigation system are impressive, and she did it all by herself. We have tomatoes, zucchini, lettuce, and peppers galore.

Not long ago we noticed something growing outside one of the garden beds. At first we didn’t know what it was, but eventually we realized it was a pumpkin plant. This is a little strange, because she did not plant pumpkins this year. In fact, in all of her past gardens she has never planted pumpkins. We decided to let it grow just to see what would happen. The thing is HUGE! It looks like it is on track to cover our entire front yard.

A closer look this weekend revealed that this plant has several small pumpkins developing. Little green orbs about the size of a ping pong ball. We have already decided how to carve them for Halloween!

We have no idea how an errant pumpkin seed found its way to our front yard. Maybe a squirrel dropped it while nibbling on somebody’s Jack-O-Lantern. Maybe a bird dropped it while carrying it to its nest. Or maybe the Great Pumpkin planted it there so Charlie Brown would have a place to hang out on All-Hallows Eve.

Isn’t it odd? You can plant seeds, pull weeds in the hot summer sun, water them every day and your plants still die. The deer will get them, or the drought, or the hailstorm. And then when you least expect it, a plant comes along that practically grows itself.

Life is like that, isn’t it? Sometimes all the work in the world leads to nothing. All your efforts are like banging your head against the wall. But then something happens that is quite unexpected. Something effortless and beautiful and intriguing. A gift from God that puts a smile on your face. I don’t know if this plant will survive the summer. We’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, does anyone have a good pumpkin pie recipe?

a brightview view

Last week I had the opportunity to tour the Brightview Senior Living facility. This is the complex that sits on the property the church sold a few years ago. They are scheduled to open on July 8th. Karen Stewart, the Executive Director for this location, gave the tour for representatives of several organizations in the community.

We saw the “Rose Hill Salon,” the “Virginia Hills Theatre,” and the “Huntley Pub.” We saw the dining room, the gym, the game room, and the memory care unit, where we heard about the Brightview philosophy for senior living.

It was all quite fascinating, but the thing that impressed me most was the view from one of the independent living apartments. Pictured here is the view from the dining room. My first thought as I looked out the window was, “They will have an excellent view of Virginia Hills Church & Learning Center.” The green plot of land in the middle of the picture is where our church will sit. I tried to convince Karen that this apartment would make a good parsonage, but to no avail.

Some people, when they look out this window, might only see a muddy field; green, brown, and barren. But as I looked out the window, I saw the future: the main entrance is on the right side of the building and next to it is a landing with rocking chairs and picnic tables, where Sunday School classes can meet on nice days, and people can sit and rock and visit.

On the Brightview side is a drop off lane where preschoolers will enter the building through three doors that lead into the fellowship hall. Through these doors a comfortable greeting space can be seen, with easy chairs and couches where people can meet and chat while having a cup of coffee. On the left side of the building can be seen the edge of the multi-generational playground, where people of all ages and abilities can have fun together. On top of the building is an illuminated steeple reminding the neighborhood that this is a place where light cuts through the darkness.

The view right now is somewhat lacking. An empty lot. But the view of the future is…well…bright. It’s a “Bright View!”

The class of 2025 has left the building

Last Wednesday was the last day of our church’s preschool year. Today, the building is unusually quiet and it’s a little unnerving. This is the 38th time I have seen our preschoolers graduate and move on to kindergarten. But this year felt a little different. In the past, I have always been a little bit removed from the students. While they were in class, I was writing sermons, visiting the hospital, or preparing a Bible study. Other than greeting them at the door at the beginning of the day, I did not have too much time with the kids.

A few years ago, my daughter, who works for the preschool, called me and asked me to come down to the puppy class. “You have to see this,” Justine said, “They are SO cute!” I was surprised to hear her say this because she always claimed to dislike children. (Which is unfortunate if you work at a preschool) I moseyed on down to the puppy class and they were indeed very cute. Being around that level of cuteness is like crack cocaine. You get addicted very quickly.

