The archdeacon looks back on 18 years and more

Linda Brondsted

These days, I am in a reflective place, as I contemplate retiring as archdeacon and dean of the Institute for Christian Studies. Perhaps this comes with the territory; I wouldn’t know; I’ve never done this before.

I had a conversation with my father, shortly before he died. He asked me, “How old am I, Lyn?” and I replied, “You’re eighty eight, Daddy.” His next comment was, “How did that happen?”

I stand at the brink of retirement! How did that happen, indeed; seventeen years as archdeacon and dean of the ICS; twenty-two years, as dean of the School of Diaconal Training. Three hundred and thirty Saturdays, not counting about forty-five, if we include my own training at ICS as a deacon! Yikes!

One of the very best parts of my work has been to walk alongside students as they discover the ministry to which God is calling them, and begin to move into that ministry, whether it is lay or ordained. To watch them begin to walk on the path that God has for them, has been an incredible joy and privilege, memories I will treasure for the rest of my life. It has also been a huge and humbling gift for me to serve as a member of the diocesan staff for all these years.

But how does it happen that now I stand at retirement? I look back, and discover that at the crossroads along the way, I see God’s presence and direction. He has promised never to leave us or forsake us, and that has been so true in my life. His presence is as consistent as pearls in a chain.

The journey begins at my Baptism; in the picture I have, I am surrounded primarily by women; the men were all away at war: two great-grandmothers, a great aunt and uncle, my mother and grandmother and the priest, The Rev. Reamer Kline (it was Connecticut, January 1945). They took the first steps for me. God was there.

I was taken to church, sat between my grandparents, attended Sunday School, and sang briefly in the choir. A third grade Sunday School teacher gave us prayer books, in which she wrote, “Always remember the Followers’ Ways”. I don’t remember now what they were; but I do remember a special teacher. God was there.

Having ‘wandered off’ during Junior and Senior High School, I found my way back to church during my nursing student days in Boston. The responsibilities as a student at Boston Children’s Hospital were terrifying, and I found courage and hope in reading the daily office and attending Trinity Church, Copley Square, Boston. I went back to school, thinking to combine nursing and faith, somehow. God was there.

Later, living as a young mother in a village in Denmark, I began to ask what the purpose of life might be. Did God really care about us/me? Is this all there is, this finite, earthbound existence? I believe God began to draw me back to himself. As I cared for my family, raised chickens, puppies and sheep, I believe he began to lead me, one step at a time. There is there must be God. God is there, but unseen. God knows and cares for us. God exists. God is real. God was there.

We returned to the US, and I to church, but who was this Jesus we heard so much about? My rather frenetic search to figure this out led to what for me was an unexpected and life-changing moment. Singing the Messiah, I heard, “…. surely, surely, he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows”. Past tense. My response, not particularly full of faith was, “Well Lord if you’ve already done this, you can have my life too.” My life has been different from that day to this, and it was none too soon, either. Our son was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy eight days later; I would not have made it, but for my new-found joy in the Lord. God was there.

As a nurse in a Pediatric and Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, I was drawn to parents and their children as they faced incredible crises, to chaplaincy in a children’s hospital. In 1985, this call became reality and I was ordained deacon in 1986. I have served as a chaplain at Orlando Regional Medical Center, and now at Arnold Palmer Hospital ever since. How humbling and rewarding it is to be invited into the lives of people at their moment of great crisis and vulnerability. God is there.

In 1992, Bishop Howe asked if I would prayerfully consider serving the diocese as archdeacon and dean of the ICS. There had not been a deacon, whose ministry was primarily to support, encourage and represent the deacons, in the diocese; this experimental appointment would be for three years. It seems the experiment was a success! God was there.

This ministry has been such a blessing. I have been challenged to move beyond – occasionally way beyond – my comfort level. The opportunity to serve this great diocese and our bishop has brought opportunities, experiences and friendships I never could have imagined and will treasure forever. I have been blessed a hundredfold and give thanks to God for the wonderful people who have shared this journey with me. God was there.

Now I stand at new crossroads: I have a glimpse of the ministry that God has for me, but no clear picture as yet. I plan to stay alert, spend time with the Lord, and keep my eyes and heart open. I pray that as a priest I know once said, I might also say, “What do you know? God saved the best for last!”

How did this happen? I have no clue, but I do know that God is here, too!