“I’d rather be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord.”

(Psalm 84:10a, English Standard Version)

As many folks do after settling into retirement, I realized I still wanted some type of  predictable schedule after 30 years in education so I would not turn into a blob–at least not a complete one.  I began looking around for the odd job here or there and spotted one that caught my eye: a Visitor Relations Assistant (VRA) at the Duke Chapel  on the campus of Duke University. Although they didn’t need me at the time, I received a call a year later asking if I was still interested. I did not hesitate to say that I was. 

On the morning  of my interview, upon  entering one of the four,  12 foot oak doors at the entrance to the  Gothic stone edifice, I told the VRA on duty I was there to apply for a position as a tour guide. She politely informed me that I was there to apply for a job as a   “Visitor Relations Assistant.”  It does help to know what position one is applying for, so I agreed with her and proceeded to my interview with the gentleman who had contacted me. 

After updating my application and waiting for the wheels of HR to spin, I  officially got the job. The irony of landing  a position  at Duke is  that my three children and two daughters in law all have degrees from UNC.  They reminded me that I could work for Duke but I could not become a Duke fan.  I suspect that they are not kidding. 

Not long ago, I surprisingly  found a letter that I had written to myself over five decades ago,  in the sixth grade at Jackson Park Elementary School in Kannapolis. Our teacher must have asked us to write a letter to ourselves, imagining   what we  thought we might do “when we grew up.” That long lost assignment had somehow miraculously  surfaced at my mom’s house in an old manila folder. She never threw any of our important work away–or newspaper clippings–or  Polaroid photographs. And after raising 7 children and being in the same home for 67 years, that’s quite a bit of archived information!   

I  predicted at age 12 that I would work at Duke one day as a history professor. Why I said I would teach at Duke I have no idea but that’s what my sixth grade self predicted. When I realized that I would become part of a team who welcome the 600 plus  visitors to Duke Chapel on a daily basis, along with answering an occasional question about its history, I figured that was the closest I would come to fulfilling my youthful prophecy. And even though the most frequent inquiry seems to be, “Where is the bathroom?” I am quickly learning how to help visitors appreciate the  storied history of one of North Carolina’s most prestigious landmarks. 

Often someone will ask me what my position is. I’m not a history professor, not even close, but I am able to discuss history,  along with  art, literature, music, and theology as those topics arise. 

 I’m not a security guard, although I do have multiple sets of keys which allow me  to unlock the building in the morning and lock it up again at night. I’m not a chaplain, although my heart is often  prayerfully touched by anxious families and individuals, many of whom are seeking a quick respite from medical concerns and treatment of loved ones at the Duke Medical Center which is within walking distance.  And even though I’m not technically a Blue Devil fan, I am a big fan of Duke Chapel. Who wouldn’t be  when surrounded by multiple pipe organs, 77 stained glass windows, and  a 210 foot tower which houses a  hand-played carillon? 

 I might simply  be known as  a “Visitor Relations Assistant” but witnessing countless faces  of awe and wonder  when they  first  step into the nave and gaze  291 feet heavenward, I am reminded of those who were called “doorkeepers” in the Old Testament–the ones who unlocked and locked the Temple in Jerusalem  each day for worshippers. I now fully appreciate  the crafted words of  the English poet Thomas Gray: “… through the  long drawn aisle and fretted vault, the pealing anthem swells the note of praise.” 

At 68, I’ve learned once again that some dreams take on different forms. I think my 12-year-old self would be glad. 

Larry Efird retired from teaching in Kannapolis City Schools.