Reality: Vocation Woes

There are articles upon articles written about how hard it is to be a pastor's family.  And while I fully admit the difficulties, I am put off by the tone and expressions used to convey them.  Being a pastor's family is the best vocation on this side of eternity.  There are struggles, there are crosses to bear, there are days and weeks (and probably months, if I am being honest) that make it hard to admit how great we have it, but the truth is, there is not a single better way to spend your life than to watch your husband give God's Gifts to those whom you love.

To all my fellow pastors' families, this is not written to make you think you have it easy.  I am quite aware of how hard it can be sometimes.  I am aware of the uncertainty.  I am aware of the loneliness.  I am aware of the moments you watch your husbands bear more burdens than one man can handle.  I am aware of the stereotypes and expectations.  I am aware of the hurtful statements that can be said (in total innocence or in total defiance).  I am aware.  And I know you are too.  It is hard.  Sometimes it is harder than others.  

I recently had a conversation with a grown-up pastor's kid.  She flippantly told my husband and I about how her co-workers are trying to get her to enjoy the holidays because, "Well, I was a pastor's kid and that time of the year...well, I just saw how crazy my parents got and how ridiculous it was for him...It was just too much.  I just don't like this time of the year."  

Wow, dagger to the heart of every pastor/dad and mom/pastor's wife who ever lived.  

But, wow, what a reminder for me.  

The way I talk about my vocation matters.

The way I live out my vocation in front of others matters.

The way I think about my vocation matters.

Maybe this is a lot of Law.

I don't know about you, but sometimes I need to hear a lot of Law. 

All the times I speak viciously about our God-given vocations...

All the times I live in a way that shows others how much I can despise our God-given vocations...

All the times I think poorly about our God-given vocations...

All those have already been forgiven.  

So, now, I go in peace this holiday season - living as one who is forgiven.  

May that be how I think and speak about my vocation.

May that be what my children remember about the holiday season.  

May that be how they live out their holiday seasons this side of eternity.

Reality: Children Need Fathers

1.  My children need to see a man royally screw up AND then watch him humble himself by apologizing and repenting.  They need to see a man live as one who is forgiven.

2.  My children need to fall and scratch their knees.  They need to get hurt.  They need to be cuddled by the strong embracing arms of a man who will bend down and kiss that knee as many times as it takes to heal it.

3.  My children need strong discipline.  They need to hear the firm command of their father.  They need to disobey, apologize, and hear their father's forgiving voice.

4.  My children need to see a man read his Bible, receive Christ's Gifts in church, and pray (more than just before he eats).  They need to know it is possible to be manly and humble.

5.  My children need to see a man love a woman like Christ loves the Church.  They need to see him sacrifice.  They need to watch him put his needs below the needs of his bride. My children need stability.  They need leadership.  They need a head of household.  They need to watch their mother honor their father.  They need to see a healthy marriage built by God.

6.  My children need to watch their father and mother kiss, hold hands, hug, and show affection.  They need to learn that sexuality is beautiful when it is between husband and wife.  They need to see what joy awaits them in marriage.

7.  My children need a protector.  They need a safety net.  They need an un-emotional ear to listen. 

When my husband proposed seven years ago, he gave me seven gifts each representing completion.  

As a married couple, we complete each other.  

As parents, we do the same.  

My children need their father.  

All children need fathers.

Fathers complete mothers.

Thank you for completing me, my love.  

Reality: Why I don't go to the bathroom.

This morning my husband scolded me (sarcasm) for saying that I don't have time to go to the bathroom during the day.  We often talk about this conundrum.  My usual response is, "Don't you think I would go...if I could!"

So, why don't I go to the bathroom?

Here is how it usually goes -

My thought:  Oh, I have to pee...wait, new potty trainer hasn't gone in awhile...have to take him.

Upon finding said potty trainer, he is having an accident.

My thought:  AHHHH!  One minute too late!  Off to the bathroom we go.  Note to self, remember to clean up pee.  Note to self, remember to go to the bathroom while you are in there.

