Glass houses April 29, 2009

I never really understood the phrase “people in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks.”  I think it’s because of the fact that I grew up living in a fishbowl, so the meaning behind the cliche got lost for me.

I guess the intention behind the phrase is similar to the instructions in Matthew 7:3-5, “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”  But for me, when I started to hear that phrase and begin to attempt understanding it, I was also beginning to understand what it means to live in a fishbowl.

The fishbowl idea is simple – basically, your life is transparent to everyone, they see all and know all that you do.  There is very little that you can keep private.  So does that mean that because everyone knows my every move, I can’t metaphorically throw rocks?  I think that is true for a lot of pastors.  See, pastors are called by God to preach the Word, both the law and gospel.  But I can’t tell you how many times my husband has been harranged by someone for speaking the law to them, for pointing out their sin.  I know it’s true that people don’t want to hear what they are doing wrong.  Truth is, that is probably the biggest problem with our culture today, that everyone believes they have the right to do whatever they want to do, and anyone who places limits on them is being judgmental.  My husband has even been accused of being judgmental by his own parents, not because he spoke words of judgment to them personally but because he tried to share with them some of the difficulties of his ministry.  He has since learned to keep quiet about his work around them, which has widened the gap between him and his family.  It’s tough when our lives revolve almost entirely around church, whereas they don’t go to church at all any more.  He even asked his mom to go to church on Christmas as a gift to him, and she still had reasons and excuses for why she couldn’t attend.

At least he is able to be open about his life with people – being transparent makes him more available as a pastor and as a human being, allowing others to share in his struggles.  And while he can’t always be transparent with his family, the difficulities he experiences sharing his faith with them helps him to relate to members of the church as they struggle with witnessing to their loved ones.

I know I’m one of the lucky ones.  I may have grown up living in the fishbowl, but at least I can talk about my faith with my parents and sister, who know what it’s like to live the transparent lifestyle.

Confirmation… and trusting God April 26, 2009

Right now I’m at church on my husband’s computer, killing time as he and our Director of Christian Education (DCE) walk through next week’s worship service with the eighth grade class.  These kids are getting confirmed next week, which in the Lutheran church is not a sacrament but a renewal of baptismal vows, where the young person confirms the promises that were probably made on his behalf when he was baptized as a baby.  This is one of the “down time” pieces I find myself filling from time to time.  I have no active role in confirmation, and while I could spend time chatting with some of the parents, I wandered upstairs to see what was happening.

So that group is busy, and the 7th grade class is cleaning up downstairs.  Most of the parents are sitting in the pews, eager to snap some pictures once the group is posed in front of the altar.  I think it’s wise that they take pictures a week in advance, because it lets the families do their own thing after the service next week.  We’ve already been invited to two separate celebrations, possibly more.  Hey, I don’t have to cook!

That’s the funny thing about being the wife of the pastor.  I’m one of the people with nothing to do at events like this.  “I’m just here for the food,” as the one step sister said in the Cinderella re-telling Ever After.  Tonight was the confirmation dinner for the class.  The 7th graders serve, the food is catered, and the 8th graders, their parents, and the church workers & spouses come together for a lovely meal and fellowship.  Now that the meal is done, I’m one of the leftovers.  I don’t mind it.  I’d be chatting with either the other pastor’s wife or the DCE’s wife if I knew where either of them went.  I think one might be downstairs and the other sitting in the sanctuary.  But I just don’t enjoy sitting around the sanctuary during these things.  Kind of like the voter’s meeting today after church.  I don’t vote as a rule, and I don’t speak up for the most part, especially being this new to the congregation.  So my role is to sit and listen.  And believe me, there’s nothing new to hear.  Not enough money, spending too much, how will we pay the bills?  Every church debates these topics in meetings.  Funny thing is, God always provides.  There are lean years, and years of plenty.  But it always works out.  Right now we’re in some lean times, and we’re able to feast off of the store from previous plentiful times.  So I’m not worried.  The church will always endure, and this congregation is fine, financially.

Weird thing is, I tend to worry about our personal finances.  I’ve been realizing lately that God has been working on me in that department, showing me that though I’m not always faithful, He ALWAYS IS.  I know I can trust Him to see us through.  He’s never let us down, we’ve always had more than enough.  And I live in a place of great wealth compared to the rest of the world.  I’m being called to trust.

