by Michael Pumphrey

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Fall is one of my favorite times of the year.

The cool breeze finally breaks through the Virginia coast’s summer humidity. Football returns, along with the food, family, and friends that follow. My daughters might question the football part.

But the older I become, the more I realize that what I love most about this season are the memories.

Every Thanksgiving as a child, we gathered at my aunt and uncle’s house in Ohio. I remember standing outside “with the guys” in the November cold, gathered around the deep fryer, anticipating a golden turkey and more sides than any plate could hold. Desserts followed. Then we watched the Lions or Cowboys, some of us through closed eyelids.

Years later, those gatherings meant something different. My aunt had passed away. Family had drifted.

Holidays had changed.

During a trip back to Ohio, I decided to stop at my uncle’s house. I had not seen him in perhaps a decade. He spent much of his time in Florida, so I wasn’t sure he would be home. I mostly wanted to remember. To my surprise, he was there.

He was heading out, but we spent 30 minutes remembering together. He reminded me of things I had confidently announced as a child,
including, “I will never drive a minivan.” I had arrived in one.

We laughed. We remembered well. That visit could not restore those Thanksgivings. But it helped me honor the memory while recognizing the goodness of the life I was building with my own family. There were new traditions to create and more memories ahead.

We can give thanks for the past without requiring the future to look like it.

I wonder how many of our churches need space to discover that same freedom.

If you have followed this series, we began with shifting ground and the assurance that God is still building. We examined the systems that shape us, the different ways people experience change, and the capacity required to carry it faithfully. Most recently, we explored congregational culture and how yesterday’s solutions can become assumptions that limit tomorrow’s possibilities. Through each conversation, we have been asking what it means to move faithfully into a future we cannot yet fully see.

Our churches carry stories of courage, sacrifice, belonging, disappointment, and loss. We need opportunities to honor those stories and tell the truth about how they continue to shape us.

Meanwhile, the communities around us have changed. Our neighbors’ needs, their relationships with institutions, and the cultural assumptions surrounding church life may look different from those we once knew.

Remembering well can help us recognize what remains precious while becoming curious about what faithfulness requires now.

That is the kind of space we are creating through Blue Sky.

This fall, we will pilot a six-month Blue Sky Forum series with three churches in the Tidewater area. They will learn alongside one another while each congregation discerns its own faithful next steps.

These forums are being developed as a guided process for congregations to understand their story, gain clarity about their present circumstances, and imagine faithful next steps. Participants will explore how people experience change differently and examine the systems, capacity, and culture shaping their congregational life.

By bringing churches together, we also hope to create opportunities to learn from one another. Hearing another congregation’s story can help us recognize something in our own and remind us that we do not have to navigate this season alone.

The purpose of that clarity reaches beyond the church’s walls. How might the people, relationships, and resources entrusted to us serve our neighbors today? What might embodying the gospel look like in the community we now find around us?

Blue Sky is taking shape around these questions, helping each church remember honestly, listen carefully, dream again, and discern its next step.

The pilot will be a season of learning for us too. These congregations’ experiences will help us refine the process and shape what comes next. If your church recognizes itself in these conversations, I would welcome hearing your story as this work develops.

I left my uncle’s house grateful for what those Thanksgivings had given me. I returned home with a deeper appreciation for the traditions my own family was creating.

Our churches have new chapters to live too. May we remember with gratitude, grieve with honesty, and find the courage to love our neighbors in the season before us.

God is still building.

There is still blue sky ahead.

Rev. Michael Pumphrey is BGAV’s director of coaching.

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This article is the final in a series of six on leadership by Michael Pumphrey.

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