This is a collection of memories. I brainstormed all week and put down in words what I wanted to say to Randall Allen (9/10/59—2/22/2026), but I probably wouldn’t have been able to make it through two sentences. And sometimes, when I get into that emotional place, the best thing I can do is to get outside, whatever the weather. This tribute paints a picture of a man whose generosity wasn’t just an act but a state of being. If there were a stipulation to “No, the dead know nothing,” it would be “except at their memorial to hear their tributes.”
○○○ A Tribute to Randall Allen: A Harvest of Goodwill ○○○
The Shadow and the Light
I have often asked myself: When will Randall’s goodwill expire? Our journey with Randall and Pam Allen is marked by the celestial and the terrestrial. On August 21, 2017, the Total Solar Eclipse plunged the world into six minutes and twenty-three seconds of astonishing darkness. For our family, that day marked a transition — the move from God’s Farm to Randall Allen’s Farm.
God’s Farm: The Beginning of a History
When will Randall’s goodwill expire? Our history with the Allens began in 2016 in Carroll County, GA, at God’s Farm. I remember the first time we met Randall; he arrived with his daughter, Sophia, and a crew of ten tree planters from Honduras to clear property for us. It was my birthday. We made Salt Spring Tacos in the camp kitchen for everyone, and we ate in the camp pavillion. His crew sang “Happy Birthday” to me in Spanish. But that was just the beginning of our walk together. From that moment, his spirit of service was clear.
The Church: A Faithful Affirmation
When will Randall’s goodwill expire? To think of Pam and Randall is to think of the church. Randall and Pam purchased and donated the property used to build our new church building in March 2024 https://stacyreneesweeney.com/2024/03/03/hagia-sophia. Randall had an eye for choosing land and land development. He was the head elder and the “last man standing” at every potluck — the same man who would bring potato salad made with fresh eggs from his own beautiful hen house.
I remember his Sabbath School teachings and the meaningful true stories he shared. He’d always deliver something amazing. The story I remember most was the 2018 rescue of twelve boys and their coach from the Tham Luang cave in Thailan. The expert rescuers determined that the only viable option for survival was for the boys and coach to be unconscious and carried out by experienced divers. The true story is a meaningful allegory to consider.
As a new Seventh Day Adventist, I once made a comment on the call to worship f ound in Revelation 14:7. Randall looked at me and said, “I believe the same thing.” For a believer like Randall, this doctrine wasn’t about fear; it was about the vindication of God’s character and the promise that God is making all things right. It was just one of those small things, but it stuck with me. I believe he was an angel.
It was a profound affirmation, something that bonded us. He had this extraordinary ability to lift up those around him, always attuned to what others needed. He could make anyone feel like the best version of themselves. He didn’t have to do those things. But he always did. And that was his magic.
I dreamed about Randall, at least a dozen times. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because he was an angel. Maybe it was scripture. Maybe it was because he accompanied my boys to Medellin, Columbia to Rionegro, Columbia to
Melgar, Columbia to Manizales Columbia to Ibague, Columbia to Peru to the Amazon to San Andres, Columbia to
Belize City. Belize on a two week mission trip in January, 2023. I monitored their live flight tracking on the FlightAware app.
To fly across massive bodies of water to another country, to be involved in something bigger than themselves, to be channels of Gods working was a positive experience all around. I felt need of divine help in praying constantly for their safety and provision and return home.
The Allen Farm: A Sanctuary of Peace
When will Randall’s goodwill expire? We were always invited to the steady exchange, to the dedication of staying connected, and of breaking bread together at his home on holidays and special Sabbaths. The real joy was always in the sharing. When asked what he would miss most about playing basketball for Boston College, the athlete put his head down to cry and said, “Going out to eat.”
From the window of our second-story barn apartment, I would watch for his truck, often loaded with new farm equipment and side-by-sides.
On Sabbath afternoons, he would take my husband and boys to ride 4-wheelers through the Chattahoochee National Forest bordering his farm.
He didn’t just share his land; he shared his life. He told us we could live there until Jesus returned. I believed he was an angel. We lived on the Allen Farm for two years.