New potty trainer completes bathroom trip, and baby starts screaming.  I finish potty trainer up quickly, and dash out to get baby. 

My thought:  Rats, I forgot to go.  Go now.  Take the baby.  It will be fine.  Don't forget to clean up that pee.

About this time, I hear a fight break out in the living room between two toddler boys.

Them:  Mine.  NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Mine.

My thought:  Just go pee.  Ignore them........no, go stop them.  Better to catch them now than when they have started hitting.

As the two toddlers are passing out apologies and hugs, I take a dash toward the bathroom with baby in hand.  Then, she spits up.  Not just a little.

My thought:  OK, grab new clothes for me.  While I am changing, I will pee.  For real this time.  Then I have to clean up that pee from earlier.

As I am reaching in my drawer, I hear someone slip and fall.  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!  Yes, a toddler did just wipe out in that spot of pee. 

My thought:  I am such a terrible mother.  I should have cleaned up that pee earlier.  This is my fault.  Poor baby.

Snuggles for the toddler.  Baths for everyone.  We all have pee on us now. 

So, you might be thinking, "Of course she went pee while she was in the bathroom giving baths, right?" 

.......................................

Not so much.  I forgot I had to go.  Have you ever tried to bathe a 3 year old, a 2 year old, and a 3 month old?  Let's just say that there was a lot of peeing going on, but it wasn't me.

I just spent 15 minutes writing this blog post.  I should have gone pee.

Reality: Somebody Vs. Everything

Let me tell you a story.  I used to be somebody.  I don't mean to toot my own horn (in reality, I do), but I was good at what I did.  I was really good at it.  Out in the workforce, there are accolades to gain, plaques to be given, stories to be written in the news, congratulations thrown about for achievements -   it is a pretty "pat yourself on the back" kind of world out there, and it feels good.  And in that world, I was somebody to a lot of people. 

Then I decided to stay home with our kids.

As a stay-at-home mom, you choose to lose your identity (or at least that is the choice I made).  I became, "(insert child's name here)'s mom." You choose to give up the chance of accolades, plaques, news articles, and congratulations.  You choose to give up being a somebody.

In exchange for being a somebody to those out there, you become an everything to those in here.

There is a huge amount of responsibility that comes with being somebody's everything.  When you are an everything, your strengths and mostly your failures shine brighter.  They are reflected in the eyes of those who see you as everything.

When I was a somebody, I did it well.  But...

For every judicial meeting I conducted, another somebody out there could have done it. 

For every handbook I wrote, another somebody could have written it. 

For every meeting I conducted, another somebody could have ran it.

Sure, maybe they wouldn't have done it as marvelously as I did (sarcasm), but they could have done it.  They could have earned the accolades, the plaques, the news stories, and the congratulations.

When you are an everything, you are irreplaceable. 

That is why I chose to stay home with my kids.  That is why I chose to give up being a somebody. 

The world out there has so many shiny things.  It is enticing.  It is delicious.  In my little world, where I am everything there are no shiny things (besides the dishes I so marvelously cleaned).  It is intimate.  It is long-lasting.  It is home. 

Someday, maybe my children will be somebodies. 

Someday, I hope my children will be somebody's everything.  

Reality: Adoption Love

When people feel close enough to me to be REALLY honest, they ask the hard questions.  This does not bother me.  I like it.  Actually, I love it.  I love honesty, even when honesty is difficult.  Maybe I love honesty ESPECIALLY when it is difficult.  Honesty is real.  Honesty is messy.  I like it.

So, here is today's honest question and hopefully even more honest response...

Do you love children who were adopted as much as those who are biological?

Yikes.  This is real, people.  Where to begin?

To start, let's talk about love.

The simplest definition that I can come up with for the word "love" -
acting in a way that puts the needs of another above your own wants and needs.
Do I do this?  Sometimes...maybe...with the help of God, I do.  Many times I do not.

