I mean. I knew this. But when chatting with a new friend, she confessed that if she knew before we started chatting that I was the pastor's wife, she wouldn't have talked to me. I TOTALLY got it. Because I would do the same exact thing. I feel the same way about people who exercise. I am friends with people who exercise- obviously- but it's an intimidating thing for me. So if you're wearing work-out clothes and are clearly actually working out regularly- I'll probably stay mute around you. Just your muscles are enough to make me doubt all of my daily choices. Who wants that kind of pressure? Same I guess with pastor's spouses. Just my regular church attendance makes you feel like a heathen.
So I knew this little fact, and I knew that the perception was there, but I guess I thought maybe I was the exception to the rule? Because, you know, I'm cool. Right? Well, I'm actually so uncool. And also, no one will know if they don't talk to me to begin with. So then I wondered- how many normal people just start out avoiding me? How many friends have not been made because someone was afraid to say "shit" around me? Or how many sweet people have I scared away because I said "shit" when they were expecting "bless it?" I'm in that awkward in between. I don't bake or play the piano, I don't bless it or pray it away. I say shit and damn and for the love of pete. I also love the church and have a seminary degree. My undergraduate degree is in Philosophy and if you want to contemplate the meaning of life, expanding love and metaphysics, I'm in.
I'm terrible at fitting into any stereotype- good or bad. A friend of mine does Tarot cards (see- I just threw you off there didn't I?)- he used the whole deck and still had no idea what my future held. I did one of those personality tests on Facebook and my result: 94% complexity. I don't even know what that means (I didn't read it to find out). Since I have a "title" as a spouse of clergy- in some ways I will always be either filling or challenging a person's idea of what that person looks like. It's a trap! It doesn't help that I happen to be awkward, say weird things, don't love crowds or being in charge of things. I'm ridiculously protective of my children against rude people and want to be with them but not all the time. I have really passionate opinions that I have learned to mostly keep to my damn self unless it falls out sideways, then who knows what foot I will stick in my mouth. You know how people go somewhere and say to themselves "these are my people?" The time I felt that feeling most strongly was during an hour of silence with people. Silent people apparently are my people.
So I thought about all the things that go with the stereotype of being a pastor's spouse... and I wrote stuff about it...
I have a love-hate relationship with the church. I don't sing out loud in church because I can't sing and I've listened to enough church music snobs to know better than to throw them off their groove. And when I say this to people - they assure me that I should be making a joyful noise, but I know better than they do because I have heard the meetings and the comments and the ridiculousness- so no- I will not sing in church unless it's my favorite song. Even then, I sing low. I love communion- and kinda wish I was always helping serve it. I also find myself thinking during communion at this new church: who the hell are all these people and why do I still not know them?!
I hate the institutional mud that prevents progress and grace. In fact, I hate it so much that I have become completely apathetic about it and when I hear about conflicts in the church (universal and local), I act like some postmodern prophet who is just so over all that shit. If someone asks me how I feel about a certain topic - I have to think about how my response will affect my husband's ability to do his job. But I also suck at lying- so if someone asks me point blank- I'll answer truthfully. When I listen to my husband (or anyone) preach, half the time I'm dreaming about what I would have preached. During services sometimes I fantasize about complete remodels of the church grounds, sanctuary, parsonage, or even what a church would look like if I could build it from the ground up. Yet at the same time I sometimes look around and wonder what the next evolution of the Church will look like- will it even have buildings?
I have opinions that I choose not to share because I don't want to be put in charge. I slip away some Sundays to go to a different worship environment because I'm not the same faith tradition as my husband. I care about the church but keep it at an arm's length because we move, and the church changes, and people change. I have seen wonderful people get really mean. I have seen mean people be uncommonly kind. And when those same people can literally affect your household income - you learn to stay out of it.
During church when you sit and worry about normal things like being a good person (or when you're at home and enjoying a relaxing day with your family), I'm wondering if my husband remembered to change that one weird line in the sermon that I edited last night. I won't care enough to stress about it- but it'll feel like a missed note in a piano recital that only I notice. During the passing of the peace, I'm trying to manage how to be friendly and not stand-offish, but also not pick favorites, but not ignore people, but smile. I generally say hello only to people in the pew in front and behind me- and act like I physically can't leave my pew. Because if I leave my pew- then I have broadened my parameters beyond my abilities. I have to work on not laughing when my husband does something funny that only I notice- because it's a weird joke that we share about some mannerisms that no one else pays attention to.
