Preacher's Wife Tremors

The title, Preacher's Wife, initially sent tremors through me as I had visions of a troup of white-gloved ladies bustling into the parsonage to inspect for dust. Or of swarms of blue-haired gossipers. Or of a fishbowl family surrounded by figures with bulbous and critical eyes. Or of a list of expected duties, committees, and aptitudes a mile long. It seems that all the stories I heard about being a pastor's wife in seminary held some sort of betrayal or travesty. Maybe because those were the most fun to tell. I braced myself for the inevitable.
We moved into this parsonage ten years ago this February, fresh out of seminary. I remember seeing daffodils poking up along the front hedge, and feeling hopeful. There was homemade potato salad and gumbo in our fridge to welcome us. Someone had supplied us with a new mower and yard tools, waiting to be discovered in the garage. We giggled over the misprint in the bulletin inviting everyone to welcome us by attending "Bill and Julia's Panty Shower." It felt almost too good to be true, and I looked for the dark underside. What I found instead were largely accepting and appreciative folks, allowing us to blunder, discover, grow and lead.

Still, the critical voices and judgements I most feared have definitely been present: largely in my own mind. I've found that I can be my own worst enemy at times. It's when I assume someone's expression is due to something I (or my husband) said or left unsaid, when it could be indigestion. Or when I berate myself for how I should be dressing my kids, should have it all together, or should have mind-read to know what that person needed before they asked. If there is a conflict, I'm quick to assume I did it, or that Bill did. During budget season, and the annual "Sermon on the Amount", I squirm, fearing that people will think we are yet another money hungry Christian establishment. I torment myself imagining people's scrutiny of our salary package and try to be elsewhere for the congregational vote.

Over time, I am learning that these fears are unfounded, and that when conflict arises, it's to be moved through, not side-stepped or avoided all-together. I believe I am learning to kick the imagined blue-haired, white-gloved ladies out of my head, and to extend the same grace to myself and to my husband that I seek to offer to others.