The Dutch Rush

They're Dutch and Life's a Rush

 

How precious a thing is the [family]. Is it not worth some sacrifice in time, energy, safety, discomfort, work?  Does anything come forth without work?

-Edith Schaeffer

 

Some books change your life. But you don’t realize it till much later.

What is a Family?” by Edith Schaeffer is one of those for me.

Another was “Auntie” Leila’s blog. I have learned so much. I’m grateful.

Hard Work mixed with encouragement and grace has been a major theme of their writing. They remind us that it’s normal for it to take a lot  of work to make a home, cook from scratch, and keep the laundry ahead of the nakedness.

I’ve needed these ladies to remind me that life will never be perfect, and that perfection shouldn’t be our goal.

We can (and should) work hard, love each other, and do special things for our family.  But when the goal of ultimate perfection creeps in, it causes unhappiness and discontent.

Reading old books reminds me of how amazing it is that we have plumbing and appliances that make this a good day to be a wife and mother!

Yet somehow no matter how many “work savers” we have, the fact remains…there is a lot of work to do every day.  It is my experience that the more I try to run from it, the worse it feels.

It’s only when I make myself get right into the mess and work, that things start to change. For dramatic effect we could also call it “heading into the eye of the storm”, because honestly, some days that’s what it feels like.

But those old books also remind me that we have grabbed some strange beliefs in our culture. Maybe we were sold some lies when we weren’t looking.

We’ve been told that having children is hard enough, so we shouldn’t be expected to also cook, clean, and keep things running for our hard working husbands.

We’ve been told that we “deserve a break”, and sometimes we take that to mean something it doesn’t.

We’ve been told that a clean house doesn’t really matter, that our husband should get dinner for himself, that no one knows how hard our life is, so they shouldn’t expect anything from us.

We feel entitled to a life of ease.

But I don’t see a life of ease for Christ’s followers described in the Bible anywhere.  God calls us up to a different place.  He says that to be great, we must be servants of all.

Being “servants of all” is such a different philosophy from a life of ease.  They aren’t even really compatible.

It can be very unpopular  to question these beliefs.

It’s scary to tell women that hard work can be the best thing to happen to them.

On the bad days, I have a post bookmarked for days like that.  It is gentle and comforting and helps me get back up the next day and try again.

I hope this last idea gives you the comfort and peace that it’s given me.

Human beings are very unbalanced and prone to go off on tangents. In every area of life- with too great emphasis on one thing, leaving out another important thing altogether. None of us will ever be perfectly balanced in our spiritual lives, our intellectual lives, our emotional lives, our family lives, in relationships with other human beings, or in our business lives. But we are challenged to try with the help of God.

-E. Schaeffer

Have you ever wondered what happens in the front row at church? With the pastor’s kids?

A few months ago, a child who will remain nameless had been to his uncle’s house on Saturday night to watch a UFC fight. That night, John Jones broke his toe. In a horrific way. Yuck. The boys came home and went to bed, no problem…

…until we were in the front row at church singing one of the last songs. This child turns to me, he looks like a ghost. He says “Mom, I don’t feel so good…” well, we all know what that means. Get the child outside. He weaves down the aisle, he can’t see, because he is about to pass out. We make it outside…he begins to get color back in his face…I ask what happened. He’s not sure…

FOUR HOURS LATER, we are sitting at home, he looks at me with sad brown eyes and says “Uh, Mom, I was thinking about John Jones’ toe at church. I’m sorry, I know I’m not suppose to think about that in church…”

Okay…

In my defense, I have never told him what he may or may not think about in church! However, we have a fresh new “No thinking about things that will make you puke or pass out while in church” rule.

A few weeks later we were sitting (in the front row), when all of a sudden my teenage girl tells me that she feels funny and that one of her arms looks WAY longer than the other one.

Oh. My. Gosh. Hang in there, girl.

Throughout the (interesting, I’m sure) sermon, she continued to see strange things, felt faint, might throw up, etc, etc, etc. Anyone with a teen girl knows this is not entirely out of the ordinary, (for my child it is, but I have hung out with enough teenage girls to know this isn’t outside the normal everyday activity). During the VERY SAME service, Toe Boy starts whispering “MOM, I DON’T FEEL VERY WELL…” I say “oh really, welcome to the club, if you aren’t going to puke, then please just be quiet”. Yeah. I’m getting tough in my old age. I look over to see that he has gotten those little wax soda bottles in sunday school and has not only had the liquid inside, but has also eaten most of the wax too…

Michael said that from his view we all looked like a Chinese Fire Drill.

A few weeks later at church (of course) I looked over in time to see another child pull his loose tooth out of his mouth. What? TO SEE HIM PULL HIS LOOSE TOOTH OUT OF HIS MOUTH.

What in the world.

Due to the distraction of having children come in and out of the service, we have forbid our children from heading out to use the bathroom on a whim.

