A Letter from Transitional Conference Minister, Rev. Erin Gilmore
Dear Conference,
Below is a letter that I wrote over the weekend to our clergy and moderators, and I am now sharing that letter with the whole conference. Near the end of the letter, I invited people to two opportunities to join in a circle with others to process and to be present to one another and the Spirit. Each of these circles reinforced for me the beauty, power, and necessity of community. This has always been true, and it feels even more so now. In the coming days, weeks, and months, there are many ways we will need to come together, to organize, to grieve, to reflect, to stand, to pray, to learn, to listen. The staff and I are working on finding an online platform through which we can organize and connect with one another across our region. Please stay tuned. And in the Spirit of starting where we are and offering what we can, I’d like to continue to host a circle every Thursday from 9:30-10:30 AM MTN (except Thanksgiving) for any who need a space to gather with others across the conference. Zoom link can be found here.
I don’t know how many times I have started and restarted this letter. All week, I have been holding you in prayer and giving thanks for your leadership in the ministries you serve. I have appreciated your messages on social media and in your newsletters acknowledging the depth and complexity of feelings, encouraging tenderness towards ourselves and loved ones and to pay attention to those who are hurting and scared, reminding us that we all are beloved and precious and inviting us to remember that our salvation does not lie in princes and principalities, but in the Prince of Peace and the communion of saints who have walked this road before us.
Admittedly, I am only now able to share these words, and I’m still stumbling my way into them. On the night of the election, I came home from watching the results at our neighbors house around 9 PM. The results were still not in, but all signs were pointing to a second Trump presidency. Within a half hour of lying down, I felt the churning in my stomach that told me I was going to have a very long night. After “losing my lunch” the first time, I laid back down and tried to go to sleep. But the churning continued. And so did the heaving. I went back through what I ate that day and realized I had taken a sip of what I now realize was an expired drink. Food poisoning. Not to be too graphic but let’s just say there was nothing left in my body by morning.
On the night of the election, my body writhed in pain as it emptied out the toxins that had entered it. It was painful. And messy. And unavoidable. I spent most of Wednesday on the couch, rehydrating myself and slowly introducing food back into my system.
On a very practical level, I drank something that was rotten and my body reacted. Yet the physicality of being emptied out, on this night in particular, has left a haunting mark on me that I don’t want to casually write off as coincidence, yet I also don’t want to jump too quickly to any particular interpretation. Hence the writing and the rewriting of this letter. Truth is, there are dozens of ways I could find meaning in this, and maybe at some point there will be benefit in sharing those interpretations, but none of them would be sufficient to meet each of you where you need to be met today. As if I could do that anyway. None of us alone are sufficient to meet every need. Thankfully, God is. And, God works through the whole of us together, our gifts and our weaknesses, to help heal the world.
One of my mentors and friends, Quanita Roberson says often, “We can’t give from what we don’t have. And if we don’t have it to give, can we trust God will find a way to meet that need without us?” This week, I had to tend to my own pain. I didn’t have much to give. I imagine some of you needed (and still need) to tend to yourselves as well. The beauty of community is that we hold one another together. As I read your words, as well as many others whose voices I cherish and in whom I find courage, I saw God working in and through you to provide what was needed this last week. Some voices offered comfort, others lament, some were raised in anger, and some asked questions, some offered ritual and others their art, some ensured people had the resources they needed and others offered space to be together.
In the coming weeks and months ahead, you may find yourself being the one who needs tending and others may find themselves with the capacity to step up. If I have learned anything in the last few years, it the importance of knowing ourselves well enough to recognize when we need to tend to our pain and process our own grief, especially as leaders, and especially as leaders in a time such as this. Whatever we face, it will require each of us offering what is ours to give and tending to ourselves when we find ourselves emptied out, trusting the Spirit will use us and others, to continue to build a just world for all.
In the spirit of offering what I can, I will be hosting a couple of circles this week for any who want to be in community and have space to process what you’re feeling and to listen to others as well. Gatherings will be on Zoom.
I find strength in knowing you are out there loving one another and loving your neighbors.
I find resolve to keep walking in the ways of love knowing you are walking that path too.
Grace and Peace,
Rev. Erin Gilmore
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