AYFL

June 7, 2015

Ordination is supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Mine was scheduled for this date, 1979. I was voted into full membership in the Western New York Conference of the United Methodist Church the day before, all the preparations had been made, and we were finishing up the meetings which are the normal stuff of which Annual Conference is made. I was a bit distracted, running every half hour or so out of the chapel where the business was being transacted, to check with the fellow who monitored the only phone in the lobby (This was WAY before the era of cellphones; yes, children, people actually could go for an entire day without making or receiving calls, texts, or tweets.).

Linda was back home in Alabama, NY, anxiously and nervously waiting for the time when she would waddle over to our car and head down the road to Houghton, NY, where I and the other Conference members were deliberating. In case you are wondering what sort of heel would describe his best beloved as waddling, read on. I would call for the latest news, and to see if she were still planning on coming. You might think it would be a no-brainer; of course she would be there, standing on the stage with me for my ordination! But the matter was in doubt. She was nine months pregnant, and due any day.

Earlier in the day, bishop Joe Yeakel had told me that no babies were deliverable on that day, but somehow, he forgot to inform God or Linda. Our good friend Ed Boring had taken Linda to the the doctor, then to Perkins for dinner; being about fifteen years older, he said it made him feel good to take an obviously pregnant Linda out because people would think he still 'had what it takes.' Dinner wasn't the only thing on the menu for that day, however. The last call I got from Linda, she told me she didn't think she was going to make my ordination. She was in the pay phone in the hall outside the delivery room. Ten minutes later, Jessie was born.

I rushed to Jones Memorial Hospital in Batavia, driving like a maniac, unaware that I wouldn't even be close to getting there in time. Later, I told bishop Yeakel that he was a much better bishop than prophet; if I needed a prophetic word, I would look somewhere else, thank you. For years, I was the only pastor in the conference who was a member of conference for an entire year prior to ordination, and had the only communion chalice engraved with two ordination dates, until Joyce Pearson received a similar one due to a heart attack she suffered on her ordination day. I'm not sure what theological conundrums this incident might conjure up in the minds of those who contemplate such things. Who says church is dull and routine? But I think I'll take my reason for waiting a year over Joyce's.

So tonight, I am thankful for a delayed ordination, and the reason for it. Jessie has continued to interrupt my plans occasionally, although not quite as dramatically, and she continues to grace our lives with joy. Happy Birthday, Jess! AYFL.