This is something that I don’t want to write. I’ve begun to write it several times this past week, but words fail me. How do you began to say farewell to someone you care for?

I remember the first time I met Tommy Tucker. It was at my oldest child’s elementary school Christmas program. A teacher had invited him to walk over from the church he pastored next door and begin the program with a devotional and prayer.

I was taken back with his way with words and deep baritone voice.

Our paths crossed a few times as the years passed. Then in 1997 after the shooting at our children’s high school he and the staff of his church stepped forward and took a prominent role in helping our community begin the healing process. That was a difficult time in our family’s life as we tried to cope with the loss of our 15 year old neighbor. Our middle daughter’s best friend. Tommy and his church were there for us and the entire community.

Fast forward a few years and our paths crossed again. Tommy had joined the staff of our church. We spoke in passing on the Sundays I had off and was able to attend church.

Then in 2015 the mill I worked at closed down. For the first time in thirty-seven years I ended up with every weekend off. I had not expected retirement to come so soon. After gathering my wits about me I decided to refire instead of retire. I wanted to live a life shift work had prevented me from living.

Of course one of my priorities was to attend Sunday morning worship services on a regular basis. I guess Tommy noticed. One Sunday he invited me and my wife to visit a class he taught. My first inclination was to decline. I’m just not comfortable in small groups. And I hate reading, speaking or praying out loud in any setting.

But when I opened my mouth to decline I found myself telling him I would attend with a couple stipulations. I asked him to never call on me to read, pray or speak. I confessed I was terrified of groups. He never batted an eye. He simply said, “I can agree to that. See y’all next Sunday.”

One Sunday led to another and another and another. Tommy had a way with words and presenting a lesson that left everyone in the class wanting more. I found myself engaging when my goal in the past had always been to keep quiet.

I discovered he also taught a men’s bible class on Thursday’s. The first time I was brave enough to enter that class I immediately thought that I was out of my element. I was one of the younger members gathered around the table. And I was probably the least educated person in the room. But I grew to love those men that sat around the table. They made me feel welcome. Sadly I have not been able to attend since COVID-19 changed our world. I have a fear of exposing the older members to something I may have come in contact with.

A couple weeks ago another unexpected life event presented itself. Tommy announced he was retiring.

When folks get to our age you know things have to change. Though I wasn’t completely surprised I hated to hear his time with us was coming to an end. Just like everyone in our Sunday school class, when the lessons are over - I find myself wanting more.

On my headstone I am having engraved, “Algood things must come to an end.”

I suppose that is the way I have to see the times we have shared together since he invited me to attend his Sunday school class. All good things must come to an end.

This will be his last Sunday serving on our church staff. But I cannot help but think our paths will cross again somewhere. In fact I feel it’s inevitable. A school program? A tragedy or loss? A hospital visit? Another classroom somewhere?

God caused our paths to cross in the past for a reason. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does it again. For that I am grateful.

How do you say goodbye to someone who has become a friend? You don’t. You simply say I’ll be seeing you

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Rick Algood
September 27, 2020