Janna's View: 2023

Friday, December 29, 2023

Merry Christmas 2023!

From The Janna Shelton Family,

Merry Christmas 2023!!!

(a few days late)

Saturday, December 2, 2023

21

My Luke is 21 today!

Happy Birthday, Luke Edward!

I love you!

Sunday, November 26, 2023

Luke singing "O What A Savior" (November 26, 2023)

Luke singing

"O What A Savior"

by Marvin P. Dalton

November 26, 2023

Friday, November 17, 2023

80

My mama

(Jackie Sue Beck Caviness)

is 80 years old today.

I think today is the perfect day

to post the poem she wrote

for the pastors' spouse luncheon

at Annual Conference

(year unknown).

She is such a great writer!

I love this poem.

And I always loved

her perfect handwriting

so I'm posting her poem

in her own handwriting.

I hope you enjoy her poem

as much as I do every time I read it.

Thursday, November 16, 2023

Luke Shelton: Berenice -Tra I ceppi November 13, 2023

So proud of him!

Luke's Vocal Performance Studio Recital

Fall 2023 Junior Year

from Berenice - Tra I ceppi by G.F. Handel

(sorry for the bad video at times -

I had my eye on Luke and not the camera)

Monday, September 25, 2023

Joy Revisited

There's so much that can be written

about finding

JOY after sorrow

but I think I wrote it best in 2016

so here is a revisit to that post.

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

Friday, September 25, 2020

Finding JOY

9 years ago today

was the memorial service

at the church where my Rob was the pastor

at the time of his death.

For those who are new to my blog

and new to our story

and to remind me to ALWAYS seek JOY,

I am reposting what I wrote (in 2016) about that day.

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

The following was written on

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2016.

……………………………………………………………..

(This photo was taken on Sunday, September 25, 2011).

I knew today, September 25, 2016, would be hard…

…and I was right.

Last night, as I was getting clothes ready for church today,

the memories started flooding in…

…of 5 years ago

on the Saturday night after Rob’s death…

…the sounds of my kids and my nieces and nephews in the living room…

…and telling God that He was going to have to help me get through the next day.

So, last night, I asked God to help me get through today and

I determined that

would

purposely

try

find

JOY

all day long.

Not to drown out the memories

but to at least try to temper them.

For those who do not know,

my late husband was a minister.

5 years ago today was the memorial service

for my Rob held at the church where he was serving

and where we were living at the time of his death.

It was held during the 11 a.m worship service.

So many church members could not

make it to the out of town funeral

two days before.

The church needed to grieve.

And the kids and I needed to grieve with them.

We had much in common.

We were church family.

They had lost their pastor.

So had the kids and I.

Their future was uncertain.

So was ours.

I knew, though, that this memorial service was about more

than just grieving Rev. Robert Edward Shelton.

I had been involved in ministry long enough to know

that it was also the first step in corporate (group) healing.

We not only needed to all grieve together.

We also needed to all take the next step forward together.

Resuming worship.

And that’s exactly what we did.

I lovingly placed my Rob’s clergy robe and some of his stoles on one side of the altar.

A large photo of him was placed on the other side...

...in front of the pulpit.

There were beautiful flowers.

There was beautiful music.

I thought of 1 Corinthians Chapter 13

- the “love” chapter -

as I entered the church that morning...

...and how love truly does endure all things -

even going through the death of my beloved.

It was so difficult as I first glanced at the pulpit that morning.

The one Rob had stood in front of for 4 years and 3 months.

And remembering once again

that he really was dead.

Maybe only other widows/widowers will understand this.

It’s not like we ever forget our spouses are dead.

But there are certain times

(especially at only 5 days into it)

that it just hits us anew

that they’re really dead.

The district superintendent spoke at the service

and gave anyone there that day the chance to speak as well.

So many did and it was so comforting.

I don’t remember how much I did or did not cry during the service itself.

I remember the D.S. spoke on “last words.”

And we do know Rob’s last words.

Before he fell asleep with the boys while settling them down to bed,

Rob and his sons said The Lord’s Prayer together as they did every night

and the last words anyone heard Rob say were

“Good night, Wesley. I love you.”

“Good night, Luke. I love you.”

I remember watching my children intently as the D.S. spoke.

I remember watching the pulpit intently.

I remember looking at all the beautiful stained glass windows,

especially the front one,

and at the woodwork and intricate light fixtures in that church.

I had often thought about how much those light fixtures

look like the ones at the church where Rob and I were married.

And I remember turning to look at each other person who spoke.

