Last week, I bumbled into a conference center, carrying a Rubbermaid tub of materials. Soon, I found my table, put out our purple tablecloth, and placed a variety of flyers about the programs and services of the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan.
I was an exhibitor, among other exhibitors, at a conference with a fun name: It’s called NAPNAP.
That stands for the National Association of Pediatric Nurse Practitioners.
I enjoyed being there. And despite the name of the conference, there was no napping. (Though I could have used that because I woke up very early for this.) Still, no regrets.
A few of the people who walked up to my table asked about the conference we hold in November, which happens to be in the exact same building. We also have exhibitors and community partners at that conference. This time, I was on the other side of that experience.
And that brought back a memory:
Back in 2019, I was going through a lot of transitions in my life. I had just accepted my 10-hour-per-week contract role at the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan, and I remember attending our signature conference for the very first time. Frankly, I had no idea that eventually I would be in charge of the agenda for that very conference.
But I remember that once the staff had arrived and set up the space, exhibitors started to arrive as well. They were setting up their tables, and I had a moment when I walked into the big plenary space among their tables and a thought emerged in my mind, seemingly unbidden.
You could have a whole other career if you want to, I thought.
Or at least I wondered, Could I?
I had worked in the church for many years, and sadly, I left my last position after resigning under duress. There were some difficult things going on at that time in the congregation’s life, and most people there knew nothing about what was happening. Eventually, I would heal that storyline and continue to have such beautiful relationships with people in that community.
But once I stepped out of practicing ministry in the way I had in the past, I didn’t feel like I could go back in, at least not in the same way.
On that day in 2019, when I walked into that plenary space, I thought, What if I could have a second career, working in this organization and the larger Epilespy Foundation network?
It was just a simple thought. A curiosity. A desire that I was at least open to.
And now here I am, beginning my eighth year.
I’ve just arrived in Tulsa for our national conference. This network is filled with my colleagues and friends, and we’re doing great things together. I’m so proud of the people I get to know and learn from, and I’m so grateful to be in their company.
So when I was an exhibitor last week, all of this came to mind again.
This, too, feels full circle. I’m so grateful.
You just never know how one door can lead to a whole new chapter.
—Renee Roederer
Smuggling Grace 