I wish it was Sunday.
'Cause that's my funday.
My I don't have to runday.
It's just another manic Monday.
I was a big fan of The Bangles back in the day. I can still sing almost every word of this song. I have no idea why I just admitted that little piece of information to the world...
Anyway.
I was thinking about this song yesterday afternoon. While I am not one to complain about being a pastor's wife (because I actually love it, as you can see in my other posts), it does present unique challenges. One of those challenges happens every week. Sunday.
It is not my funday.
It is not my I don't have have to runday.
There are different schools of thought on the role of the pastor's wife. Many say, "I am just another member of the congregation." And while I agree in terms of the responsibilities you hold being the same as any other member, let's be honest, you are not just another member of the congregation.
Most other members have known each other for a better part of their lives. Most other members have some form of earthly family nearby (and usually part of the congregation). Most other members are not known by name and birthday and home and children's misbehaviors by every other member of the congregation. Most members do not attend a whole other church service after this one because their husband serves two congregations.
I am not just another member.
I sit with my three children three and under alone. I get my kids ready in the morning alone. I drive to church (including three to be buckled into five point harness carseats) alone. I manage a diaper bag, an infant carseat, coats when we need them, church quiet bags, and hands of toddlers alone. I have a new respect for the single moms of the world. I pray for them. I am exhausted for them.
But then, unlike the single moms, I slide into a pew with three small children who make it their JOB to get to their daddy (who happens to be that man up there). I am pretty convinced that when a whole Sunday gets over without one of them reaching him, it is only because God placed angels with swords guarding the two ends of the pew...and underneath the pew in front of us...and behind us.
I pray those angels visit every week.
Most Sundays I leave feeling defeated. I go hoping to hear my sins forgiven. I go hoping to see God's Gifts given to my church family. I go hoping to be filled with Truth. I leave feeling as if none of that happened. I didn't catch much after the cheerios spilled and two toddlers crushed them into the padded seats or after the baby insisted that even though I fed her 15 minutes ago she HAD to be nursed.
Again, most Sundays I leave feeling defeated.
That is the funny thing about feelings. They play tricks on you. They cannot be fully trusted. I know God's Word does what it says. God does not depend on me to do His work. I go hoping for the same things I actually receive, even when I don't feel that way. Sure, I long for the day when I actually hear a whole sermon. I long for the day when my children say all the liturgy with us. I long for the day when my husband gets to sit with us in the pew...
And God gives me little sneak peeks of those moments - my toddlers sit up straight and actually seem to listen, my baby sleeps quietly through a whole service, my sons say the pastor's part of the liturgy with him, and my husband sits with me on the rare occasion of a non-member's funeral or on vacation.
A friend of mine recently reminded me that there are many seasons of life. When this season is over, another season with teenagers will come...then a season with fewer children at home...then a season of empty nesting...then a season of grandchildren...each season with unique pastor's family challenges.
As I have said before, I actually love being a pastor's wife. God has given me two congregations full of people who love my husband, my kids, and me. He answers my prayer for those angels by giving us pew buddies to stand guard. He gives us Christians to live in communion with. This should not be taken for granted, but all these are just given to me as excess blessings. I have already received the greatest Gifts - His forgiveness, His righteousness, and His Body and Blood.
And when I really didn't hear any of the sermon, I am lucky enough to live with the man who spoke it.
He can fill me in later.
