Ten Things Pastors Wives Would Want You to Know But Are Afraid To Admit

Having been married to a pastor for over thirty years, I have experienced first-hand the ups and downs of ministry and the toll it takes on a pastor and his family.  I have friends who are pastors’ wives, and those friends share a bond with whom few others can relate.  Our husbands are fallible, and yet face the constant pressure to balance church and family.  I came across an article a year ago entitled, “10 Things Pastors Hate to Admit Publicly.”  The author,  Matt Bozwell was amazed  how it went viral almost immediately. There have been many critics of this message, but the sheer numbers of pastors that have read it and shared it speaks for itself. (If you haven’t read it, please invest a few minutes on pastormatt.tv.  It is excellent.)

Although I have read several articles about pastors wives, there are a few things I have never read that I have noticed among other pastors wives that are worth mentioning from our perspective.  Here is my own list.

The Ten Things:

1. We have no idea what a pastor’s wife is supposed to look like.  When I was in college, there was a joke that circulated about minister’s wives.  “She needs to be able to “teach, sing alto, and look good at conventions.”  And although we repeated it tongue-in-cheek, there was an underlying truth that was hard to escape.  There was an expectation for a pastor’s wife that was different than other women.  

So we are tempted to measure ourselves by other pastors’ wives we know, see their giftings, and know that we cannot measure up to the persona we see in them.  So, as much as we like to portray that we have it all together, we don’t.  And, aside from trusting in the Holy Spirit to lead us, in and of ourselves, we see our shortcomings  center and front.

2.  We struggle on how transparent we should be.  We don’t want to be put on a pedestal, yet we feel the pressure to model “true christianity” to others in the church as a means of encouragement.  The flaws in our parenting styles, our appearance, our personal relationship with Christ, our ability to submit as helpmates to our husbands, and the other thousand shortcomings we have but are afraid to admit keep us humble, yet sometimes at arm’s length from others in the church.

3.  That thing you read about the pastor’s wife being the loneliest person in the church is very often true.  (See number 2.)  We don’t want to be seen as playing favorites, so often we keep our relationships superficial so that we don’t cause any women to "stumble." Maybe it's that, or just that transparency is scary.  We have many acquaintances, but few close friends.  Many of us have been hurt by past friends who have left the church  and caused a rift in the relationship, so we are more cautious now.  We still need the social outlet of girlfriends, but are unaware on how to fill it.  

4.  We struggle with our husbands, our children, the demands of our lives, but don’t have anyone safe to share it with.  Our husband is your pastor.  We don’t want to hinder the work of God through his sermons and ministry, so we cannot share our struggles with you.   

5.  We feel as though we live in a glass bubble, and it’s not your fault.  Not only do we struggle with how fallible we are as role models and what that will do to you, we struggle with what that glass bubble does to our children.  Their perception of pastors' kids  is that they are being judged by a different standard than your children.  We tell you and we tell others that they are just kids fighting the same devil your kids fight, but our kids see it differently.  They remember the comments that have been made to them about how pastors’ kids should know better.   They have been used as sermon illustrations since they can remember.  They don’t understand why other kids can pick and choose whether they want to go to church or youth group and they don’t get a choice.  Their social circle is the church.  Perception is reality.  They believe their lives are on display and some of them handle it better than others.

6.  Our husbands are rarely off-duty.  We know that a ten minute trip to the grocery store can often take an hour.  Our husbands are constantly searching out lost sheep in Walmart, getting caught in impromptu counseling sessions in the produce aisle.  Most of the ordinary events in life become sermon illustrations.  “That will preach” becomes a regular statement in our homes.  Weddings, funerals, school functions, and sporting events become exercises in painting a smile on our faces and greeting all the people that have ever attended our church and have since left.   We still love you and want what’s best for you and your family, but secretly feel we have failed you.  We believe that had we done our job better, you would still be with us.  You are the family member that has found a new and better family.   We know what that does to our husbands.  The longer we have ministered in the community and the smaller the town is, the more this factors in. (By the way,  we read your posts inviting people to your new church  and see how much you love your new church pastor and family.)  We know that the Church is not the building and that we are only a small piece of God’s infinite puzzle, yet we struggle with the urge to compare our church to your new one, and often feel like we have lost.

