Journey Together

A few years ago, when Zach was finalizing his decision to become a Pastor in the United Methodist Church, and going through the steps to make that decision a reality, we had lunch with a, at the time, dear friend.  It was during this lunch that I was told by this friend that I was not cut out to be a Pastor's wife.  I was told that I could very likely hinder my husband's ministry unless I chose to change who I was.  This conversation, which was less a conversation and more an attack (in my honest opinion), left me feeling many things.  Anger, indignation, betrayal, and, most of all, insecurity.  It was the last thing I needed to hear at this point in our lives.  We had already accepted a job at a new church, in a new town, things were already in motion, there was no going back now.

I returned home from that lunch and promptly cried buckets of tears.  Zach and I discussed, at length, whether or not we thought this friend was correct in his assessment of me.  My dear husband reassured me repeatedly that I would not hinder his career in anyway, which, I'll admit, I only half believed.  I didn't choose this life.  I married a man who was going to school for business.  When we got married we both only worked part time at the church, helping with the youth.  There was a time when Zach worked full-time in sales, both of us thinking that this was his future.  I never would have thought that God would call him into full time ministry.

Since that afternoon three years ago, I have met many Pastor spouses.  Each one has taught me that there is no one way to live this life.  Each one is different in personality, in gifts, in weaknesses.  Each one has a different opinion of their role in the church and in the ministry of their pastor spouse.  I've been told by more experienced spouses that I have permission to choose my own path.  True, not everyone in the church we are sent to will like me, not everyone will agree with my chosen path, regardless of what it is.  You simply can not please everyone all of the time.

Still, with this knowledge and with these great mentors in my own life, the insecurity persists.  I have not been able to rid myself of the voice of that friend, hearing it in the back of my mind each and every day.  There have been moments, times of despair and uncertainty, that I lament "I am not cut out for this life!"  I cry out to God,"How could Zach be so obviously called to ministry, to being a Pastor, and I am not called to go with him?!"  These moments occur more often than I would like to admit.

However, last week I was able to go to the Annual Conference of the New Mexico United Methodist Churches.  This was my first time at Conference and I quite enjoyed it, despite the long business sessions.  There was a special speaker at Conference, Pastor Jorge Acevedo, who said quite a few things that was life giving to me.  One such thing was, "Comparison is not of the devil, it is the devil."  I would imagine that all of us are guilty of comparing ourselves with others.  It doesn't usually lead to anything good.  Pastor Acevedo had many good things to say, particularly at the Ordination Service.  I found myself getting inspired, inspired to do ministry.  Inspired to do ministry with my husband, excited and emotional, thinking of the day when he will finally be ordained.  Then, like a light turning on, sitting in that service, it occurred to me.  I am called to this life.  Sure, my calling looks nothing like Zach's, and it looks nothing like the spouses of other Pastor's, but it's a calling all the same.  I know I help Zach do ministry when I am at home with the kids feeling useless.  I help when he can go where he needs to go, do what he needs to do, and he knows that I have things handled at home.  I help when I support him unconditionally, when he knows I am willing to go with him wherever his ministry takes him.  I must stand firm in the faith that God has called all of us, in some fashion, and I must not be tempted to compare my calling with others.  I also must remember that as we continue along our paths, the view will change but the destination is unwavering.

I can not promise that I will not have moments of insecurity, of doubt, of worry, moments where I compare myself with someone else.  I can not promise that everyone will like me or agree with my choices.  I can only continue on the best that I know how, hand in hand with my husband, in the full and comforting embrace of our Father, enveloped in the unending and unwavering grace that is offered to us all.

May I please offer a plea to all my church going friends, laity and clergy both, to stop comparing, but to love one another, encourage and uphold the calling in one another, even if it looks different that what we expect or desire?  Thank you for reading.  It means more to me than you know.

Growing pains

I'd like to tell you a story.  Before I begin, however, let me give you some background information.

We have been living in our new town, with Zach serving at his new church since the end of June.  In that time, there has been lots of changes and upheaval for our family.  Finding a routine for the kids and I to get in to has been a challenge, and continues to be more than four months into this new life.  Sundays have proven to be the most challenging part of finding our new normal.  There are three services that Zach must be at.  He leaves our house often before 7:00 on Sunday mornings.  Two services are held at one church, one right after the other, with the third being held at another church, in another town, more than twenty minutes away.  What is a preacher's wife and family to do?  Most weeks I try to make it to two of those services, one in each church, though there are times that I just don't have it in me to sit through two services with my three kids so I choose one.  Then of course, there's always the one service, the earliest one, that I have only been to a few times.

