HOME

ORIENTATION
   History
   Membership 
   Location 
WORSHIP
   Sermons
   Labyrinth
   Prayers
   Advent
MINISTRIES
   Children
   Children's Center
   Youth
   Adults 
   Missions
   Music
PEOPLE
   Staff
   In Memoriam
NEWS
   Newsletter
   Links

Lake Shore has a huge hole in its heart as we grieve the loss of Jan Williams. As the welcoming face at the door, a charter member and a joyful voice in the choir for over fifty years, Jan showed our church family how to live into Jesus’ words, “I have come that they might have life, and have it abundantly.”

One of Steve Gardner’s words for Jan is “unflappable.” Henry Kari’s is “a walking sermon.” Below are the words shared at her memorial service. In the October 26, 2011 newsletter you will find a few emails from the Lake Shore extended family in far places that have come our way.
 

From: Sharlande Sledge
When I came to Lake Shore in 1985, this microphone and I were not on very cordial relations. I was a novice in my delivery, a bundle of rough edges and raw nerves. The first Sunday I learned I had a coach sitting right behind me in the choir: Jan Williams.

“Hey, Sug (sp. Shug?),” she said after church, “Good words. But . . . a little more slowly.” A few weeks later: “Closer to the microphone.” And then, as though sharing a secret: “Not everybody is from North Louisiana like we are and understands when you run the words together . . . “ Or, when she wasn’t ready to voice her comments aloud: “inerstin’”

I not only had a coach; I had a Barnabas, who by her words but mostly by her consistent presence, showed me a wholehearted stewardship of life in its fullness and genuine devotion to church . . . including its ministers.

Jan was wise, secure in who she was, full of vim and vigor, punctual, the one with the good questions – and often the good answers, humble, authentic, a leader. When I was 33 and Jan was 57, I told myself, “When I get to be Jan’s age, perhaps I’ll have half her wisdom, security, authenticity, humility . . . ” Now I’m 59 – and my prayer has changed: I pray for even ten percent of her wisdom.”

Jan was often the first person I saw on Sunday morning, bearing a basket of pears for the taking or persimmons for the table. One afternoon, she was waiting for a meeting down the hall when I walked in. “Dear heart,” she said, “I really didn’t want to come at 4:00 on Sunday, but I was afraid you wouldn’t have anybody here unless I did.” Only Jan. Patron Saint of Young Ministers.

Other Sundays she’d say, “Going down to the Willow City loop to see the bluebonnets.” Or “Clif and I are heading out to look for the Sandhill Cranes.” About five years ago, she said, “Driving up to see the aspen. Don’t know how far we’ll get. But we’ll see something pretty along the way. Come get in the back seat and go with us.”

“Can’t. Big week here,” and I waved good-bye. Minutes later she was back: “We asked you to go to Colorado, but we forgot to ask you to Cathay House for lunch!”

Jan knew how to “consider the lilies,” to abandon herself to the “peace of wild things.” She spent a life-time cultivating the habit of delighting in the changing colors and seasons and taught me about the sacramental nature of creation. She knew ministers need to make space for the world outside this building to nurture a non-anxious heart. But I think she wanted to share beauty for beauty’s sake. And I lapped it up.

Each year she’d call to say, “Hey, kid. The male Painted Bunting’s back. You can sit in the chair by the window and watch for him.” Or “the leaves are showing off.” Last Thanksgiving, I gathered enough fiery gold branches from the Williams’ yard that my Jeep looked like it was hauling a “burning bush” back to church.

Jan’s friend Michael Mayne tells of a Devonshire woman looking across her garden on a gorgeous summer afternoon whose words make me think of Jan: “I were just a-wonderin’ if heaven be so much better’an this, ‘cause, unless it is, I don’t know as I’d care for the change.”

“Consider the lilies.” Consider the explosion of bougainvillea. Consider the pyracantha. Consider the slant of the sun. The pond. The deer. Consider the Great Blue Heron. Consider four grandsons. Consider the bunting with the rainbow on its back.”

Oh, Jan.

My teacher. My minister. My window to Creation. I didn’t know I would miss you so much. I didn’t know this early Sunday morning would be so hard.

Great soul.
Dear Heart.
As we sang to each other in August:
Go ye now in peace.
Go ye now in peace.