Worrying April 23, 2009

I know that other professions (besides being a pastor) have high stress.  Air traffic controllers, lawyers, and border patrol agents are just a few examples.  But most jobs are set up to leave the stress behind them at the end of the work day.  Yes, you can work overtime and deal with longer hours, but few individuals carry the stress of their jobs home with them.

Not so with pastors.  My husband, when he’s not dealing with the day-to-day stress of his job, carries a huge burden for the souls of people under his care.  He takes seriously his calling to be an under-shepherd of Jesus, tending to the flock and sharing the Word of God with a world in need.  He’s had countless people tell him he needs to find ways to blow off steam, from his chiropractor to his family to his ministry coach.  But I think the reason he doesn’t get too attached to a hobby is because he can’t let go of those worries over the souls that haven’t yet come to know Jesus, or the ones that may be heading in a direction that will take them far from God.

I’ve only seen him truly let go and enjoy himself a few times, and it tends to be when he can feel the wind in his face – piloting a speed boat, riding on a roller coaster, or driving with the top down.  I’m really thankful that we found a second car and it’s a convertable, because when the weather is nice he can find some enjoyment away from the stress of life.

Thank God that it’s not all up to us.  If it was solely up to him to tell every person on earth about Jesus, my husband would probably go off the deep end with worry.  I think it’s my job to remind him that it’s not his responsibility to save the world, but to do what is possible to be done on any given day, all for the glory of God.  Most days, I think he knows this.  But I think he can sometimes forget.  Prodigal Jon wrote an excellent post about that today.

Fighting April 22, 2009

I sometimes wonder if people assume that pastors and their wives don’t fight with each other.  I know there have been times that I’ve assumed that about other couples.  The truth is, we fight.  In fact, one of the prime times for fights is Sunday morning on the way to church.  After all, he’s focused on the upcoming service(s), I am stressing about being around crowds of people, and the atmosphere is ripe for misunderstanding.  I tend to fight if I feel like I’m being ignored or not listened to.  Then I’m surprised when, on the way to a worship service that my husband is leading, he doesn’t pay attention to me.  Hm, that might be a problem.

On the reverse, I tend to upset him when I don’t jump on board with church stuff that he wants help with NOW.  He’s a get-it-done-immediately kind of guy, while I would rather wait and see.  So when he calls me with an issue from the office, he’s looking for ideas and/or solutions that are immediate.  And I usually can’t accomodate.

I think the hardest part, besides the fact that everyone assumes our marriage must be perfect, is that so much of our fights revolve around church.  It’s gotten much better now that we don’t work together any more, but then again we fought about different things when we worked together.  Then it was me being frustrated over my responsibilities and him wanting to assign me tasks (never a good idea for spouses to do).  Now, I’m out of the loop with our schedule and frustrated that I can’t always get ahold of him when I need to.

The weird thing about this is that I don’t mind the fights.  We don’t fight that often any more (but we sure did when we were first married, as I think almost all newlyweds do).  When we do fight, it’s over quickly, and we’ve learned to make up much better.  I just think it’s funny that we’re not “supposed” to fight.  Ever.  And we wonder why people go into marriage with such impossible expectations?  Maybe if all of us, including the pastor’s families, got real about the struggles and the joys of marriage, those entering into this union would have a more realistic picture.

It’s funny that the description I have running through my head is a t.v. theme song:  “You take the good, you take the bad, you take ‘em both, and there you have the facts of life.”  While the show was about growing up and boarding school, the song is more about marriage than anything.  There are ups and downs in every relationship, especially when you are part of a life-long bond, and in order to grow together it’s about accepting them for who they are.

I love you, honey.  Even when I’m annoyed with you.

Getting stuff done April 15, 2009

I am a perfectionist.  This is not something I came to realize on a whim.  In fact, I once did a professional profile test, something required for school, where my working style was called “perfectionist.”  I’ll be honest, that was not good news to me, but it was also not surprising.

Apparently this is not an uncommon trait.  Lots of firstborns have it, and I am the firstborn of two firstborn parents.  Lots of women struggle with it, too.  There are several online communities devoted to conquering this problem.

Problem?  Why would that be a problem?  Because being a perfectionist is far from being perfect.  I struggle with starting anything, because if it isn’t perfect, I am a failure in my eyes.  I love the song “Free to Be Me” by Francessca Battistelli because in the chorus she sings “perfection is my enemy.”  It’s true.

