Some people leave this world quietly. Others leave footprints that remain long after they're gone.
On Monday, July 27, Pastor Cole Meckle entered into the presence of the Lord after a courageous battle with terminal cancer.
He leaves behind a loving family, a grateful congregation at The Gather Church in Centralia, and a community made better because he lived among us.
I first met Cole shortly after Connie and I moved to Lewis County when I accepted the position as president and CEO of Cascade Community Healthcare. We agreed to meet for coffee, and as often happens over a cup of coffee, strangers became acquaintances and acquaintances became friends.
Cole and I came from somewhat different perspectives on several issues involving behavioral health treatment. We had honest conversations and occasionally found ourselves on opposite sides of those discussions. Yet, I never questioned his sincerity or his desire to do what he believed was best for the people he served. I hope he felt the same about me.
Our last coffee together was in 2025.
It wasn't a meeting about policies or programs. It wasn't about solving the world's problems. It was simply two pastors sitting across from one another, sharing life.
Although I had transitioned from leading a local church into behavioral health leadership years earlier, I have never stopped thinking of myself as a pastor at heart. That calling has simply found different expressions over the years. Cole understood that. He was faithfully serving as pastor of Gather Church in Centralia, carrying the joys, burdens, celebrations and heartaches that come with shepherding God's people.
That afternoon, we talked about faith, ministry, family and people. We shared stories that only pastors truly understand — the privilege of walking with people through weddings, funerals, victories, disappointments and seasons when life simply doesn't seem fair.
Somewhere during our conversation I smiled and said, "Cole, you ought to start a radio show called Coffee with Cole."
He laughed.
"I kind of like the ring of that," he replied.
We both laughed together.
It was a simple moment. At the time, it seemed ordinary. Looking back now, it has become one of those memories that reminds me how precious ordinary moments really are. We never know which conversation will be our last.
As I drove away that day, I remember thinking less about the issues where we occasionally disagreed and more about the man sitting across from me. I had spent time with someone who genuinely loved people. Whether he was preaching on Sunday morning, meeting with someone in crisis, or simply sharing a cup of coffee, his heart for people was unmistakable.
Cancer has a cruel way of shortening conversations we always assume we'll have again. It reminds us that "someday" is a promise none of us has been given.
Cole fought his battle with courage, dignity and faith. Even in the midst of his illness, his witness spoke volumes about the hope he carried. Now his race is finished, his suffering has ended, and those who knew him are left with gratitude for having shared part of the journey.
One of the lessons I take away from knowing Cole is that relationships matter more than arguments. We live in a culture that often encourages us to define people by where we disagree with them. But life has taught me something different. Some of the richest conversations happen with people who don't think exactly like we do. Respect doesn't require complete agreement. Friendship doesn't require uniformity. Sometimes all it requires is two people willing to sit down over a cup of coffee and truly listen.
If there's anything I'd say to readers today, it's this: don't wait for the perfect opportunity to tell someone you appreciate them. Make the phone call. Invite them to coffee. Share a laugh. Encourage a friend. Those simple moments have a way of becoming life's most treasured memories.
Rest well, Pastor Cole.
Thank you for serving your congregation so faithfully.
Thank you for loving this community.
And thank you for reminding me that while ministry certainly involves convictions, at its very best it is about loving people well. I'll always smile when I think about Coffee with Cole. Somehow, I think it would have been a pretty good show.
Porch Blessing
May we never become so convinced that we stop listening. May we never become so busy that we neglect one more cup of coffee with a friend. May we have the courage to disagree with kindness, the wisdom to value people above opinions, and the grace to leave others feeling seen, heard, and loved.
And when our own journey comes to its close, may those who gather to remember us smile not only because of what we believed, but because of the way we treated people along the way.
Blessings.
Dr. Richard J. Stride is a CEO of a local behavioral health agency. He can be reached at docrs53@gmail.com.
