John Corson's Blog

for November 15, 2021


I am in no mood to write or talk. Literally I am wiped out.

How is it that a little dog can become such an object of love that when he passes, his owner/master becomes useless?

Throughout the day today, I have had little distractions. If God is putting them before me, then it must be to keep me pre-occupied. But I don't think it is God. These distractions are from people needing something from me. They are asking for help from me, when now, damn it, I need help.

It is said that a pastor's world is a lonely self-fix it world. It is lonely in that he has no one to turn to (other than fellow pastors) who would understand his plight; who would be able, through empathy, to appreciate what he is going through. He is supposed to have all the spiritual and emotional answers for everyone under his care in the church. The only advise most church members can and are able to give is useless or, most often, not applicable.

I am at the state where I am calling on people who might understand: My son in Florida, but his dogs were and are working dogs. They are there to protect the house, not to be a pet and certainly not to be seen as an adopted son or daughter. I called one of my Deacons last night and although he and his wife have never had pets, he was at least there to hear me cry, only to say, I can listen, but I don't understand because I have never been in your position."

I need someone to talk to. I can only vent here, and there is really no one out there who reads these posts. Let's be logical here. This blog is for therapy and venting. It has done some good. But it is no good now for what I am experiencing. In fact, as I type these words, I feel no relief. I feel no comfort. All I want to do is chuck it all. Maybe take a break and mourn for awhile.

I sat outside at Reggie's resing place last night. He is lying next to Princess. I talked to them both. I cried at least a pint of tears. I listened to the piano music we both listened to when we were together and I in a reflicting mood. It was that music I spoke of yesterday: Piano Impressions by Owen Richards. I lost it. There are ten songs on that album. When each one started to play I started to cry.


It is not that I am burned out. I have been burned out for about three years now. Burned out with church and the lack of ministries and help. Burned out with trying to fix broken areas and old programs the church used to have and now no longer does due to changing times and the lack of interest.

Do you know I used to come home and talk to Reggie about it a lot. I couldn't talk to Janice because it is next to impossible for her to be objective. She is living through it with me; just as she is with the passing of Reggie. Reggie was my confidant and although he never gave me answers, he sure was a good listener.

I write these words knowing that if there were readers out there they may not answer or have an answer to pass along. But I do know that if someone, anyone, were to read these words I would know someone out there is listening.

Tomorrow, I have a lot of reports to prepare, a lot of administrative stuff to get done as it is the end of the church year and we have our Annual Church Conference the next evening. It will be during that meeting that I am expected to be at my best and my mind working without destractions I attempt to plot a strategy to keep the church going and looking positively ahead to the future. "Positive" being the operative word.

At this juncture, I don't see how I am going to make it. This has been over the last eleven years, the busiest time for the church. Maybe not for most or all of the people. But it is for me. But I am at this palce where I have given and given and given until I am given out! I have nothing left to offer.

This morning while on my way to the church office - without Reggie - I got a call from Mark, my preacher friend. He did not call to ask how I was doing. For all I know, he doesn't know about Reggie's passing as I have not announced to the world. Oh, wait a minute! I did announce it on Facebook. I placed a couple of pictures of him up there and said: "Well, Reggie has gone to the Rainbow Bridge and is playing with Princess once again. He was, is and always will be my Buddy!"

And he was my buddy! Just look at the picture above of the two of us, just sitting on the deck, looking out at whatever. We were tight.

If you have read a few of my posts over the last fourteen months, you would have seen places where I allude to my church. A lot of the time it is negative. I am not cutting down or maligning any one person in this church. I do point out the few who are obnoxious, demanding, lack understanding and certainly have no sympathy with the plight of me, or any other pastor they have had in the past. When I talk about these things and these people, it is merely venting. What I have a problem with is the endless beating of my head against the proverbial brick wall over my inability to do anything for these people without making them totally - I do mean totally - dependent on me to do everything. Maybe the job was too big for me to begin with.

I know I should have done whatever I could to stay in radio. I wish I were there now. I just want to sit alone in a studio playing music and talkin to anyone out there who appreciates the music and enjoys what I play and say.

I am sitting here in my church office. I layed out Reggies mat which I keep under my desk on a book ledge there. I just spawled them out in a rumpled up manner for that is what he would do if I just laid them out nicely for him. He insisted on working those mats and the towels we laid out for him at home; crumbling them up so that he would lay to his comfort on them. Janice and I would laugh for minutes on end over his antics moving those items around to suit him before he would quiet down and go to sleep.

Well, Buddy, they are crumpled up for you. Would you just come back for a few minutes and try them out to see if they are to your satisfaction? A God! Here come those tears.

