Shelley Fields

 A Life Story (May 16, 1934 – May 23, 2009)

As told to Melinda Jud in early May 2009

Shelley Fields was born on May 16, 1934, the daughter of Lena Colon and Richard Fields, in Lakeland, Florida.  Though proud to be African American, she was also a proud blend of ethnicities.  Her grandmother’s Dad was Apache and Irish from Texas, she liked for people to know.

During her pre-school days, the family lived in Hollywood, Florida.  She had lasting memories of a family who lived nearby, named Mizell.  Mrs. Mizell was a teacher, who brought Shelley along with her to school every day.  The Mizells had “a lot of kids,” but Mrs. Mizell’s mother managed to find time to make clothes for them, and for Shelley too.

When Shelley did begin school, she found that the building was hot in summer, and unheated and cold in winter.  In the cold seasons, she and the other students had to stand outside until it warmed up.  On days when it never became warm enough, they were sent home.  The principal, whose education was insufficient to meet changed requirements, had to be “grandfathered” into his position.  Approximately 100 children attended the school, using old textbooks that had belonged to White students.

Her education during Junior High was in the same school, with a curriculum consisting of three levels each of History, Mathematics, and Reading.  Mrs. Mizell continued to teach at the school throughout this time too.

High School was a continuation of the same subjects in the same building, until the family moved back to Lakeland, Florida.  The school there had distinct grades, but was still attended by Blacks only.  She studied Math, Trigonometry, and Pre-Algebra, using 10 year-old textbooks from a substandard curriculum.

After graduating from High School, she worked in a laundry.  Having grown up under Jim Crow laws in Florida, she never saw a White person until she was 20.  At that age, she went to Great Neck, New York with a girl friend.  They visited Shelley’s aunt in Great Neck, and the girl’s aunt in New York City.  Not long after, she entered the New York Business School on Long Island, where she discovered that her segregated early education had failed to provide sufficient preparation.  Living with her aunt, she supported herself by cooking and cleaning for her aunt’s employer.

A caring White pastor at a Lutheran church in Wyandanch, New York, led her to the life-long belief that the grace of God and the Missional Hospitality of the Church were for everyone.  He would go out and sit on the corner, where he talked to people, she said.  Convinced that his outreach was genuine, she soon joined his congregation.

Returning to Florida, she attended Nassau Community College while working for Minority Workers Builders.  She graduated from the U. of Nova, Ft. Lauderdale, with a Management major in 1979.  Continuing to take courses, she worked for the Jessie Taylor Sod Company, and also became active at a primarily Black Lutheran church in Ft. Lauderdale.  While a member of the church, she served as Sunday School superintendant and teacher, church treasurer, and president of the women’s group.

Leaving Florida for Maryland in the 1990s, she worked for General Communications, a business school.  She held subsequent positions with Potomac Job Corps, teaching typing and English, and with Virginia’s Spotsylvania County Schools, teaching Special Education.  She received her E.D.D. degree in 2003, the same year that she began commuting from her home in Fredericksburg, Virginia to a Special Education position in Prince George’s County, Maryland.  Extremely pleased with this job, she said that it was the best she had ever had.  (As an aside, here:  Though in her seventies, she was determined to continue the long commute until her grandson, Donnie Harris, finished school.  For his part, Donnie carefully screened his grandmother’s calls when she arrived home exhausted after a day in class and on the road.  Getting through Donnie’s protective shield was no cinch.  I knew I’d made the grade when he passed me through one evening as “the lady from church.”  Later I became “Ms. Jud,” and could contact Shelley regularly – practically one of the family.)

In Fredericksburg, Shelley was a dedicated member of Resurrection Lutheran Church, bringing additional members of her family.  Prominent as a lay leader in the Virginia Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, she served as Team Leader of the Synod’s African American Outreach Team from 2002 until the time of her death.  (As a further aside:  Anyone on our team can testify that she prodded and pushed us, to a point beyond our comfort zone – but one we typically needed to reach to get things done.  She is remembered by countless attendees at the Synod’s annual assembly, perhaps most notably for the 2004 “Walkabout” piece on the assembly stage, in which she reenacted, step by step, her experiences of discrimination, and the steps she took to overcome it, each part of the way.)

