A Gift


Four days before our eighth anniversary 

We walked out of a church service

That changed everything.

And nothing.

The next morning I washed a load of towels and combed little girl hair and cleaned offices.

Like usual.

But my mind kept asking, “What does it even mean to be a pastor’s wife?”

This job came without instructions.

The questions only breed more questions.

As we stumble toward a new normal,

I remember when we stepped outside to go home that night.

He held me long as we watched the rain.

He whispered, “I’ve loved you for eight years and I’ll love you for eighty more.”

And I knew he meant, “Please don’t change. I still need you to be you.”

His words were the gift I didn’t know I needed.

Permission to rest.

An invitation to flourish.

Comments

  1. Oh my dear, those last two phrases make my heart lurch with understanding and joy.!

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  2. Oh how I relate to these feelings! I came home from my husband’s ordination last September wondering what it means to be a pastor’s wife (haven’t discovered it yet ;)). I too love your last two sentences, and long to claim them as my own. Blessings on you both.

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