This is ridiculous. I there anyone out there reading these words? I need some one to help me through this mess. It is not just Reggie's passing. It is a culmination of things that have gone wrong since the end of summer, 2016. First there were the unsurmountable complaints about the head of our Awanas program at church. The lack of cooperation with her as she and I tried to salvage what we thought was a successful program. With no one willing to work it, she resigned and left the church. In the process, one of our most helpful deacons resigned, basically over a misunderstanding of who she was (as an outsider) and what she was trying to do. She was also a teacher over at our daycare and preschool which, two years later, was closed down.

That, too contributes to the many things gone wrong. The pre-school was loosing money and the reality was that all of the workers and teachers there were not members of the church, nor even attended. By the last year of its operation, none of the children or their parents attended. So, in reality there was no real connection between this ministry and the church any longer. It was closed August 31, 2018.

By this time, we had no children, no youth attending the church. The teen program had a bad split between two young ladies, both Juniors in high school at the time. Half the group went with one, the other half with the other. Both assuming the other was staying with Windsor Baptist when in reality one went to Tucker Swamp Baptist while the other went over to Elevate. We lost them ALL!

To add to the ending of the AWANA program for kids ages 3 to 11, in 2016, the following summer saw our last Vacation Bible School program. That was 2017. The teens split in the Spring of 2018, the Daycare/Pre-School closed later that year and in the summer of 2019 the last two kids, boys who were grandchildren of one of our elderly couples, stopped coming to Sunday School. Along with that, the grandmother of the two, who was our last regular Adult Sunday School teacher, resigned. So since the Fall of 2019, we have had no Sunday School. The last remaining Sunday School teacher, the one who prepared and taught lessons to those two boys had no one to teach so there was literally no more Sunday School - at all. I would like to blame that on Covid for it was just five months or so later that the pandemic broke out and we stopped having all services on March 22, 2020.

The fact of the matter is that no one wants to do anything that required sacrifice or to venture outside of their comfort zone. I am serving a dying church. No one can help me with that.

Death seems to be all around me. My buddy is dead, my church is dying, and just last week, a man - also named Reggie, who was the Deacon chairman in a church I served as Interim and from whom I learn good lessons in patience and humility - passed away. His death was just ten days after the passing of his wife. Jeanine died of a heart attack, all of a sudden and without warning. Reggie was suffering from latter stage liver cancer and didn't want to prolong his life with expensive chemo, only to live in pain for what? Two to four extra months. I was expected that Jeanine would care for him in the end, but it was not to be. Reggie lived out his last week-and-a-half with his two sons and daughter by his side. He was a very Godly man, one from whom I could have learned more but I lost contact with him a couple of years after coming to Windsor Baptist. He was the last of who I considered to be mentors.

So let me spell it out for you. I have had five miserable years of being surrounding by disappointments, negativity, decline, lack of cooperation, and death. I have no idea what Jesus was feeling or thinking when in the last half of the 6th chapter of John, a whole throng of people who came out for Him to perform more miracles and to feed them, as He did the day before with five loaves and two fish, only to have those numbers to dwindle down to just twelve. And that happened in just one day!

But one thing that is for sure with me, I feel alone, and with the exception of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemene on the night of His betrayal, all I can say is that at least Jesus had His twelve. I had Reggie. Janice, of course, would never leave me as she is my dedicated and devoted wife. But then again, she is not objective here. Reggie is gone and I am alone. Plain and simple.

I am going to stop blogging for a while and see if I can find some healing somewhere else. Writing is good therapy, but I find that since no one reads or responds to these rants that the therapy has its limits. It's not that I expect someone to respond. But, after all, I leave a link to my email address below each posted blog so that if anyone reads them, they can respond. Is there anyone out there who reads this one? I will leave this one up for awhile, at least until I can find some answers. Maybe you have them.

So, on this, my last posted blog, I go to find some peace somewhere, not having to worry about posting - on time - another rant. The picture above of Reggie and I has been on this blog since its beginning. It's on the home page. There was symbolism in it. Two pals just sitting together, communicating without knowing truly what the other was saying, but at peace knowing we were together. He was at my side, now he is no longer. I am reminded by the nurse and technician at the Cove Animal Hospital that he may no longer be at my side, but he is in my heart. I know this to be true, but tell me how that can be since my heart is broken and has no place to hold him?

The End!

Blog for November 14 Blog for November 19


Blogs are about the blogger. It's as if he or she merely toots their own horns about the things they do, say and love.

My life is boring. I read, I watch Glenn Beck and Mark Levin. I listen to Andrew Wilkow. I engage in some conversation with those who are willing to listen (they being masochistic and enjoy killing themselves with my banter).

I plan on just laying out the things that bother me and the things I love. Nothing in-between. I hope you find whatever I put here amusing.