At this point, I still felt like the preacher’s wife for this church.

I knew in my head that I was not.

But, only 5 days into it,

my heart had not caught up to that fact yet.

I remember that, as I sat there, I prayed for

“my church folks.”

So many of them were crying.

They were missing my Rob.

They were missing THEIR Rob.

My heart hurt for them.

I remember praying for whoever would fill their pulpit…

…not only the immediate interim pastor

but also who would be appointed the next June.

And I prayed for healing for us all.

After the service, the kids and I decided to take one more

“family” picture with the photo of Rob.

I remember one of the kids asking,

“Do we smile for this?”

The answer was,

“Well, he is smiling in the photo so I guess we do too.”

So we all did, except my Luke.

My then 8 year old Luke was the only one who looks like we all felt.

But I’m so happy we took it

because seeing this photo comforts me now.

I don’t look at it often but when I do,

I love the “humanness” shown in it.

I see my Luke’s necktie thrown halfway back on to his already unbuttoned shirt.

I see a little bit of my Rob’s stoles on the left side of the photo.

I see the pulpit on the right side of it.

I see the altar where Rob last served us communion.

I see the baptismal font to the left,

and the extinguished candle

and cross behind us.

All of which were/are symbolic to me and

were/are such a part of our family’s life and ministry.

I see the way we, as a family, clung together in those first days.

I see the missingness in our eyes right along with

the resolve to keep his memory alive

and a part of us as a family unit.

I see that we were forever changed.

But that we were going to be okay.

Mostly though,

I see love.

How much we had.

How hard it was to lose it.

How much we still had.

And those are the thoughts and memories from my past

that I tried to remember today

as I walked through my present.

The JOY from being loved by my Rob

that I will forever carry in my heart.

The JOY from being a part of his family

that I am still experiencing every day.

(All 4 of his children sure are some great kids)!

The JOY from being part of his job

and knowing that I will forever be blessed that I was

a certain preacher’s wife for 5 different congregations

(all of whom have remained in my heart)!

As I got ready for church this morning, I found JOY in the sounds of my kids and my nieces, nephew, and cousins getting ready for church, too.

(They were in town for a family birthday party).

At church, I found JOY as I walked in and looked around

at the beautiful stained glass windows, woodwork, and the intricate light fixtures at the church I now attend. This church’s light fixtures also look like the ones at the church where Rob and I were married.

I found JOY as I saw the front of the bulletin and was instantly reminded of the many times Rob and I sang the song,

“Lord, You Have Come To The Lakeshore.”

I found JOY as I watched Anna, Wesley, and Luke being a part of the service yesterday

– Wesley and Luke as ushers – Anna in the choir.

Their dad would be proud.

I found JOY as I listened to Mr. Jimmie lead and sing, with vigor,

the JOY down in my heart song.

I found JOY as I listened to my Wesley (and his friend, Corey) sing

“In The Eye Of The Storm.” They did a great job!

I found JOY knowing that God has been my Anchor and has been present with me every single time I’ve been in the eye of the storm.

I found JOY as I was watching a 4 year old young boy listen to them sing...

...and knowing that my son is being a role model for those younger than him.

I found JOY as I watched the little children at Children’s Time. They are always so cute!

And I almost laughed out loud as I found JOY when the preacher started preaching and was preaching on JOY – in all circumstances!

I had been so intently focusing on finding JOY in the moment and not focusing on the memories that were marching through my mind during this worship service that I had not even realized that his sermon title was “JOY, Living Content Lives!”

(I was listening so intently by this point that I didn't even think to get a photo of the preacher)!

I’ll be honest and say that I did cry during church today.

Finding and choosing JOY while memories of sorrow are flooding in

is difficult at best

The memories overwhelmed me for a few minutes during the offertory

but I tried to even find the JOY in that.

The tears reminded me that my heart has not hardened.

And those feelings of sorrow were, once again,

tempered with feelings of gratitude

that my love story with my Rob

happened at all.

As I’ve said many times,

I was blessed.

And that thought brings me JOY.

I will end with a short conversation I had last week with my Wesley

that definitely made me smile and gave me JOY.

I simply loved his perspective!

Not long after Rob died, I bought a front license plate for my vehicle

that simply says JOY.

I needed and wanted to always know and be reminded that

JOY was in front of me

no matter what my current situation was

and that I could carry JOY with me wherever I went.

As the boys and I were walking to the car last week,

I noticed a fallen leaf stuck to my front JOY plate.

I jokingly said,

“Look at that leaf trying to get in the way of my JOY.”

