And Are We Yet Alive

This was written on Wednesday, June 10, 2015 but, 

because I didn't finish loading the photos before midnight, 

it will publish on June 11th.  

I have so many thoughts from my first day at Annual Conference.

I am the lay delegate for our local church so I’m actually at Conference

in an official position.

But I had to work hard to remember that for the first hour or so.

I have no idea why I thought so but I really did not think I would cry.

I should have known better.

I should know by now that the “firsts” always hit me hard.

Even if this particular “first” is 3 years and 8½ months out from Rob’s death.

See, the last time I was at Conference was in 2012 – the Conference when Rob was remembered in the Memorial Service as one of the clergy

who had passed away since the previous year.

I did okay at first today.

I even took photos of the “part of Rob” that I brought with me

(one of his Bibles)

and set on the table so that,

in a small way,

he would be with me.

Then something Bishop Ward said reminded me of the very first Conference I attended with my Rob way back in 1995 – the year he received his license to preach.

And then the tears fell like a gentle rain.

Those tears fell on and off all the way through the worship service

and especially as I watched my children take communion

in front of a Conference stage.

The significance of that really caught me by surprise.

Because there are

SO

MANY

MEMORIES

of their dad on a Conference stage…

from his very first license to preach year

to his commissioning year

to his ordination as an elder year.

I know my Rob would be so proud

and would be smiling if he could see his beautiful children

taking The Lord’s Supper in this setting!

I was.

And I was happy they were here for the opening worship service.

 (Love this photo even though I did catch Luke in a yawn)

I did think ahead of time about how I would feel

about my role at Annual Conference –

whether I would feel like a clergy’s daughter –

whether I would still feel like a clergy spouse –

whether I would still feel like a clergy widow –

whether I would actually feel like laity –

or whether I would feel like an actual lay delegate.

And well, the answer to that after day one,

is that I felt like all of the above

but not exactly belonging to any single one of them.

Running into folks who know my dad’s ministry;

running into folks who knew my Rob’s ministry;

running into folks who were Rob’s clergy peers;

and meeting our new pastor when he found us and

introduced himself (and talking with his pastor wife

who knew my Rob very well from the

Board of Ordained Ministry)

all meshed together to help form what I guess is

another new identity for me in this world of

my “new normal” in which I live.

And it’s actually okay.

In fact, it’s good.

I learned today that I will never fit into

or belong to just one of the roles.

For I am or have been

every

single

one

of

them…

…and I now hold all of those experiences in my mind and heart

TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME.

That makes me who I am

and places me exactly where God wants me to be.

And today,

when we sang the opening hymn

that is always sung at the opening of Conference

(And Are We Yet Alive)

I sang it with renewed zeal

because, even though my Rob is not,

I

AM

YET

ALIVE!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Photos from the day.

(Rob's favorite place to be at Conference-

the Cokesbury bookstore) 

 (Rob would have been proud of his kids for this too!)

(I have cousins everywhere - even at Conference!)

(Beverly, the lay delegate from one of our former churches.  

She gave both of my boys their first haircuts.)

(My cousin, David, and his wife, Charline)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What I wrote about Annual Conference last year and in 2012.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Annual Conference - A Clergy Widow's View

Annual Conference started today.

That statement alone brings so many thoughts, feelings, and emotions that it is impossible to name them all -

but they run the gamut from celebration to grief.

For most of my 46 years (first with my dad’s ministry and then with my late husband’s ministry), the events sealed at Annual Conference dictated the life I would lead for each year afterward.

And now, as I watch the live-stream of conference and feel the pull of familiar twinges of the goings on there, I realize yet once again that I am no longer part of that community.

And that, in itself, is sad.

Oh, I could still go to conference.

In fact, I was supposed to take my dad to the retirees’ luncheon but because I didn’t have anyone to stay with my mom, those plans fell through.

But even if I went to conference, it wouldn’t be the same.

Because he’s dead.

And although I rarely dwell on it anymore, the finality of it hits me anew at certain times 

– like now –

with conference going on in the present

and Father’s Day looming on the horizon in just 4 days.

I am very thankful for the years I had with my Rob

. 

I am thankful I know what it feels like to have been loved.

 

I am thankful we had our children – all 4 of them.

I am thankful that we had our ministry – at all 5 of his church appointments.

 

I am thankful that I am “yet alive,” relatively healthy,

and should be able to finish raising our children.

I am thankful that my children are happily living in their presents

and that they are living, full of hope, into their futures. 

I am thankful that God is good all of the time. 

I am thankful that God is present in the nightmares.

 

I am thankful God is present in the laughter.

 

I am thankful that God is present in the tears.

 

I am thankful that God is present in the joy.

 

I am thankful God was there at the Annual Conferences when 

Rob was licensed to preach,

when Rob became a local pastor, 

when Rob was commissioned, 

when Rob was ordained elder, 

and when Rob was memorialized at the clergy memorial service in 2012.

And I am thankful that God is present at Annual Conference 2014.

But today,
in this moment,
it just stings me to my very core

that Rob 

is not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last Annual Conference I attended was in 2012.  This is what I wrote on that day.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Ministry Life Cycle

For me, it now feels as if Rob's ministry life cycle is complete

and the ministry we had together is officially over forever.

We are no longer residents of a parsonage

and the last official service involving anything to do with my husband was today.

Today, at this year's Annual Conference, was the Memorial Service for all clergy who have died since last Annual Conference.

My father went with us.  My sister, brother-in-law, and my aunt met us there.

It took us a while to get anywhere because my father is popular and he kept being greeted by his friends.  My father was SO HAPPY to get to be at Conference and see his friends.  

As I walked in the convention center, the first thing I noticed was the Cokesbury book store arrow on the carpet.  It made me smile as I thought about how Rob would always come home from conference having spent WAY MORE than we could afford on books but always making sure that I knew my dad had paid for part of them.

During the service, my dad took notes.

My son, Luke, did this during the service.  

I wrote him a note saying "I love you."  He added a 2 that changed it to this.  It made me smile.

I was fine until the processional started.  I turned around to see the cross and staff being carried in (the staff was carried by my second cousin, David - who is also a UM minister).  

As I turned to see them walk in - it was as if all of the processionals Rob had been a part of flashed unbidden before my eyes -

his license to preach processional in the Western Conference

his local pastor processional in our Conference

his commissioning processional

and his processional when he was ordained Elder

I was there for all of them - even the time when I was still in the severe nausea stage of my pregnancy with Luke

I was there - watching and supporting my husband as he publicly went through all of the steps of ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church

And today, I was there in an unimaginable and extremely painful role - standing beside his children 

as his widow

still supporting the last official act involving his ministry.

As his name was called, a candle was lit in his memory.

I am still getting notes and letters about how my late husband's ministry touched people's lives and I expect that God will continue to use the good that my husband did.  But for me, the moment that candle was lit completed my late husband's ministry cycle.  And it was so sad.

After the service and the luncheon, the boys enjoyed the escalators.

And we were all tired and ready to be home.

Robert Edward Shelton

Jan. 18, 1959 - Sept. 20, 2011

Ministry Life

June 1995 - Sept. 20, 2011