Matthew 6.25-34
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

------------------------------------------------------------

From: Bill Bellinger
Nearly a decade ago now, on the Sunday when Dorisanne Cooper was installed as Pastor of Lake Shore Baptist Church and we celebrated the beginning of her ministry here, Kyle Childress from Nagodoches was one of the visiting preachers and he began by asking all us who were present to think of those who had been our models for the pilgrimage of faith. One of the two who came to mind for me was Jan Williams. She was an example of faith for me for many reasons; I mention a few. First, Jan embodied one of the themes of this congregation in that while so many search for answers, she often thought that a good question was food for the faith journey. For decades she sat near the door in our Sunday School class so she could get out early to sing in the choir, but she regularly asked during the lesson, “Now Bill, when was this biblical text written and by whom and for what purpose?” And so I eventually learned early in the lesson to say, “Since Jan will ask, let me say something about how this text originated.” I counted on Jan to raise questions, and when I or someone else responded, she would often say, “Interesting.”

Second and related, education was central for Jan. Her education was transformative for life. She continued to learn. On one occasion we were completing a study of a biblical book when she was away on one of her favorite trips to engage creation, but she insisted that on the Wednesday night after she returned, I go over the conclusion of the unit of lessons with her after she finished supper, and I certainly did as she said. When members of our class would make a comment, we often heard Jan’s audible, “Hmm.” Learning was afoot.

Third, Jan enacted her faith in life. She was a Meals on Wheels volunteer for decades. Often in Sunday School after our time of voicing prayer concerns and praying, she would stop us again to remember an additional person who had come to mind. At times, especially in this congregation dominated by introverts, it seemed that Jan could leap rows of stackable chairs with a single bound and at the speed of an on-coming locomotive to reach visitors at the front door to be sure they received a proper welcome. I remember one couple’s visit from several years ago, whom I happened to know and knew that they would not fit at all here at Lake Shore. Jan saw them try to get out early and ran them down in the drive way. She welcomed them and the woman said, “Well, we won’t be back. There was no sense of worship here.” Jan looked at her and smiled and said, “Oh, I am so sorry you missed it; we had a fine worship experience today, and we hope you will find another church that will be just right for you.” And they did. Jan loved this congregation and nurtured and embodied much of its spirit.

My thoughts over the last four days have often come back to the words of Paul – that we grieve not as those without hope. I believe in the hope of the resurrection. Jan Williams had a long and full life. She was a gift to many of us. Still, we will miss her and we grieve. And so to members of Jan’s family, to Clif, Lynn, Eric, and your family, we will continue to remember you in the hope that your days ahead will include good grief. The Psalm is numbered 121 and I think of it in terms of your going out and coming in with God’s presence in your journey with grief and I think of it in terms of Jan’s going out of this world and coming in to the next in the presence of God.
Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where will my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
He who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time on and for evermore.
 

Prayer:
O God our creator and redeemer, O God of all comfort, O God of all our coming in and our going out, please do come and be with us here now and guide our reflection and undergird us all with your powerful and caring presence. We are today such a mix. We give thanks for your daughter Jan Williams and her vibrant life, and yet we miss her already. Come and lift us up with your spirit. Hold Clif and Lynn and Eric and his family and all of Jan’s family, we pray, in your strong and gentle hands. Embrace them in your love so that in their loss they may experience again that your love does not fail. May your mercy go with them and hold them up every hour of every day. We all wait now for your strength and hope through the crucified and risen Lord in whose name we pray. Amen.

------------------------------------------------------------

From: Robert & Christiana Owusu

Fellow Grieving Lake Shorers,

We heard of Jan's illness and treatment but we never thought she would leave so soon. I was speechless when Christiana told me and we spent much of the evening reflecting on the life of Jan as we know from our care group and the sunday school class to Christiana and Evelyn's visit to Lake Shore recently. We know you will all miss Jan's sense of humor and passion for God's work. We remember her when we studied "Corinthians." She shared her perspective on the Corinthian Church and we remember vividly when she said with her usual smile, "that would be a lovely church to have." For us it was a demonstration of a person with magnanimous spirit of grace--an understanding of the human condition and the unmerited favor of God. Surely, Jan is at rest and we are consoled by these words of Scripture: "And I heard a voice from heaven saying, "Write this down: Blessed [is she] who die in the Lord from now on. Yes, says the Spirit, [she is] blessed indeed, for [she] will rest from [her] hard work; for [her] good deeds follow [her]!"

May the Lord comfort the leaders, the choir, and members of Lake Shore family.