Wesley quickly replied,

“Or be a part of it, Mom.”

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

James 1: 2-4

Consider it all JOY, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing

Romans 5: 3-4

And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope.

Saturday, September 23, 2023

Etched In Memory

September 23, 2011

(and the night before)

will

forever remain

etched

my memory.

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

What I have written in years past:

(and, if you make it to the end, there's a couple of current 2023 photos of my children)

*******************

Friday, September 23, 2022

September 23rd

Today is September 23, 2022,

11 years since the day of Rob's funeral.

Luke got home from college early today and

my sons are hanging out together right now in our living room.

Enjoying being in each other's company.

Enjoying life.

And I'm enjoying listening to them!

11 years ago today, they were together at their daddy's grave.

It's a memory I will never forget.

Our four children have gone through a lot in 11 years.

They're not the only ones in the world to have experienced loss

but they're the four that I've watched go through it

and live with it.

And I still hate that they had to lose their daddy

and have to live without him daily.

There is nothing harder than watching your children in pain.

They clung to each other from the beginning

and they still do.

I am thankful they have had each other and

I am thankful that they are as good as they are.

And I am thankful that they will always know that

their daddy loved them beyond measure!

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

Here is what I wrote about them last year

and then what I have written in previous years if you'd like to read those posts.

Thursday, September 23, 2021

Children's Time At Rob's Funeral

Ten years ago was my Rob’s funeral.

I’ve written a lot about my feelings that day

and I will repost that with this

but what broke my heart the most that day

was watching our children.

It is what still,

to this day,

breaks my heart the most.

We had a “Children’s Time” at Rob’s funeral.

Leading Children’s Time

was one of Rob’s favorite parts of the worship service.

He loved telling the children about Jesus.

He had a collection of puppets

and he could mimic any voice he ever heard.

He also played guitar

and knew lots of silly songs.

All of this made for wonderful moments

with the children at our churches.

So, in memory of that,

we had Children’s Time at his funeral.

Our 4 children,

one of them grown,

one of them at age 15,

one of them at age 11,

one of them at age 8,

all stood together at the pulpit,

right over their daddy’s casket,

and took turns reading a book titled

“I Love You Because You’re You.”

Which is exactly what I wanted

them to “hear”

their daddy saying to them

in this special Children’s Time.

It was so true.

Rob loved his children

no matter what.

I will never forget that Children’s Time

I watched our children being so open to being brave

by reading at their daddy’s funeral

yet being so open to tears of the raw emotion

of missing their daddy.

It all pointed to the love felt

between a father and his children.

I was proud of them that day.

Rob would have been proud of them that day.

But even more,

I am proud of them for living the last 10 years

and not collapsing under the weight of

being without their daddy.

For it is a heavy burden to bear

and to carry with you through life.

Each one of them

has his or her own mourning and grief story.

And none of those are my stories to tell.

But I can and will say that they have all managed

to carry their father’s death and not having him here

without letting it cripple their presents or their futures.

And he would be so happy to know that,

as heavy as it’s been for them at times,

there has also been great joy

in each one of their lives.

Ten years is a long time.

A lot of life is lived in 10 years.

And they have all been living

and growing

and missing

and loving

and joying

and moving forward

(not moving ON

– there’s a huge difference between moving ON

and moving FORWARD).

I am proud of all 4 of them.

They are all great human beings.

I am blessed to have every single one of them in my world.

I am so blessed that I get to parent them all.

It still breaks my heart that they don’t have their daddy.

And that they don’t get to hear him say,

“I love you because you’re you.”

But I know their hearts still feel it.

For that,

I am so very thankful.

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

Here are posts from past years:

Wednesday, September 23, 2020

9 Years Ago Today

9 years ago today.

One part of what follows was written last year

and the other part was written 6 years ago.

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

Monday, September 23, 2019

8 Years Today

On September 23, 2011,

8 years ago today,

we were at my Rob's funeral.

The photo below is one I took and it still breaks my heart.

I knew that day what my children had lost.

I also knew they didn't really know yet.

And that made me so sad.

Which is why,

when I saw Luke keep putting his hand on the casket,

I had to capture the moment.

Not to remind us of the sadness

but to remind us of the closeness

of a boy and his dad.

We've all learned so much since that day.

About life, about death, and about how we

each have carried that knowledge

with us into our "presents" and

how it all has shaped our "futures."

God has been right there with us

every step of the way.

I am blessed.

I am thankful.

The following is a post I wrote about the visitation and the funeral.

It was originally a birthday thank you note to Jeremy,

who my children dubbed "the funeral home man."