Herein ends the outline of her life as she related it to me, sitting on her couch, shortly before she died.  Its basic facts, however pertinent, fail to do justice to the passion and faithfulness of her personality.  As someone honored to be her friend – who received her trust, and the pleasure of hearing “You give good hugs” when I held her tight and stroked her back – I promised to carry out the daunting task of writing the story of her life.  I’ve struggled with how best to carry this out.  (To paraphrase the song, “How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?”)  I confess that I don’t know.  The “real Shelley,” is not easily summed up.  I therefore offer a series of quicksilver glimpses – memorable moments with her, from my experience:

One important such moment took place in 2004, when she and I traveled to Chicago to attend the ELCA’s Anti-Racism Facilitator Training together.  Her fellow attendees were amazed that someone who had lived under Jim Crow in the South could have such a positive outlook.  Seated beside her on the plane on the return flight, I noticed that she had her eyes closed, with tears streaming down her cheeks:  The recognition during the workshop of her unjust early beginnings had at last made everything right.  She had once survived a tragic automobile accident, she said.  She believed at the time that she had been spared because God had a purpose for her life.  As a result of the workshop and her work on our team, she was beginning to recognize it.  We on the team know the tireless work that resulted -- at conferences and workshops, Mission Partners, and the Convocation of committee chairs.

At a later moment, in December 2008, already critically ill, she drove alone from Fredericksburg to her Church’s Region IX Conference in Columbia, SC.  “Come Ye Who Love the Lord,” the conference was entitled.  She came – and though frail, participated with wisdom and dignity.  The image that comes to mind is that of the Energizer Bunny, driven by a faith-fueled battery.

In late January 2009, I marveled as, weaker still, she challenged members of a White ELCA congregation in a Black neighborhood to conduct outreach more effectively.  She had come late, after finding the way with difficulty, again having driven alone.   Once present, however, she was relentless, with a laundry list of suggestions and admonitions: They needed to hold a contemporary service, do witness, expand Sunday School programs, hold Youth programs, have a rap group (perhaps as part of a service), sponsor a daycare.  On and on she went, as I stared at my lap in embarrassment.  There was a need to bring the Gospel to Black youths.  They could get grants.  Finally, impassioned and nearly in tears, she came to her dramatic and heart-felt conclusion: “We have got to tell everyone about the love of God!”  The assembled group, impassive up to now, just melted into tender smiles.  The real Shelley, woman of quenchless faith, had shown through – and I felt completely ashamed that I had ever been embarrassed.

Her illness – a rare condition in which her body failed at producing new blood cells – presented her with her own great challenge:  “Why,” she asked, “has this happened to me?”  We talked about God’s possible plan:  She had exhibited such marvelous faith even as she suffered.  Perhaps she was meant to give testimony.  As the thought took hold, she seemed to grow in stature and eloquence. Others took notice.  Her Bible, always open daily, remained so; most often, to the Psalms.  And she continually expressed gratitude.  The glass was never half empty; always half full.  We talked of our work together on our team – how for a long time we’d been unable to see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.  As result of our recent partnership with Rejoice Lutheran in Chesapeake,  increased support from the Church-wide office and Synod, and tentative plans for revivals, she felt immeasurably pleased that we’d come such a long way.

She kept her sense of humor.  During the last year or more, I would call every few days to check on her, and before hanging up, admonish her to “Take care!”  “I’M TRYING!” she would retort, laughing at my ludicrous request to do what was clearly beyond her power.  We developed a ritual in which I was “bossy.”  As time went on, I would apologize.  “I’m just glad to know that someone cares about me,” she would say.

I cannot leave out her great love for her family.  One of the great works of her life was raising Donnie.  About that, I can’t say enough.  As for Goldie, Jasmine and Justice, Calvin, Deirdre, Ted, Glenda, Michael, Gregory, Patricia, Roosevelt, her departed brother James – and all the rest, whose photographs covered nearly every inch of her living room – she loved each and every one immensely.  But it’s also fair to say that she extended that love outward to the entire human family.

She loved beauty, had a knack for aesthetics.  “You have a lot of cute little jackets,” she told me.  We shared a love of the color burgundy.  This woman, who faced so much of her life alone (Just think about that!), was so giving.  The cheery red door of her home, framed by an abundance of climbing red roses, drew people in.  I came to bring flowers for her 75^th birthday, only to find that she had gone out grocery shopping with Donnie.  It wasn’t an entire surprise:  She was hoping to begin cooking for people again, she had told me.  The door was unlocked, so I entered and left the flowers, with a note.  What left me speechless – hushed and in awe before I left – was the sudden awareness that up to the final days of her life, she was ready to receive guests:  Her table, with its china and wine-colored napkins so familiar to our team, was perfectly set.

For those who had eyes to see… she was a very special soul among us – an angel unaware.  Shelley Fields, worker in God’s Kingdom, we know that for you a marvelous heavenly table is set.