I am trying to give my kids the space to develop their own spirituality, while also making sure that their over-comfort with church doesn't offend someone when they are literally lying down in the pew or have their feet up on the bible rack in front of them. When they were really little it was a huge battle just to keep them from running to hug dad- while he's "working." My children dress themselves for church and I have very low standards- because I never want them to think that they have to look a certain way to please God. At the same time I pray that no one mentions their sweatpants or cowlick to me- because I have larger battles to fight and that is not one of them- and I might stick my foot in my mouth again. I've tried not to care about my hair, my makeup, or the way my children are dressed. If I show up clothed and not too late- I've achieved the task I set before me. Even all that has been a few years of working on letting go- and it hasn't been because people don't notice or comment on any of it.
People who get to just GO to church and hide? Or NOT go to church and no one notices? Lucky. That used to be me.
I'm an introvert who likes people a lot and is very friendly. But I have my emotional and physical limits. Church is like my weekly 5K. People talking to me, greeting me, inviting me, asking me, telling me, smiling at me, knowing me, noticing me. None of it is bad but all of it is exhausting. Now add to that the hilarity that I'm deaf. I can hear- I have hearing aids- but it just takes like 7 times more energy for me to actually pay attention to what people are saying and respond with words that have meaning. So let's upgrade church to marathon level. I run a mental marathon every week. With my kids. The longer I'm in the building, the weaker my filter becomes, and the fuzzier my focus becomes. There is- every Sunday- that moment when I know it is time. Time to jet. Time to leave before the chariot turns back into a pumpkin.
I have to wonder if my husband's job (and my job if I go back to chaplaincy) will turn my children away from religion and faith (our collective passion). Do doctors and lawyers worry that their children will despise medicine and law? One of my passions is spiritual exploration, and I often explore beyond the boundaries of the institution that employs my husband and the institution I might need to confirm my ability to serve as a chaplain. That exploration beyond has prevented me once from being ordained as I mentioned in a previous blog. It's a unique field to be employed in. I have no desire for my kids to follow in our footsteps- not because it's so hard- but because it is so lonely.
I have never chosen my own residence. It's kind of hard engaging in conversation with people about housing because I can't relate to any of it except maybe military housing (although your standards of inspection are far higher and scarier than ours). I can't complain about housing costs because we don't pay a mortgage or rent. I can't get excited about housing renovations or even new appliances because we don't have control over that. I can't empathize about down payments, rent increases, or deposits. I can't talk reasonably about why we picked our house because we didn't pick it. I'm even a little embarrassed about where we live in a way because it is so nice and I feel like I'm out of my league. But how do you communicate that? "Sorry my house is so big- we don't pay rent." Sounds great. When people come to our house and compliment us "What a nice house!" I respond with the awkward "Thanks so much- the church owns it- aren't we lucky?" (Hashtag blessed??) How can that not be awkward?
I love living in a parsonage because we don't have the financial burden of fixing the roof when it leaks or replacing the fridge (although I finally decided I DID want to pick my own fridge and just bought it my damn self). However, having grown up in the military, I wonder if I'll ever have a space that's fully mine. A place I chose. I don't want fancy things, I just want someplace where my roots can remain. Even gardening sometimes feels foolish. I feel ungrateful when I complain about living in a house that is essentially free (we pay taxes on it, but no rent). But I see people slowly make their home theirs and I wonder what it would be like to save up for hardwood floors and then do it- without asking anyone's permission. Or to knock out a wall- because we can. Or when the hot water heater dies, to have a choice about what kind of replacement to get- to go tankless or something fun like that. Or to put in a ridiculous thing like a hot tub - because no one is around to judge you for it. Instead, my back yard faces my husband's work: incredibly convenient, but a constant reminder that this is not really our home. Any money we put into it is an offering- and we always try to leave a parsonage better than we found it.
I know things. Because people confess to me. It's an occupational and personality hazard. I appreciate that people feel safe with me. I love it- because there is something sacred that happens when people are willing to be vulnerable with you. It can be a challenge, because I have to be careful who I am vulnerable with. The reason my husband and I are so close (one of them anyway) is because we are each other's confessor. There is no one else. We don't have our own pastor. We don't have our own group in the church that we can be completely real with. We cannot- for integrity - share some of our secrets with anyone. They aren't ours to share.
With all the secrets and heartaches- I see the backstage of the church. In some ways it makes the whole thing more real and beautiful, in others it makes it all feel like a giant facade. I know a lot of people's pain in ways that most people don't get access to. I never want to lose that- it makes me more grateful and vulnerable and compassionate. But it also means that I am shit at shallow. So it can get awkward fast if you just want to talk about your kid's t-ball team. I am thrilled they are in sports- can you tell me your soul's deepest desires? Oh right, we just met. Sorry bout that.
So as you can see, the pastor's spouse is probably someone you'll just want to avoid. It's just too bad it's me.
Thank you for the sheer honesty. Though we've not met, there is so much relate-able writing. I appreciate what you have expressed.
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