Love is not a feeling.  It brings feelings with it, of course.  I can feel my heart beat a little faster when my husband walks in the room after being away.  I can feel my heart actually bursting with emotion for my children.  I can feel my heart fill with warmth and joy when my parents hug me.  Sure, I feel in love, but the love is not a feeling.

Love is a decision.

The love between a husband and wife is a great example of this.  Each day, husbands must choose to love their wives.  They must choose to act for their wives.  Maybe that action is working hard.  Maybe that action is cooking dinner.  Maybe that action is taking out the trash.  And each day, wives must choose to love their husbands.  They must choose to act for their husbands.  Maybe that action is working hard.  Maybe that action is cooking dinner.  Maybe that action is taking out the trash.  The point is that they choose to act.

When I say I love my children, I mean I love them...
and I mean I am in love with them.

When I say I love my children, I mean I choose to act for them...
and I feel what comes along with that action.

Each day, parents must choose to love their children.  They must choose to act in a way that puts their children's needs above their own wants and needs.

The reality is - children are not always easy to feel in love with.  Who is?

They are tiny humans who know your buttons better than anyone else (besides maybe your spouse).  They will choose to push those buttons during the most embarrassing times.  They want...no DEMAND your attention during the most inopportune times.  They force you to make the decision to love them each and every moment of your life.

And the more love acts you do for them...
maybe that act is working hard,
maybe that act is cooking dinner,
maybe that act is taking out the trash,

the more you feel in love.

So, do I love my son who was adopted as much as my son and daughter who are biological?

You better believe it...
with the help of God.

Reality: Why I am Lutheran

There are probably a lot of correct answers to this question.  I don’t always answer with the most theologically sound responses.  I don’t always answer with the most politically correct responses.  I will, however, try to answer with the most honest response.

Why am I a Lutheran? 

There was this boy and I liked him.  I liked him enough to walk into a Lutheran service to surprise him one Sunday.  I must have liked him a lot.  I was scared of a Lutheran service.  The only thing I knew about it was that it was “like a catholic mass.”  That was enough for me, a good little Nazarene girl, to stay clear.   I didn’t know much about the theology of Roman Catholicism, but I did know that their mass just seemed so distant.  It seemed confusing, rehearsed, boring, unchanging, and stuffy.  If Lutherans were like them, I just didn’t think it was for me. 

But…the boy.  So I went.

That first Sunday was everything I thought it would be – confusing, rehearsed (except by me), boring, unchanging, and stuffy.  I was not hooked.  I was anything but hooked by the service, but, alas, I was hooked by the boy. 

So, week after week, I kept giving it a try.  I didn’t go because I enjoyed the service.  I didn’t go because I thought I fit in there.  I didn’t go because I felt connected to God.  I honestly went because of the boy.  But something happened in those weeks that I kept following him to church.  I began to recognize the flow of the service.  I began to hear familiar tunes.  I began to recognize little nuances of the prayers matching the hymn matching the sermon.  Over a few weeks, the confusing, rehearsed, boring, unchanging, and stuffy service became interesting, familiar, intriguing, unchanging (in a totally awesome way), and freeing. 

It took some effort on my part to get there.  I could have gone in, thought, “This is terribly confusing,” and never tried again.  I actually had to try to pay attention.  I had to follow the lead of others more matured in the liturgy than me.  I found myself looking for the connections in the service.  I found myself diving into how the words we were saying were actually IN THE BIBLE!  I found myself more interested by church than I had ever been. 

This is not a statement against my parents or my former churches or pastors.  I am extremely grateful for the Christian home and churches I have been blessed to be a part of my whole life.  Growing up Nazarene gave me the greatest respect for reading, learning, and memorizing the Bible.  What an amazing gift to be given – the love of the Scriptures!  To this day, when people ask me the difference between Nazarenes and Lutherans, I say, “As a Nazarene, I was taught the Bible.  As a Lutheran, I have been given the lenses to understand it.”  That is what Lutheranism gave to me – a really great pair of glasses.  And the most influential part of those glasses was taught to me through the liturgy.  Week after week I was being taught the Confessions through strong liturgy.  I was reciting the Bible (many texts I had memorized from my Nazarene days) every week.  I was immersed in God’s Word every Sunday. 