7.  We owe a huge debt to you.  We have experienced your generosity.  We have been blessed  by you year after year at Christmas.  We have seen the hundred ways  you love on our children.  We see you volunteer in the nursery, teach our children in Sunday School, and  compliment us on how beautiful and wonderful our family is.  We have seen you sacrifice your time, energy, and money to bless us.  We remember your encouraging words when we are tempted to feel deflated.  And as much as we feel the pressure to never fail you, we have heard your kind encouraging words.  We know that when you say you have been praying for us, you really have.  It has not gone unnoticed. We are humbled by you.

8.  We truly love you.  We see your gifts, we are encouraged by your generosity.  We feel your prayers.  You hold so much value to us.

 

9.  We know our Source.  We see our own limitations, and we know yours.  And yet we do not take lightly the high calling we have been given by the One who planned in advance for our lives and equips us with everything we need to continue in this high calling.  He is the one who is made perfect in our weakness.  He is the one who never fails, even when we fail.  Even when we get hurt.  Even when we feel we don’t measure up.    

10.  We love what we do, even when it seems hard, even though we have been hurt.  We know we can do better, and we set our hearts on doing this.  We feel your encouraging words and prayers and pray that we have encouraged you along the way.  And as much as we have battle scars, it is just proof that we have fought the good fight.  Our prayer is that we will finish the race well.  And we need you to run with us.

Five "Long" Minutes

Why is it I am hard-pressed to find something positive about the word “long”?  The long times I remember most are the hard times.  

A long illness.  
A long term paper.  
A long time in the dentist’s chair.  
A long labor.  
A long time spent missing someone who needed to come home.

Isn’t the word “long” subjective anyway? Is there such thing as time spent with a cherished friend that takes just too long?  Or a great book that we wished we could finish sooner?  Or do the minutes and pages fly by and before we know it, the time is up?

I recently cruised the Caribbean with my beloved husband.  We were to leave on a Saturday, and not return for seven days.  When I thought about being away from my kids for a week, seven days seemed to be way too long.  But after boarding the most beautiful ship I had ever seen, relaxing by one of the many pools on board with a good book, experiencing superb shows each evening, and arriving at exotic islands in the morning, the days flew by. I could have stayed on that ship even longer.  

But most of the time, long and hard just seem to be life-long companions.

So, how do we do long, when long is hard?  I’m pretty sure it’s all about the focus. When I focus on the finish line, today is long and hard.  I was never promised grace for tomorrow.  The promise of joy and grace was for today.  So when long seems hard and the end isn’t in sight anytime soon, it's time to change my focus.  Focus on today.

Find joy in today.

Do nice today.

Love deeply today.

Tomorrow has enough worries of its own.

Reach

I am considered somewhat tall for a woman.  It started in junior high, when three inch heels  or platform shoes were the rage.  Everyone wore them, and I was very conscious of the fact that with my two inch heels I towered over most of the twelve year old boys.

That doesn't work well if you consider height to be a deciding factor on whether or not a boy might consider asking you out.  Most taller boys played sports, so being the shy, unconfident person I was, I never even considered that a "jock" would ever ask me out.  So, it is quite amazing that I ended up marrying one.  But that's an entirely different story.

Being tall has one advantage.  You can reach things others can't.  I have been asked more than once by a stranger in the grocery store if I could help them reach something.  My mother in law has often used my height to her advantage to help reach a serving bowl on the top shelf of her cabinet.  

Reach.  It usually requires stretching.

You might even be a little uncomfortable for a time, straining to get something that is out of reach for most people, but barely within your own.

There is another kind of reach I have known--finally reaching your destination/goal/opportunity. There is a finality about that kind of reach.  It means overcoming obstacles, pursuing something over a long period of time, coming to the place where you realize what you had sought for so long--a finish line, a vacation spot, a master's degree.  

The destination I think about  reaching most often is more a place of maturity.
Reaching a place where the struggles of the past no longer have a hold on me.
Reaching a place where I no longer worry about what others think of me.
Reaching a place where I can love unconditionally.
Reaching a place in my where I trust the Lord completely and never doubt.

I would love to reach that place.

But I am beginning to realize that it is going to look more like the continual stretching kind of reach. A process.  It means it will be uncomfortable.  I will wonder if I will ever arrive.  I believe it is the process itself that is much more important than the destination.  The continual stretching and striving will produce the character He requires for me to enter a new place.  

Yes, reach is a slippery thing.  Once you think you have arrived, there is always more. A new destination, a new race to run, a new level.

One day we will finish our race, having run the entire course, and will truly reach what our hearts desire.  What we were created for.  Until then, we continute to reach…

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such away as to get the prize."  I Corinthinas 9:24.