Right now I’m sitting in a home office that has piles everywhere.  I don’t know what to do with them exactly, and I want to have it all perfect and neat, with typed labels on files and color-coded and easy access to everything.  Oh, and I want the photographs to be cataloged and scanned into the computer, but the computer is acting up so I probably can’t do that, and I don’t know where the labels are, plus the printer needs ink and I’d have to clean it off, and and and…

Did you ever sing the children’s song “There’s a Hole In My Bucket“?  I remember it from grade school because it always made us crack up with it’s silliness, but in a lot of ways that is what perfectionists like me struggle with.  Getting started somewhere is the toughest thing to do.

A few weeks ago my friend Jim posted a quote on his blog:  “Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”  It’s from St. Francis of Assisi, and I copied it and printed it out.  I’m trying to remind myself daily to look at it and begin with what I have to get done, then what I can get done, and then move on to the stuff I just want to do for fun.

Somehow the overwhelming tasks don’t seem so overwhelming when I get started.  It’s only when I look at them from the outside that they are scary.  Kind of like talking to people.  Hmm, I think I’m sensing a pattern in my life here.

(un)Holy Week April 14, 2009

Wow, lots of comments about leaving in silence – who would have thought?  If you haven’t checked out the comments, go back and read, especially Bethany, Jim, and Becky.  Three different views on it and all very good.

I don’t always feel the full impact of Holy Week the way I wish I could.  Some of it is because I am so conscious of being up front, a subject I’ve written on before.  Some of it is that I don’t always allow for the Holy Spirit to work in my heart.  I once heard someone say (or maybe I read it someplace) that if you sit through a sermon and just think about the other people who “need” to hear it, then you are missing the whole point of the sermon.  It might have been in the book Life Together, actually, which if you haven’t read it, go READ IT.  Especially if you’re a Christian, especially if you live with other people, and especially if you struggle with community the way I do.

I am painfully shy.  Not everyone knows this about me because I can handle making conversation when I need to.  But I would rather duck out of a room than have to navigate across a crowd of people who might stop me and engage me in conversation.  And believe me, being the pastor’s wife on Easter Sunday means crowds and conversation.

Here’s the thing – it’s not that I hate talking to people.  I get freaked out by the idea of talking to people.  Anyone who has dealt with shyness knows what I mean.  I was teased mercilessly as a kid for not wanting to talk to others.  I worked for a church once where the pastor had to teach me to leave my door open for people.  When I’m around people that I don’t know well (and it will be a year before I feel like I know people at this congregation well), I just don’t want to participate.  I realize this is an anxiety issue, one I need to work on, but that’s the truth.

So I think it’s part of why I find it easy to criticize those who don’t leave in silence.  Holy Week is the one time of the year when I get to avoid the conversation gauntlet.  It’s a cop out, but there you go.  And being around crowds just plain exhausts me.

I spent Easter afternoon and most of yesterday fighting off a major bout of depression that I couldn’t put my finger on.  I knew it was there, like a heavy cloud descending on my head, but I can usually pinpoint the source.  I think I figured it out this morning.  I came home yesterday afternoon from running errands and spent the evening in bed watching television, went to sleep at 11 pm, and didn’t fully wake up until 11 am this morning!  I think between the crowds of people, dinner with my husband’s extended family (he has aunts and uncles who live in this area), and lack of sleep on the night before Easter (gotta love sunrise services), I was just wiped out.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy spending time with his family.  But again, it’s being around people that I don’t know very well.  Prior to moving here we didn’t spend much time around his extended family.  There are days when I would rather just run off to a retreat with some of you that I already know really well, maybe bring a few new friends along, and forget about my responsibilities.  But I remember that Bonhoeffer himself talks about how we are to live in community with each other, and I know I need to work on some things in my life.  Thank you all for being a part of it.

Leaving in silence April 10, 2009

A bit of explanation for those who do not have the same Holy Week experiences as I do:  Our church body (and others, but I’m not sure which ones) celebrate specifically during Holy Week, a.k.a., the week leading up to Easter.  We start with Palm Sunday the week before, waving palm branches in church and celebrating Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a donkey.  Then we have services on Thursday, Friday, sometimes Saturday (depends on the congregation), all leading up to the biggest Christian celebration of the year on Easter Sunday (more about that later).