Now, on to the story and the purpose of this post:

Not too long ago the kids and I got up to go to the earliest service, the one we have only been to on occasion.  I sat in the front, with the three kids.  I tried to smile at those around me and most people wouldn't even meet my eye.  That's okay, it's early, most of these people have no clue who I am.  The kids are tired, cranky, hot and uncomfortable.  The youngest one is crawling all over me, fidgeting to stay awake, but really wanting to go to sleep.  We make it to the end of the service and I work on gathering the water bottles, church bag, my purse, and loose bulletins.  An older woman walks up to us, she's the first one to talk to us since we walked in the front door.  She goes right up to Noah, who has been upset because of something his sister did or said, and asks him why he didn't stand during the last song, saying, "Is there something wrong with you?"

Noah immediately backs away from her, this stranger whom he has never met.  My six year old has no idea how to respond to this question and chooses to say nothing instead.  The lady glances at me for the first time, asks if its our first visit here and then offers the kids some candy.  I left flabbergasted.  I managed to make it to my car before I broke down into tears.  I went home depressed and feeling like I am the worst mom alive, the worst preacher's wife, a failure.

Now, I understand that I am a sensitive person.  I also admit to reading into things, intentions that weren't ever there.  However, I also know that had I been a visitor I would never go back to that church because of how my kids and I were treated, because of how a few people made me feel, whatever their true intentions were.

I know a lot of my readers are church goers, many of you are leaders in your congregation.  I am begging you to think about how you treat young families, visitors, and anyone else.  Think about how you go about greeting people, how you handle those people who may be "doing it wrong."

I have written before about having kids in church (you can see those here and here).  It's hard, whether you have one or five.  We are trying to teach our kid how to behave in an environment that is often unforgiving of mistakes or missteps.  Our kids are expected to sit quietly, to understand the traditions and routines, to be still, and to be happy.  How are they expected to learn anything without messing up on occasion?

Let me tell you another story:

Another Sunday, and another service finds us once again sitting on the front row, belongings strewn about, but this time we are in another sanctuary, surrounded by different people.  My kids are happy and this creates a new set of challenges.  They want to play, they want to talk, they want to run up and give their daddy a hug.  Ryann, the three year old wants to dance to the music.  Her dress has a twirly skirt and that's amazing and doesn't everyone want to see?  I am exhausted, and frustrated, and once again feeling like I'm failing.  The end of the service comes and I try to gather my wits and belongings without crumbling.  An older woman comes up to me.  Great. Here we go again.  She puts a hand on my arm and says, "I want you to know that we love seeing your kids up here.  I know it can be frustrating for you, but we love it. You are doing a good job of handling them by yourself."

Friends, this is love.  This is what will bring people back, bring people into a relationship.  There was no judgement, just encouragement.

Being a parent is hard.  Being a parent who tries to bring their family to church is hard.  Young families today have so much vying for their attention and time.  Often both parents work full time jobs and Sundays may be the only time for families to spend together.  For them to come spend an hour or more at church is an achievement in itself.  It means they are there because they want to be, whatever reason that may be.  They will often want to keep their family together during that hour of worship, for good reason.  However, there's a good chance that their younger ones are still learning about what church is, and how to behave.  Their parents are likely still learning about how to best handle their little ones while figuring everything out.  Be kind. Be encouraging.  Be helpful.  Love.  Think about your words before you offer any kind of observation or "helpful" advice.  Think about how your words, whatever their intention, may sound to an overwhelmed mother or father.  Think about how your criticisms may sound to that visitor, who doesn't understand or know about "how we do things."  If we expect to have a church in thirty years, we need to practice loving and encouraging more, and criticizing less.

Thoughts? I'd love to hear from you.

What a friend...

I'm sitting at the dining room table, catching up on some work and trying to savor my cup of coffee.  There's no school today and I am steeling myself for the inevitable nonstop bickering between my kids.  The two oldest are up, playing in Noah's room until they migrate into their playroom.  I hear Noah, frustrated with the drawing activity on his Leapster, proclaim, "Zoe! I'm trying to draw you a Zebra but I just cant do it!"  You see, little brother knows his sister's favorite animal has always been a Zebra.  He's trying so hard to do something nice for her.  Zoe, with patience that would rival most adults, responds like this,"That's okay.  Maybe you should try to draw something you know how to draw, like a dog.  You draw great dogs."  Just like that, Noah's frustration melts away.