Thirty Years Ago

My knight in shining armor found me, swept me off of my feet, and we made promises to love, honor and cherish each other thirty years ago today.

We thought we knew so much.  We thought love would carry us through anything.

I chuckle now as I remember answering questions that our pastor/marriage counselor asked us, in order to prepare us for this lifetime commitment called marriage.

"Who will do the dishes and clean the house?"  Our answer?  "Why, both of us, together!"

"Who will shop for groceries, pay the bills, and cook the meals?"  "We will both do it together!"

And we did.  For about one year and a month.  We drove to the store together, washed and dried our clothes at the laundromat together.  We arrived home from work at about the same time,  so we carefully calculated what was for dinner (usually shake and bake chicken or a hamburger helper type meal), cooked together, and cleaned up the dishes together. We were on a shoestring budget, but that didn't keep us from our weekly trips to Baskin Robbins for our Coconut Almond Fudge ice cream cones.  At least once a week we would enjoy fine dining at the China House Restaurant where the world's best Cashew Chicken took place.  Sometimes we would play mini golf or go to a movie, or even sit by the pool at the local Howard Johnson's hotel.  We had been warned about the first year of marriage being the most difficult.  We were sailing through it with nary a bump in the road. Ah, wedded bliss.

And then life happened.  It was called colicky baby, move to a new state, and start a job in a new church, where every needy teenager thought my husband was their new hero.  All within two month's time, I had been catapulted from princess to mom, homemaker, pastor's wife, bill payer, cook, and bottle washer.  I landed hard.  All those layers of feather beds and feather matresses were pulled out right from under me when I had least expected it.

I felt like Cinderella, who had to stay home from the ball and take care of her responsibilities at home.  And my husband, the prince, had no clue.

Now mind you, he was an instant wonderful father.  After years of playing sports from little on, it didn't take him long to master the "football hold" for our darling, unhappy little daughter.  We would pass her off and pace the floor each night until she would finally fall asleep around midnight.  But his days at the church office were the culmination of many years of prayer and hard work, and it was very rewarding, albeit a little scary for him.  He was finally able to spend his time ministering, preparing sermons, sharing his faith, hanging out with teenagers, imparting wisdom and strength to those who needed him.

And although the bump in the road was unexpected for me, I soon found my new love, being a Mom.  I fell so deeply in love with my little girl, that it made no difference to me what our home looked like, what we had for dinner, or how much money was left at the end of the week (usually none).

Looking back on the last thirty years, six babies,  two little boys, two grand babies, three churches, hundreds of friends, and yes, twelve homes later, I believe we were right about one thing.  Love did take us through it all.

But our love looks a lot different now.  We used to love because.  Now we love although.  We used to count on feelings to carry us through.  Now we hold on to the promises we made thirty years ago.

On our wedding invitation, it read:  "Today I will marry my friend, the one I laugh with, dream with, live for, love…."

Today, I am still married to my friend.  We still laugh together, dream together, live together, and love very deeply together.  There are days we don't have a lot of feelings to hold on to.  But the promises we made to our Heavenly Father in front of our friends and family so many years ago have kept us from ever second guessing those words.

I'm grateful we had a love story.  I'm glad my prince came and scooped me up and carried me away.  And I'm forever grateful for the precious memories we share together now.  We are infinitely rich.

The Serenity Prayer Revised

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Such words of wisdom.  I’ve seen them so often, they have become cliche.

But, I love that prayer.  Sure wish I could remember it.  Every day.

Because it sure would save me a huge mountain of stress if I would just put it into practice.

How much of my mental energy is spent being frustrated with the actions and attitudes of others? How much of my day do I ponder and stew about conversations that took place, frustrations over people that won’t change, regrets from the past, even society’s problems, dishonesty in politics, world hunger, the persecution of innocent people? It’s exhausting.

Really, the only person I can truly change is myself. I can learn to love myself and others in my present state. I can be willing to admit my mistakes and grow from them. I can know that until my time on earth is complete, He has more for me to accomplish.  How exciting it would be, to truly take all the mistakes of the past, learn from them, make adjustments, and continue on.

That could produce incredible results-- power and peace.

The potential is huge. But it will only happen if I put the principles of the Serenity Prayer into practice. But I would change up the wording just a little.

“God, grant me peace of mind to pray and leave at the feet of Jesus the things I cannot change, the courage and strength to work on the things I can, and by continual prayer, be equipped with the wisdom of the day to know the difference.”  