So today is Maundy Thursday, where we celebrate the institution of the Lord’s Supper, the night when Jesus gave us the first Communion celebration and also commanded (mandate, why it’s called Maundy Thursday) his disciples and us to love one another.  This service involves communion, sermon, all the usual parts, and finishes with the “stripping of the altar” to remind us of how Jesus was stripped of his clothing, beaten, and pretty much humiliated with his arrest and trial.  Whew.  Explanation part over.

The tradition is to leave in silence at the end of tonight’s (and tomorrow night’s) service.  Here’s the thing – I’ve never known the luxury of truly leaving in silence, finishing the service, heading straight for the car or walking home, just filled with the experience of worship and mediating on what it means that Jesus died for me.  Some of you who know my husband might think this is because he likes to talk.  Not so – he respects this tradition as much as the next person, probably more than most!  It’s because I’ve always been part of the pastor’s family.

See, the thing is, pastors rarely get to experience holy days the way the rest of the congregation does.  Part of their calling is to create the opportunity for others to worship, to plan the experiences, to take care of the behind-the-scenes details so others can just come and worship.  And their families usually participate at some level.

I’ve always had to stick around after the services.  I’m not always helping with prep for the next service, but my husband is.  And before that, it was my parents. So I’ve not had the chance to experience the whole leaving in silence thing, something I wouldn’t mind doing, personally.

What amazes me is how many people do not take advantage of this opportunity.  Despite the announcement at the beginning of the service, despite the note in the bulletin, there are always groups of people who merely leave the sanctuary proper but start talking the second they hit the lobby.  Or others wait for the parking lot.  I don’t fault them for this, but I’m a little frustrated that they CAN have the silence and choose NOT to take it.  Of course, I realize there are those who are uncomfortable in silence, others who have children where silence is nearly impossible to achieve for more than a moment or two, and still others who have similar responsibilities.  But if I could, I would maintain the silence until I got home (or at least, partway down the road).

What (not?) to wear… April 8, 2009

I am hyper-conscious of what I wear to church.  It’s a combination of factors that instilled this in me.  First, I sit up front and everyone sees me.  Yes, that’s pretty vain of me but I am a woman and we worry about what to wear.

Second, my mother told me so.  Ok, that’s a little cliche but the fact is, I cannot forget my mother teaching me that I am supposed to dress up and give my best to God.  I still feel mildly guilty over the fact that my wardrobe contains only a couple of little-used skirts and one dress that I have only worn twice.  My staples are pants, because I’m most comfortable in them.  But I still feel guilty not doing the skirt/pantyhose/dress shoe combination, especially when there are special church occassions.

I went through this back in January when my husband was installed at our new church.  I spent a few days freaking out while shopping, and ended up wearing something I already owned.  I have been going through that again this week because of the impending Easter Sunday dilemma.  This is always an issue, because I remember growing up wearing the pretty Easter dress and white shoes.  There is a small part of me that still feels like that is proper Easter attire, never mind that I’m not a little girl any more.

I feel pretty comfortable with what I’ve bought for this year, because for once I bought pieces that can go with other things.  I’m a little nervous over the fact that the ensemble includes white pants, but they are beautiful and fully lined and fit well, so I’m going to attempt to relax and remember that it really isn’t about me.

I think that is one of the hardest lessons to learn, that it’s not about me – not what I prefer, what I think, what I say, what I wear.  Yes, those things can be stumbling blocks to people if I wear crazy outfits, say inappropriate things, or disparage people through my looks or actions.  But beyond avoiding being a stumbling block, my responsibility is to worship God and forget about everything else.  Oh, to be able to do that on a regular basis…

To speak, or not to speak April 7, 2009

I struggle a lot with group situations at church – Bible studies, training sessions, you name it.  In particular, if it’s a situation where my husband is not present, it’s tough for me.  I can talk about my issues of shyness and fear of crowds at another time.  But this particular struggle is in wondering when and how I should speak up.

For instance, if the leader asks someone to pray, should I volunteer to set an example for the group, or should I refrain from volunteering because it would be dominating too much?  I generally do not step up to the plate on this one because I am not very comfortable with praying aloud and only do it when I feel it is necessary (like when I’m leading the study).