I marvel at the relationship my kids have with one another.  They bicker so much.  They yell, fight, sometimes hit (always an "accident" of course), and make one another cry more than any two people I know.   However, they also comfort, soothe, encourage, and support one another in ways that warm this mom's heart.  The picture below is one of my all time favorites.  I had been trying to get a good picture of the kids in their Fourth of July outfits.  Zoe was not feeling it.  She was upset and frustrated about something I obviously didn't understand.  Noah probably didn't understand either.  However, his reaction to his sister was different than that of an aggravated mother.  He grabbed her in a huge, genuine hug, and her reaction was just picture perfect.  With that act, that love he showed her, Noah was able to turn the day around for all of us.

Our church is in the middle of a sermon series on friendship so I've been thinking a lot about what makes a good friend.  Honestly folks, good friends are hard to come by.  There aren't always very many people with whom we feel completely comfortable around.  People that take us as we are, "wart's and all" and love us unconditionally.  People who are honest and loving at the same time.

Zach and I understand that the path we've chosen in life, being a pastor in the United Methodist Church, means that we will move probably more often than we will like.  I worry sometimes about how this lifestyle will affect our children.  Seeing moments like I witnessed this morning, my kids truly being each other's best friends, eases my heart somewhat.  I think we would all consider ourselves blessed indeed to have a friend like they have found in one another.

May we also take the time to consider, "How have I been a friend to someone lately."  What act of genuine love and support have you shown to someone recently?  I know I could take a lesson from my kids today.

Blessings to you and yours, thanks for reading.

Ramblings of a Simple Mom

For those of you who know me, and for those of you who have read this blog before, you probably know that I have pretty definite opinions on a lot of things.  Sometimes my opinions are appreciated, most of the time they are not.  I'm slowly learning to become okay with that, working hard to keep my mouth shut most of the time.

I'm also a mom. And a Christian. And, for several years, I was an employee in the church.  You put all three of those together and it creates a combination of experiences that make it hard for me to keep my mouth shut in certain areas.  


It's difficult being a parent.  Social media has made it more difficult.  I constantly see posts from other moms, on Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram, or what have you, with activities they are doing with their child, or are planning to do with their child.  I have been guilty of thinking to myself, "I'm a terrible mother.  Most days we just are trying to make it to bedtime without loosing it."  I don't believe I'm alone in that.  The other day I came across a post on Facebook that was something like "50 activities to keep your 1 year old entertained."  My first thought was "I'm supposed to be entertaining my one-year old?"  This thought was followed by a flash of mom guilt.  Then I looked at my baby, toddling around the house, pulling all the magnets off the refrigerator, and decided she was doing a pretty good job entertaining herself.

It's considered a bad word in our house to say that you are "bored."  When I was growing up, my mom would tell us "Only boring people get bored."  When my seven year old uses that word, which she has learned to not use it often, I immediately give her all sorts of ideas of things she can do to occupy her time: clean her room, read a book, sweep the floors, etc.

When I see posts like the one I referenced above, it frustrates me.  What is with our culture that makes us feel like we need to entertain our kids all the time?  So many kids are growing up, not knowing how to play, to explore, to sit quietly.  As I type this, my four year old is in his room, quietly coloring.  Occasionally we will do a special little project, but I love that he can spend a day entertaining himself.  No mom guilt here.

It's okay for our children to learn to sit quietly.  I posted a link on Facebook this morning to a post entitled "Sunday School is killing the church."  This post discussed the danger of having children in a service separate from the adults, never learning what it means to be a part of the Body.  I have always felt very strongly about this topic.  As a mom, I want my kids there beside me.  I want them to learn the liturgy, to sit still, to listen, things that many of our young adults struggle with.  They will learn, they will form opinions, and hopefully, when they are older, participating in church will be a part of their lifestyle.  Hopefully, they will also learn, that church can be fun, at times, and those times that may not be labeled as "fun" can be very fulfilling.

Thanks for sticking with me through my ramblings.  May you find joy in the simple things.