Wow, looks like that would make a great poster!!  

It's Hard to Tell…or Is It?

“I’m telling!”

I have heard these very words so often during my years as mom and referee.  Soon after, a little person scurries through the doorway armed with a new story of injustice.  

Apparently, it is of the utmost importance that their mom know about it, because deep within all of us is a need to make things fair.  And if I can’t make things fair myself, by golly, I am going to find someone who can.

Isn’t that the pull of social media these days, to find an audience that will sympathize with any injustice I encounter?  

“I’m telling!”

Only, now that I am older and supposedly more mature, what seems to have changed is my method and audience.  It’s powerful to see how many people I can find to agree with me and “like” my status.  It helps me validate my own feelings of injustice.

The problem with this method is that it is shaky at best, and based on a false sense of security.  

I am just beginning to see the magnitude of power there is in the written word of social media.  The need to rally people around me to support my cause can blind me to the fact that my cause may have a false premise.  I just might be entirely wrong. If I base my sense of right and wrong on a system of popularity, how am I any different than the teen who dresses for her peers, whether or not the rest of society deems her appearance attractive or proper?

How often do I experience something funny, or sad, or maddening,  and I immediately think, wow, I need to post this!

Why?  Because, deep down is a need to feel validated. But, how many “likes” is enough? Twenty? Thirty?  Fifteen, with a few comments thrown in?  Well, yesterday, twenty made me feel good, but my friend got 55 likes on a photo of her kid and it wasn’t anything great or new, or even that cute. So, now, I’m gunning for at least 60!  It’s almost like...well...an addiction!  I need to have more and more “likes” to make myself feel good.  

It’s time to step back and get a dose of perspective.  Who are those whose opinions matter most to me? Is it a friend I haven’t seen in 20 years, or even someone I have never met? Shouldn’t the ones I love and value most have the most influence on me and I on them?  

When all is said and done,  when I reach the end of my life, how many of my social media friends will do little more than like the status that informs them I have passed on to another world? It’s time to put time into the ones whose lives I have been given the responsibility to mold and affect, those with whom my heart beats. Those I like most.  Those I love.

Unrealistic Expectations

My husband and I sat in the counseling session with an obviously distraught couple.  She had drawn an imaginary line in the sand and stated that he had crossed over it one too many times.  He, looking shell-shocked seemed to have given up long ago.

As they described their relationship and their years of struggle and pain which had now turned to anger and surrender, a phrase kept repeating itself in my mind--"unrealistic expectations." As couples so often do, they had brought their list of unspoken expectations of how the other should talk, feel,  and act into their marriage, and when it did not play out as expected, the heartbreak began.

She thinks: He should know my needs and meet them.  When he doesn't, he demonstrates in full color that I am not important to him.  When I make my expectations clear and he continues to ignore them, it is proof that he does not love me.  Every mistake.  Every missed "I love you." "Every task put off screams that he has other things more important to focus on and I am an after-thought.

He thinks:  Nothing I do will ever be good enough.  When I do try, she interprets it as half-hearted, so even my best falls short.  If I reatreat into my own thoughts I am considered neglectful.  If I challenge her priorities I am considered unloving.  It is a lose-lose situation.  I can never win, so why try?

The Book of Lamentations has a song that I learned as a new Christian.  "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end.  They are new every morning.  Great is His faithfulness."

Even as a teenager, the truth of these words gave me hope.  No matter how difficult yesterday was, today is a new day.  I get a "do-over", another mulligan.  The hope is that I can take the mistakes of yesterday and begin again, having made the necessary adjustments to imporove on yesterday.

The key phrase here, my friends, is make necessary adjustments.  How often have I repeated yesterday's mistakes, because I thought that repeating yesterday's actions with yesterday's attitudes would somehow magically reap new results?  Isn't that the definition of insanity, according to possibly one of the world's most brilliant minds?

I struggle with my own inadequacies daily.  Sowing unrealistic expectations for my husband and children yields a crop of anger and frustration.  Unrealistic expectations for myself lead to  guilt and surrender.  Oh, whoa is me.  Who will rescue me from this body of unmet expectations?

Thanks be to our precious Lord and Savior that we don't have to do this alone.  He promises to take yesterday's failures and wash them, purify them, and send us out with new clothes.  But we must put them on.  We must renew our minds.  It is in going to the feet of the only One that can make all things new that I can truly begin again.