If it’s a Bible study, how often should I share my thoughts?  And to what degree?  I am learning to hold back and let others share, because this is an area where I could potentially dominate.  I get all kinds of ideas when I’m in a Bible study, thoughts and memories from studies in the past or experiences I’ve had, concepts and connections that pop into my head based on the conversation or just the text itself, questions or comments that may only be helpful to me.  I don’t always know when my thoughts are merely for my own benefit and when they are useful to the group at large.  Beth Moore, a Christian speaker and author, wrote in one of her books (I don’t have it with me so I have to paraphrase from memory) something about how those who are teachers can’t help wanting to share what they know – when God gives them a thought, they want to shout it from the rooftops.  I find myself in that predicament a lot.

This struggle for me comes from years of being the pastor’s kid where I had more of the answers than others, from having several years of training and from my love of reading books about ministry and theology.  I feel an abundance of shareable information welling up inside of me whenever I get into those kinds of settings, and I never know if I should shut up or speak up.  I try to remind myself that being the pastor’s wife does not mean I have to change who I am, but it’s still an ongoing struggle.  I want to allow others to share their thoughts, and often times their thoughts lead to more thoughts in my head.

Maybe I should start bringing a journal with me to Bible studies and jot down all of these thoughts for myself.  I sometimes forget that God places those bits of wisdom into my head first for my benefit, and then sometimes for the benefit of others.

Some of my favorite pastor’s wives April 6, 2009

While this blog is mostly about my journey, there are others who have shared the road with me.  These are the pastor’s wives who have been in my life, who have shaped my experiences and who are the first ones I think of when I write.

The first one is my mother, with whom I had a rocky relationship as a teenager and yet, I found myself wanting her life.  I knew from a young age that God meant for me to marry a pastor, despite teasing to that end.  My mother was the first example I had.  I saw her sitting in the front of the church, singing out on unfamiliar songs, even though she is not a singer by nature.  She taught Sunday school, cleaned the church, looked for cues from my father at meetings to know if, when, and how to vote, and worked hard to keep us fed and clothed on a tight budget.  My sister and I never wanted for anything, and I know that was her doing.

While I never adopted some of her habits, like referring to my husband as “Pastor” in front of church members, I learned what can be gained from being submissive to my husband in front of the congregation and how my respect shows others how to respect him.

When I have struggles as a pastor’s wife, she is one of two people that I call.  The other is my sister.  Yes, we both married pastors.

My sister was nice enough to marry one of my husband’s good friends from college.  Why is that nice?  Because when we get together, the boys can get sent on errands together to allow for us girls to chat, and we don’t have to worry about either of them getting annoyed with us.  Now, the down side of all of us in the family being involved in church work is that we don’t get together very often.  Besides weekends and holidays being off-limits, we live too far apart.  But my cell phone generally has my sister’s number in the “last dialed” list.  She and I commisserate on the difficulties and joys of life in the parish.

When it comes time to talk about the difficulties of raising kids while being married to a pastor, my sister is the first person I will ask to write a guest post (or two, or fifty).  She and her husband have three daughters, all under the age of five.  I know that they have to juggle many more things than I ever could imagine, and I’m so impressed with how well she handles it.

The third pastor’s wife is Jessica, the friend and former roommate I mentioned before.  She got married a year and a half before I did, and she and her husband were still in St. Louis at the seminary, finishing up, when I moved there to find a job before getting married.  She, her husband, and their two daughters live in NYC.  She is the most patient person I know, taking so many things in stride.  When we lived together, despite my ups and downs in relationships and classes (and that year was a doozy for me) she was relaxed and helped me to get over myself.  She’s also a native Ohio-an (anyone know what the right word is?) which I think is funny since I now live here.  The first time I came to this state was for her wedding.  Now I live here, and she lives in New York.  We did live there at the same time, but since we lived on opposite ends of the state only saw each other once when I flew to see her.

While there are others in my life, not just pastor’s wives but church worker wives as well, these are the ones I am closest to.  I’m getting to know the other wives of staff here, which is a new thing for me.  Our last church had a staff of three, basically:  Travis, me, and the secretary.  Her husband never went to church, so I only met him once or twice.  So having a larger church staff with spouses who come to church is a new thing for us.  I’m sure I will have more to share about those relationships in the years to come.

If you know a pastor’s wife, send her here to read.  I’d love to hear the thoughts of other women who have these experiences, my hope is to keep the conversation flowing through the joys and sorrows we all have in common.