FRANKLIN, TN — Every Sunday at 7:42 a.m., before the associate pastor has finished his second cup of coffee and eighteen minutes before the first car turns into the lot, I place the cones. Eleven of them. In a configuration I developed over three years of observation, two failed experiments, and one catastrophic Easter Sunday that we do not discuss.

No one has ever asked about the configuration. No one has ever said, “Gerald, why is cone seven offset fourteen inches from the drainage line?” They just pull in, find a spot, and walk into worship without a second thought. That is, I have come to understand, the point.

I tried explaining the system once to my wife, Donna. She listened for six minutes and then asked if I wanted decaf. I did not want decaf. I wanted her to understand that without the secondary funnel pattern I introduced in 2019, the left handicap lane backs into the fire road and we lose twelve spots on the east side. Twelve spots. That is a small group's worth of souls who might have turned around.

“The cones are not about traffic flow. The cones are about love. Organized, cone-based love.”

Ted Garland, 61, the head of facilities, acknowledged my contribution once in 2021 when he said, “Oh, are those your cones?” I have thought about that sentence nearly every day since.

I am not looking for recognition. I am looking for someone — anyone — to ask about cone seven.

At press time, a visitor had moved cone seven to take a selfie, and I was handling it.