Life in Pastor’s House: Holy Week
I have the unique privilege of being married to my pastor. In all honesty, sometimes at home, we forget he is our pastor. Because, if we remembered, we would treat him much, much better. Regular people bake cookies and clean the house in anticipation of the pastor stopping by for a visit. Our dear Dakotapastor is lucky to get dinner without some crabbiness on mine or the children’s parts.
I never set out to marry a pastor.
Dakotapastor never grew up dreaming of building a church, officiating weddings, baptizing God’s children of all ages, or burying the saints.
God, though, had better plans for each of us. My rebellious spirit required some taming when my fresh new, supposed to be an engineer husband decided to switch gears and attend seminary. I’m still probably not what people think of when they picture the pastor’s wife. And that is just fine.
What I am is the wife of a man, and a mother to our children, and a keeper of our home. I’m not always particularly good at any one of those things, but I power through with the help of God.
Which brings us to Holy Week once again. My friend Emily wrote about the wonder of being married to the pastor. I think she stated it all so much better than I can. Let us just leave it at, I’m often awed at the capacity for care and concern my husband has. Pastor’s carry great responsibility and burden. I only hope that I am worthy of the task of being the helpmate to ease that burden.
Holy Week was busy enough when I was “just” my mother’s daughter. Several church services over the course of four days, requiring juggling of meal times and proper dress. Now, I need to add in properly dressing eight of us, getting everyone to church on time, and fed, and not cranky, and keeping track of special pastor clothing, and printing bulletins, and attempting to make great memories with the kids while feasting on traditional Easter foods.
Phew. I’m tired already.
I know that this is not the life that I planned for. It may not even be one that I would wish for. However, it is the life that God has given me. Rather than grumble, I should rejoice in the great privilege!
I pray that your Holy Week is blessed. I pray that as the pastor’s family, we can stop, sit down, and consider all that Christ has done for us. I pray that we build family memories that last.