WHAT is it like to be a minister's wife?
My quick reply in answer to the question would be that it is the most beautiful role a woman can play. Of course, my friends in this age of reason would remark that my conclusion is totally biased since it is the only role of wife 1 have experienced, and with this logic I would have to agree. There might also be some of my col leagues who, if polled, would dis agree with my opinion; nevertheless, I feel completely justified in holding fast to my philosophy.
1 believe that I feel so strongly about the beauty and loveliness of being a minister's wife because it is so much a life of sharing. I have the opportunity to share with my husband in his work, but I am also able to share with men and women and young people times of joy, concern, and even grief. Our lives become entwined with those about us through sharing occasions when deep emotions are brought to the surface by events.
The experiences of love that a minister and his wife are allowed to share are so numerous that only a few can be mentioned. The joy of sharing with a young couple the preparations for a wedding; the shining eyes and looks of endearment mixed usually with much laughter have always been quite precious to me. Parents and children are together with mixed emotions and are caught up in the love ceremony, and I am often able to be with them and share this moment. Sometimes, perhaps, I project myself into the future when I will be the mother of the groom and then I will even more fully understand the fullness of this moment.
A visit to the hospital with my husband where a new mother and father point with pride to a squirming red-faced bundle in a nursery bed is another love moment. As I sit in the congregation and watch my husband present a baby in dedication to the Lord I realize that these times of love are progressive and need never cease.
The love of man and woman, of parent and child, are always a joy to behold; but the demonstration of the love of man toward God and of God to man in the ceremony of baptism is to me truly a miracle. Sometimes as a minister's wife I may have become involved in personal witnessing or in the guidance of a young person. Oftentimes, my role has been a passive one outwardly, but I have agonized in prayer for the one concerned as he goes through the process of making the most important commitment of life.
The telephone calls a minister's wife receives are filled with love and sharing; a new home or job, or car, or even an idea can be invigorating to the listener. It's the caring and the sharing that make the experience valuable.
The idea of the great need all of us have of sharing special events became so evident to me a little while ago. It was a Sabbath afternoon. My husband and one son were away from home. Our youngest son had been reading and had fallen asleep on the couch in our living room. As I was washing the luncheon dishes I gazed into our back yard, which at this time of year looks like the forest primeval. There at our bird bath was a beautiful orange Baltimore oriole. On the ground nearby was a bluejay and a yellow-breasted flicker. As I stood entranced with the colors of the birds, into the tree flew a cardinal, and flitting swiftly across the yard was a gold finch.
I could hardly believe that all of these brightly colored creatures could possible be there at once in our back yard. I remember muttering out loud several times, "I just can't believe it." Then, not being able to contain myself, I hurried to the couch, woke our son and quickly told him of the experience. He mumbled some thing like, "That's nice, Mom," rolled over and went back to sleep. As I returned to the window I discovered that half of the birds were gone and within a minute the others flew away. The moment was over.
Such an inconsequential happening one might say, but it was unusual and so beautiful to see. It had happened to me and I was alone with no one to share it. Because of an experience like this, I readily understand when some one calls and says, "I hate to interrupt you now, but this incident just happened and I just had to share it with you." As a minister's wife this happens often, and I like it.
There is a sharing of grief in a minister's family that binds the hearts together. As I stand with my husband at the bedside of a dying member, I think of how often we are with our members at crucial moments of their lives.
As the telephone rings in the middle of the night and my husband is asked to carry the sad news of the death of a loved one to a family, my heart aches and the lump in my throat is the same as the one I felt when a similar call came concerning the death of one of my own loved ones. It is not a feeling of sympathy but rather one of empathy that overwhelms me.
The people we serve are responsible for making this such a special role, but even material things become meaningful. There are several church buildings that "belong" especially to us, as they were built during my husband's ministry within that city.
Lest I sound like Pollyanna, I must be truthful and say that surely there have been moments of frustration, fatigue, and even perhaps futility, but a little sand in one eye makes us appreciate the other eye. Our scales are heavily overbalanced with good days.
The point that seems so important to me is that the size of the congregation or the location of ministry has nothing to do with the blessings we receive. We can find them wherever we are.
As I stood in the narthex of our church today and greeted many members that I know and have grown to love, my heart was filled with gratitude to God for the privilege of being a minister's wife. It is all that I ever hoped it would be.