When we first moved into our new house, the new pastor and his family, Sawyer drew a picture. It was me, in our huge beautiful kitchen, wearing an apron, making a cherry pie. He drew this sweet portrait despite the fact that I have never made a cherry pie in my life. In fact, Sawyer has probably never seen me make a pie of any kind. And he has definitely never seen me wear an apron. But, it seems that in his precious five year old way he believes that making cherry pies is what pastors’ wives do. And, you had better believe that as soon as he showed me his picture I started searching for a cherry pie recipe because I’m always looking for some way to impress my little people. If a cherry pie does it, just call me Betty Crocker.
Sawyer has expectations of the pastor’s wife. And so do many others, I’m sure. Pastors wives should be gracious, always loving, always hospitable, always encouraging, and always spiritually minded, we imagine. But, the truth is that pastors and their wives are imperfect people. And if we claim they will ALWAYS do the absolute best thing, we may as well be drawing an imaginary picture of me in the kitchen.
So, here I am, two weeks into my first foray as a pastor’s wife, and I don’t feel any different. No, I didn’t suddenly become more spiritual. I didn’t hear a choir of angels singing on Chad’s first Sunday in the pulpit. I haven’t learned how to dress myself better or how to stop worrying. I didn’t wake up that first Sunday suddenly more in tune with my husband, my friends, my children, or my fellow Christians.
The truth is I am no different today than I was two weeks ago. I’m still desperately in need of God’s help, His grace, and His wisdom. I’m still unsure of myself, too quick to speak when I should be quiet, too proud, and too anxious. I still worry that I’m mothering too much or not mothering enough. I still cry over dumb TV shows and laugh at inappropriate times. And I still haven’t learned to cook.
I make lots of mistakes. I need a Savior every single day.
Weak. That’s me. I’m the poster child for God-can-use-anybody.
And I am a pastor’s wife.
I’m so thankful for gracious people. For sweet goodbyes and welcoming arms and for all the things God works out while we’re worrying about something else. We can all just be real and admit that we don’t have it together. Weakness is human, and we are so human. But, we serve a God who is Everything. Whatever, we lack, He is. He fills in the gaps. He make us whole. He completes the package.
So, cherry pies and aprons are in my future. May I seek to please my Savior the way I seek to please my sweet blue-eyed boy. God deserves our best. He imagines what we could never see ourselves being, and then He clears a path to make it possible. After all, I am a pastor’s wife, and I am a cherry pie baker. So let it be.