I hope it will provide some inspiration to someone that,

no matter what the situation,

God is present

and actively using those around you

to help get you through it.

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

(WHAT FOLLOWS WAS WRITTEN IN JULY 2014

- 7 YEARS AND 2 MONTHS AGO.)

Friday, July 18, 2014

Jeremy

(Warning - I have included casket photos in this post but I covered
Rob's face in the photos for those who read my blog
but do not want to see Rob in his casket).

Thursday, July 17, 2014

(well, it’s way after midnight now so I guess it’s Friday, July 18, 2014)

Dear Jeremy, I’m late for your birthday, not because I didn’t know it was your birthday (I saw it on your FB page) but because it has taken me 5 days to sit down and write this. Every time I tried before, I just didn’t have the emotional energy to “go there.” And even though I have told you in private, I want to take this opportunity to tell you in public how much your actions at the time of my Rob’s death meant to me and my children.

I didn’t even know you until my husband died in September 2011 and I used the funeral home where you worked at the time to care for my Rob’s body. I do remember seeing you at my Grandma Caviness’ funeral in 2009 (I pretty much always notice people who are taller than me) but I do not remember talking to you then. In fact, my grandma’s funeral was the one and only time you ever met my husband while he was living. Rob and my dad officiated at her funeral so you and he “worked together” once.

So the first time I ever remember talking to you was when I walked into the funeral home to make the arrangements for my Rob’s visitation and his funeral.

There are many different people in this world with many different jobs
but a funeral home job has to be one of the hardest.
Funeral home workers meet folks when they are in so much pain and probably in some state of shock but still having to function to make decisions that are permanent and costly.
Nothing prepares a person for that.

Now I know that you were doing your job. But there are some people who “just” do their jobs; there are some people who do their jobs at a “less than” status; and there are some people who do their jobs at a “greater than” status. From the very first moment I walked into the funeral home, you and everyone there most definitely did your jobs much “greater than” you had to.

While my sister, my oldest daughter (Crystol), and I were there, you guided me through the process of filling out Rob’s death certificate, the protocol for writing his obituary and taking the names of the newspapers where I knew Rob wanted it published,
going over the costs, and choosing a vault and a coffin.
And as I was doing all that needed to be done,

I was ever so aware that,
as I sat there going through all of the details,
my Rob’s body was somewhere in that funeral home

and he was really dead.
For me, it was a living nightmare.

But we made it through it.

At that time, it had been over 24 hours since I had seen my Rob
and I knew that very shortly, he would be in the ground.
I just couldn’t stand to be in the same building with his body and not see him.

So, even though I knew it was somewhat out of order, I asked you if I could see him. Your kind response was that it really isn’t customary to let the family see the deceased before they’re dressed and ready. Much to my amazement, my sense of humor surfaced for my answer to that one and it made you (along with my laughter) laugh a full laugh when I said,

“Jeremy, I have children with this man. I’ve seen him undressed before.”

Describing what I felt in the moment
that I walked into the back room and saw my Rob’s body
is a difficult task but it was,
for me,
the
most
defining
moment
in the entire after death process.

The grim reality that my husband and the father of my children was lying there dead took my breath away and caused grief to wash over me like a hurricane wave washes over the sea shore.

But seeing him lying there - - -
with only a plain, white sheet covering him and pulled up to his chin,
accentuating his exquisite yet rugged profile...

(this profile – photo taken while we were at the beach - May 2011)

...with his jutted out chin,
small bump in his nose that I had traced over so many times over the years with my finger,
his bushy eyebrows that just never would stay in place,
and his dark hair
in such stark contrast to the very white sheet - - -
well, the simplicity of that sight
simultaneously
gave me a sense of serenity that I’d never known could exist.

No bulky casket,

no fancy suit,

- just him.

Just my Rob.

What I saw in that moment was my Rob looking so peaceful
and if there can be such a thing as a favorite memory of him
from those
awful,
awful,
awful days,
THAT moment is it.

His color was still good.
He looked so natural just lying there.
My Rob was a handsome man, in life and in death.
After catching my breath and while crying and laughing at the same time,
I looked over at Crystol and one of us said

“He’s the most handsome dead man I’ve ever seen.”

I heard you laugh with us.

I wish I had taken photos, not to share with others, but just for me so that I could visually be reminded of that moment of serenity I was given
but I had left my camera in the front room and I didn’t walk back to get it.

I regret that.

But I thank you for allowing me to go back to that room to begin with
so that the moment could happen at all.

