GIVIN' UP -n - MOVIN' BACK!! Reflections of my first few Sundays, Part I

Well, I’ve been here before – a “pastor’s wife” – but  just as the seasons of our lives change, so too do the expectations we (and others) have as we move through those seasons.  For me, entering back into ministry, has been a welcome change in some ways (and in others, not so much – more on that later=).  I thought I was pretty prepared.  I mean, after all,  I’ve done this before,  I grew up around the whole “thing” all my life, and I’ve even had children and been in the situation before--  but this time I’ve found one big surprise along the way (well, maybe two).

This ONE BIG SURPRISE has been: ME! (And MY expectations)  We usually don’t know what our expectations are until we feel the crunch of distress in one way or another.  I felt it last week and I felt it this week again.  It went like this:

Sunday morning get up to the sound of birds – wonderful!  I praise the Lord.  Get out of bed to my youngest saying “hungy, hungy” right beneath my feet: no problem, I had cinnamon rolls ready to throw into the oven (pat on my back—and still feeling good.)  Today was going to be a GOOD Sunday; the older boys had gone to children’s church without much complaint last week and this week they were sure to go alone- bonus!  Take shower, make little smokies with daughter (bonus #2—working together in the kitchen), serve cinnamon rolls (done to perfection) and little smokies (okay, maybe those were a little more than “done to perfection”), happy family banter and discussion, get self ready while daddy dressed kids (bonus number #3!)…the day was shaping up wonderfully!  Couldn’t find a top that didn’t need ironing, but that too was okay because we STILL had enough time, thanks to dad, for me to iron it and get out the door with a couple minutes to spare.  (Minor distressful thought:  had to take kids early so dad could meet with some men to pray before service—surely they could play in the nursery until service and NOT tear up all the toys?  Hmm…) Get all six of us family members into the car and on our way.  This is going to be a good Sunday.

At the church, kids told to stay with mom while dad went to meet with the men—and daughter throws first minor temper tantrum—a little squeal with an irritated foot tap and a slight whiney “daaadddddy” out of her tight lips that threatens to become loud.(Second minor feeling of distress)  Stop it, let’s go, and head in without getting hit by a car.  Inside, kids go to the nursery as directed (doing okay so far), but now I smell the aroma of fresh dirty diaper.  (Can I call that an “aroma”?)  “Bubbi” needs changed.  Terrible diaper rash causes a panicked, terrified, scream that last as long as the diaper change, no mind, daughter shut the nursery door.  Surely those cute lil’ ol’ ladies greeting at the door would just smile even if they did hear him scream, right?  Older boys break out the baby cars and drive each other crazily between the two connected nursery rooms and almost into me.  (Minor distress rising) Enter another boy adding more crazy driving and diaper change is almost over.  Finish changing diaper, wash hands, all children have disappeared and nursery is quiet.  I almost just sink down into a rocking chair and enjoy it—but then I think of the “crazies” out running around the older people.  Visions of terrible collisions race through my head.  Much work is done to corral the young “ponies” and just in time for dad to meet with the men to pray.  Whew.  But corral them to where? (Distress definitely at a high level, still smiling though!) Pews.  At least I can sit at the end of one pew.  Oldest chose center row number 5—after I insist on not sitting in row #3—and we sit, with most of the 175 other congregation members behind us.  Sigh. But then, “I’m thirsty,”  “I have to go to the bathroom,” “daaaadddyyy” (more tantrum)…it’s only been 5 minutes since we entered the door!  (I can smile no longer.)

I could relate the next 30 minutes to you, but it’d be just as painful for you to read as it was for me to experience as it all just continued and went more downhill.  You moms know exactly what I’m talking about!  Dad made announcements on this Sunday and Bubbi wouldn’t go into the nursery without another 5-minute leech-loving cling time all the while screaming like he was in some sort of excruciating pain.  (Will it ever get better?)  Church starts at 9:25 with service first and by 9:30 I’m thinking, “I GIVE UP!  I’M MOVIN’ BACK!” (to the back of the sanctuary, that is=)