This was not a whim. This was bloody. This was urgent. I nodded, he went to swish, wash off and bag his tooth.

Naturally he could not have done that at breakfast when we could all see it dangling out of his mouth. Nope.

Next there was the ant infestation. Only in the front row. Of course, they did migrate up onto the stage a few weeks later and were then promptly taken care of. But the first week I could not believe my eyes when I saw ant after ant crawl up my foot. The new carpet disguises them perfectly, so I could not tell that I my feet were basically on an anthill.

To most of you, that really isn’t a big deal. But, I have had enough personal encounters with ants in Mexico to ever take an ant lightly again. I also hate how they can take over an entire pantry within minutes. I did not have my pantry at church, but the idea of them crawling up my legs while I had to sit perfectly still…

As luck would have it, I was sitting next to the friend who is most familiar with my aversion to ants. She has witnessed enough of my Mexico situations to know that this was horror of horrors. We just stared at each other. Like “this can’t be happening”. And then we lost it. I had tears. I couldn’t look in Michael’s direction. I comforted myself with the thought that God was probably laughing too.

Annnd that brings us to last Sunday.

I was sitting innocently in my seat when my friend leaned over to me and mentioned that he had not seen or heard from his wife all morning and that was a little unusual.

Huh, I thought to myself. I went back to listening to Michael.

A few minutes later this friend tells me that he would like to go make sure she’s okay, but his keys happen to be on the stage behind Michael and he fears it would cause a bit of a distraction to get them.

I nod, yes, yes it would.

He wonders if he might borrow my keys/car. Oh sure. Apparently I lost my wits for a moment, due to the stress of possibly making Michael get distracted by the goings on in the front row. I decided that I should separate the car key he would need from my other 5 keys, because I must have thought he would be hopelessly confused if I were to hand him the entire key ring. Keys jangle. I see Michael’s eye ball looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

Great.

A few minutes later friend is back. “No worries, she is in the nursery”.

I didn’t really think I was up for this job.

I mean, everyone wants to be a pastor’s wife, right?

We’d all like to have our kids watched in such a way that makes the bee-watchers in that old Dr. Seuss book seem HARMLESS.

bee-watchers

Some people like being watched. Others who are watched want to go crawl into a very dark cave…on a little island far far away that no one has ever heard of.

I’m just a normal t-shirt and jeans girl. For special occasions I pull out my “good” t-shirt and jeans…and then for weddings and things I have even better jeans. (Just kidding)

That’s okay though, because I think I won the Pastor jack-pot. God gave me Michael, who lets me be me. Even though that means being married to a casual, jeans wearing, rebel-type pastor’s wife. He has let me find my little place at church and encourages me and cares for me. Like a best friend. God knew what I needed.

Long ago I had wondered if Michael would jump ship from the fishing boat (think day fishing in Baja California) of youth ministry to the crabbing hauler (on that show “Deadliest Catch”) of senior pastor.

I have not been on either of those boats, they both seem dangerous and no one should be out in the open sea, VERY DANGEROUS, what with sea creatures and waves and all.

I think I knew it for sure the day he went to start seminary. It was a little like in Job…”the thing I feared has come to pass”. But just a little. It seemed far away.

Fast forward several years, and suddenly people were asking me things like “How do you feel about becoming a pastor’s wife?” And I would say “well…it’s sort of the same as being a youth pastor’s wife…only creepier”.

I mean, he still has to eat, and have clean clothes, and be smiled at.

He will want me to keep trying to teach our children to love God, each other, and people…the same people who take their Dad away at inconvenient times. And that means they will need a good example…

We will still care about people and have them to our home. They will just be bigger…

He will still want me to be right next to him at church. To smile at him, to squeeze his hand, and to tell him what a great job he’s doing.

Then last year I got to find out what it was like for real.

I found out that God gives strength to the weary…the Bible says it and now I know it is true.

But I only have that strength as I need it.

I don’t really like that. I like to plan ahead. I like to feel like I have strength for next week…right now. But now I know this:

God gives incredible peace. He is faithful, even when we are not.

As a teen I read a funny book about a pastor’s wife. (Back when I was planning to never marry a Pastor). I love how it begins:

“Papa was an old-fashioned preacher. He preached the word of God straight from the Bible, without regard for personalities or consequences.”

I love how Michael is like this. Then again, he is not. He cares about delivering the Word of God without diluting it, but you can also sense how he cares about his listeners and where they might be in life. And I love him for it.

One of my favorite parts of this job is that I get to hang out with the pastor…talking about life, church, grass, kids, beef stew, Italians, Dutch pride, pound cake, Latin roots, whatever…

And I love that he practices what he preaches. Not in a perfect way, in a human, we-all-mess-up-way. That makes what he says on Sunday very real and practical, because he tries to live it, and walk closely with God…

So, what do I think about being a pastor’s wife? I think that if that’s what God has for us, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

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