And I thank you for cutting some of his chest hair for me to take home with me. I know that request was a strange one but I spent so much time snuggled up to his hairy chest and in that moment, having some of that chest hair to keep was the closest I was going to get. I slept with that envelope (and the one from the hairdresser who had also cut some of his hair for me)
very close to me for a while.

I would like to thank you, and the others, for allowing my children and me to stay at the funeral home well beyond the ending time for the visitation. My children especially needed that time so they could really start to process what was happening.

It was heart-wrenching for all of us.

We all cried
and
said our goodbyes...

...and I thought we were all ready to leave
but my Luke
said he couldn’t leave yet

so I thank you and the others
for letting my then 8 year old son decide when to leave.

I knew it was in the best interest for his emotional healing and future well-being
for him to not feel forced to leave the daddy he loved so much.

I also felt that it was the very first step in his healing for HIM to decide when to separate from his dad’s side since he had absolutely no control over anything else that was happening.

He was SO torn about leaving his daddy that night.

(Luke asked me to take this photo of him and his dad even though he couldn’t stop crying.
He told me he wanted to remember being with him that night.
The original photo has Rob in it too - this is cropped for the blog).

Luke knew that it was the last time he would see his dad
and he just kept saying he couldn’t leave.

He cried and cried
and his tears fell on his daddy.

I held him and he cried some more.

Then he pulled out his legos that I didn’t even know he had brought with him
and ran them up and down his daddy’s chest and arms…
he said he was
“playing with my daddy one last time.”

I had to turn away because I was inwardly sobbing by this point.

I then gathered my composure and took photos for I felt that Luke might
want to see them later on in his life since I didn’t know how
much his then 8 year old memory would hold.

As Luke’s tears fell on his daddy’s face, they made the
face make-up run down onto his shirt collar and his suit.
I didn’t mention it to you that night but the next day, you came up to me and
apologized for the make-up smears that you could not figure out how had gotten there.
After I told you how they got there, you smiled at the sweet sadness of it all.
So thank you for caring about the appearance of Rob’s shirt and suit
but I assured you then that I didn’t care at all about the smears because to me,
they represented the last moments my Luke had with his daddy.

Next, I would like to thank you for accommodating my wishes to
go to the graveside after the funeral
even in the downpour of driving rain.

You had to do your job and ask me if I would prefer to stay inside for the committal but,
as I had told you the day before,
I not only was going to go to the graveside (even in the rain)
but my children and I also wanted to stay there
throughout the entire burial process.

After all, as pastor’s children, they had seen the burial process many times before.
They quickly agreed that they wanted to be there for their father’s burial.

It was fine with me if everyone else stayed inside
(and I had made sure to have that announced)
but I knew that I needed to see my husband’s body go into the ground and be covered.
And all 4 of our children had told me that they wanted to be there too.

I needed to see the finality of it all

and, after talking with my children, I felt they needed to see the process to completion as well.

And the rain – well, that was just a sign from God.

You see, it rained on all of Rob’s and my important days.
Torrential downpour on our wedding day;
Hurricane Fran when Anna was born;
horrible hailstorm when Wesley was born;
and a terrible ice storm when Luke was born.
It rained and rained and rained on important days.
We just started saying that for us,
the rainy days were the good days.
Although I will never call the day I buried my husband a good day,
it was comforting to me that it rained.
It just seemed fitting and right.

So thank you for grabbing the big umbrella and walking us down to the graveside.

A few days later, there was a knock on my parsonage door. I was surprised to see you standing there. It ended up being another one of those moments that took my breath away because you see, you were there to give me my copies of Rob’s death certificates

(those awful pieces of paper that made it official and legal that my Rob was dead).

You didn’t have to do that. You could have gotten the required copies for the funeral home and gone straight back home but to save me the trip (I still lived in another town then), you found our parsonage and brought them to me.

Such a small thing… that meant so much.

So many folks came together at the time of Rob’s dying and death to form exactly what my children and I needed during those horrific days and, on your birthday (or at least in your birthday week), I just want to tell you publicly how much your part in it all meant to me.

Thank you for all you did to help us make our transition to life without Rob.

It mattered then and it matters now.

You were a blessing to all of us.

And tonight, as I finish writing this after just coming home from watching my kids participate and lead in the 2014 Vacation Bible School program at our church,

I feel blessed as well.

Because, even though there are so many times
when I feel so inadequate to parent my children alone,
they sure have turned out to be some really great kids!

And because, as hard as it was to learn to live without Rob,
God has taken care of us
and He used you to be a big part of those
very first days of the journey of living into our future.