So, I decided I needed to up my preschool interaction game. I started helping with the before-care program Monday – Thursday. William and I would build rockets out of Legos. He would then count down from 10, and we would blast off to adventures on Mars or the moon. Harper and I would color together. She is very good at keeping it between the lines and several of her works of art adorn the wall in my office. CJ would tap me on the shoulder and then hide behind me while I called his name and said, “Hey! Where did that kid go?” He would then pop out from behind me, and I would say, “Hey…what’s the big idea?”

In retrospect, I’m not sure how much I was helping. Mostly I just played, which is a lot more fun than writing newsletter articles. What I AM sure of is that these kids wrapped their cuteness around my heart in a powerful way. There is something very satisfying about sitting next to a child and coloring with them. It’s great for lowering your blood pressure and relieving anxiety.

The thing is, puppies become ladybugs, ladybugs become Dinosaurs, and Dinosaurs graduate and go off to kindergarten. The puppies I went to visit a few years ago are now Virginia Hills Preschool graduates. Good luck, class of 2025. I’m glad you came my way.

Baby Chicks

Allow me to introduce you to Patches, Penny, Pickle, and Pumpkin. They are the latest members of the Virginia Hills Church Preschool. The picture above is not the clearest, but we had the hardest time getting them to stand still.

Several times over the years our school has tried to hatch baby chicks with the help of an incubator. The first attempt that I can recall was the first year I was pastor at Virginia Hills. From what I remember that attempt was unsuccessful. We have had many unsuccessful attempts over the years. We get the eggs, put them in the incubator, wait the required amount of time, and then throw the eggs away when they don’t hatch.

A few years ago, Justine’s college roommate started raising chickens. She was so successful that my daughter enlisted her help in restarting this tradition. It’s a very educational project. The preschoolers get to see eggs hatching and are awed by the cuteness of the little critters.

Last year we set things up, using the latest and greatest equipment. When the time for hatching came and went, with none of the desired results, Justine borrowed some chicks from her friend so the preschoolers could at least experience the adorableness.

This year, we tried again, and it actually worked! Unfortunately, the chicks hatched over the long Memorial Day Weekend. We returned to the office and found four chicks chirping away, three grey ones and one black one. Once again, our kids missed out on the actual hatching, but they were fully immersed in the cuteness when they returned to school.

So, what are the theological implications of this experience? The whole thing speaks to me of new life, the beauty of our world, patience, perseverance, failure, and success. Doesn’t the Bible say, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again?” Actually, it doesn’t, but I’m pretty sure it is implied in there somewhere.

falling down the stairs

I was in the preschool office when the call came in. Incoming Preschool Director Sofia Henry answered the phone call from Outgoing Preschool Director Dani Peeling. The look on Sofia’s face told the story. Something had happened and it was serious. She said, “I’ll be right there.” As she rose from her desk she said, “Dani has fallen down the steps at her house and they have called 911.”

As Dani was coming down the steps that morning she was hurrying because she was running late. She stumbled, landed on her bottom, and heard something crack. What she didn’t know at the time was that she had a compression fracture of the L-4 vertebrae in her back. What she did know was, lying on the floor at the foot of her stairs, she couldn’t feel or move her legs.

Several hours later, when Sofia returned to the office, she gave us a report. Dani had fallen while her husband was out of town for the first time since their kids were born. (Great timing, right?) The ambulance took her to Fairfax Hospital where x-rays revealed her fracture. She would be having surgery that night to install a hardware store full of metal that would stabilize her back. By the time Sofia left the hospital, feeling was already returning to Dani’s legs and the doctors assured her that she would make a full recovery.

As I write these words Dani is still in the hospital and is expected to go home in a few days. She will get there just a few weeks before she and her family move to Florida, another example of her impeccable timing.

Sunday afternoon, Justine and I visited her at Fairfax. She looked pretty good for someone who had just experienced such a bodacious booboo. We talked about how scarry it was, how painful it was, and how it could have been so much worse. We’ve all heard stories of people who have had similar accidents and were paralyzed for life. Our lives can turn on a dime and everything can change in an instant. Was it luck? Was it God’s intervention? Was her guardian angel watching out for her, or did the angel push her down the stairs? I don’t know. What I do know is I’m going to praise God that Dani is okay, and I’m going to be mighty careful as I go down the steps.