UCLife: The Artist of Foundations
When will Randall’s goodwill expire? Randall was an artist whose medium was the earth and stone, his tools a palette and palette knife. When he laid the block foundation for our bunkhouse in March 2023, he worked with the precision of a painter, wearing his hat backward and his signature white t-shirt. He must have wore a new t-shirt every day in order to keep that shirt white, or maybe he was an angel.
He loaned us his excavator, in November 2024, letting my boys, Caiden and Keller, sharpen their skills of operating heavy machinery for our wells and driveways.
His support for Urban Community Life was unmatched. Out of 50 donations in 2025, Pam and Randall gave three times. That generosity still moves me.
I had just sent out a batch of hand painted watercolor thank-you cards on Friday, February 20, 2026. I never knew how timely those final words of gratitude would be.
Unambiguous Loss
When will Randall’s goodwill expire? In many ways, a heart attack was a fitting way for Randall to leave us — not because it’s the leading cause of death, not because death comes to all, but he simply had a full and thankful heart. He loved unconditionally and without expectation.
Losing Randall is an unambiguous loss during an already difficult season. But as we keep walking, we lean on the promise that the God of Resurrection sees our faithfulness, even in winter when the ground is cold and hard and wet, and you can see your breath.
We remember that seeds must die for flowers to arrive and that things buried will ultimately come back. An Easter harvest is on the horizon. “The dawn will rise, weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning,”
//Psalm 30:5
This week, the early spring snowdrops and daffodils are well supplied in the pastures and along Gore-Subligna Road. They stand as a silent guard for a man who was always helping others, regardless of his own burdens. “I Believe in Spring Time” by John Rutter and The Cambridge Singers sing with me like a musical memory point, one that plays mental scenes of springtime, giving me a memory of the kind of love that I never imagined possible, the love that transformed my very ordinary life into something extraordinary.
“I believe in springtime: fresh and new and bright;
I believe in morning dew and shining morning light
I believe in sunbeams, melting all the snow;
And I believe when winter’s done
The streams will run and rivers flow
I believe in eagles soaring up so high;
I believe in trees and mountains reaching to the sky
I believe in green things; all the gifts of earth;
Growing up from tiny seeds that spring has brought to birth
I believe in summer; I believe in fall:
But most of all I believe in God
Who made it and blessed it all
I believe in people, living all as one;
Sharing all their songs and laughter, happiness and fun;
I believe in friendship: taking time to care;
And feeling sure of someone else
And someone feeling glad you’re there
Then I start to wonder how it all might be
If the world could live together just like you and me
I believe in hoping; I believe in prayer;
I believe in trying hard and learning how to share
I believe in dreaming; and, when dreams are through
Then I believe in trusting God
To help me make dreams come true”
https://open.spotify.com/track/7a0XKO1PIj4ryRLSxh1beg
The Door Held Open
The last time I saw him was last Sabbath. True to his nature, he was holding the door to the Sanctuary open for me. He was always opening doors and always a step ahead of me, and I was more than happy to let him lead the way. I believe he was an angel.
Our family loved Randall Allen deeply. He is no longer running his race. His earthly goodwill finally expired on Sunday, February 22, 2026 — but the seeds he buried in our hearts will bloom, find their way to the light, and show their smile.
I am preparing to create an original 20″x30″ art piece in Randall’s honor to be hung in our new church lobby. He and Pam were instrumental in making worship a reality.
When I want color to explode, I use transparent colors like Burnt Sienna, SAP, Viridian and Thaylo blue. Trasparents work when surrounded by opaques or vice versa – an opaque white boat in transarent blue-green water.
This not only creates high contrast in value but also adds depth and dimensionality to the painting through the interplay between thick and thin paint, an irrededescent quality that seem to change when seen from different angles and as the painting ages.
And I still can’t believe he’s not here to enjoy the sight and inhale the fragrance of the daffodills. The pain of losing Randall would make it palpable, but as the old saying goes, “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” // Alfred, Lord Tennyson
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