For people who say that a liturgical Lutheran service is confusing, rehearsed, boring, unchanging, and stuffy – I would agree with you at first.  It is scary not knowing what everyone else knows.  It is intimidating when you don’t know how to use a hymnal.  But the exact things that felt scary and intimidating to me in the beginning are the exact things that I treasure most now.  I can travel almost anywhere and find a church within driving distance that will feel just like home.  I don’t walk in like a stranger anymore, even when I am a stranger in this world. 

And about being unchanging?  Oh, thanks be to God that the service is unchanging.  Bring on the boringness of sameness.  In this world, we are inundated with newness, change, excitement, and pizzazz.  Our God is an unchanging God.  The same yesterday, today, and forever.  I love thinking of the liturgy as a reflection of that aspect of God.  I don’t get that anywhere else in my life.  I get it in Church.  Thanks be to God.  How amazing is it to know that the saints of old were saying those same words?  How amazing is it to know that, God willing, my children and grandchildren will continue to say the same words each Sunday?  Unchanging bad?  No, most certainly not.  Unchanging good.

Thank God for the liturgy. 

The most amazing part of the liturgy is the fact that the more I learn about it, the more I want to know.  The more I know about it, the more I learn about the Bible.  Actually becoming an informed lay person has made me want to be more informed. It is not boring; it is intriguing.  It has very deep rooted beliefs bleeding throughout it.  I just had to be willing to learn about it a little.

I do not need something new in my life.  I have too many new things.  What I need is something old.  I need something interesting, familiar, intriguing, unchanging, and freeing.  

That is why I am a Lutheran.

Reality: In the Stead of Christ

In the middle of the chaos there is always a good Wednesday afternoon awaiting me.  It is the 3-4 hours when I can rest a little more, get some good soup cooking going on, go shopping with just one child, or spend a few quiet moments with my husband while all the kids sleep.

My husband works a lot of evenings as a pastor, so he takes Wednesday afternoons as his "evening off." Then he heads back in for office hours and Bible study, but for those few hours, I get to do what I want, or more realistically, what I need to do.

As life is being married to a pastor, there really are no for sures.  Some women say living a "maybe life" is a bit too rough.  Us PWs live with husbands who are on-call 24/7.  Honestly, sometimes it is exhausting.  I can't sugarcoat that part.  I would be lying if I said it was easy.

But...

People get sick.
People die.
People get in accidents.
People have to make life and death decisions for their loved ones.
People have broken marriages.
People live in a broken and sickening world.

And who do people need in these moments?  They need Christ.  Some may say they need their pastor, but he is only the man who stands in His stead.  They are right to believe they need this man, because he brings The Man.  The pastor's hands hold the Body and Blood of the Man whose hands healed the sick and raised the dead.  This is The Man these hurting, sick, and dying people need.

When the phone rings and I hear his voice change...

I see the worry in his eyes.
I notice the sideways glance in my direction that says to me,

"I am so sorry...I really need to go now...even though I promised the boys I would go to the park...even though I know you haven't been out of the house in days...even though we were just about to sit down for family lunch...,"

When I see this, I know that Christ is needed in someone's life.

It may disrupt my day.  It may fail my plans to hit up Hobby Lobby.  It may ruin my idea of the amazing homecooked meal I had planned.  And sometimes, my sinful self may feel jealous or angry.  For that, I repent.  I repent with no excuses.

My husband stands in the stead of Christ.  His hands serve His Body and Blood.  His mouth speaks His Word.  He brings the Gospel into the Law-filled lives of people.

Surely my Hobby Lobby trip can take its place on the back burner.