How To Be A Preacher's Wife And Like It: Part Three

"Be it ever so humble, your parsonage can be clean. A broom, mop, pail and box of detergent, plus an ample supply of elbow grease, can transform any dingy parsonage into a sparkling set of rooms. Keeping the woodwork and windows clean, the furniture in order and the toys picked up is a matter of bodily exercise, which the Apostle Paul says is profitable.

The habitual appearance of dirty dishes in the midst of an unkept kitchen is inexcusable. Parish duties should never come ahead of parsonage obligations. Your first responsibility is to provide a clean, well-ordered home for your pastor-husband and your family." Lora Lee Parrott

Oh. My. Goodness. I'm so far off the mark it just isn't even funny. I mean, there isn't anything generationally hilarious about this particular passage. Well, except for maybe the bit about dirty dishes being inexcusable. You don't want to see my kitchen on Sunday mornings.

On Sunday mornings I really believe that Satan sends his minions to thwart all of our plans to get out the door. Dishes are thrown in the sink to be tended to later--usually I'm just glad that the children have eaten anything at all. Cups, jackets, hair gel, Christmas play scripts, and tooth brushes are here, there and everywhere. Troy throws the kids in the car. I pat myself down to make sure I'm not missing any vital piece of clothing and run back in to grab somethingorother important thing that I totally need but darn near forgot. As Troy slowly drives down the street, Garrett yells, "Hurry mom!" and I dive in before my pastor-husband gets up to 25 mph. Okay, so that last part is an exaggeration...but not by much.

I would have failed miserably as a 1950's pastor's wife. I doubt I'm having much success as a 21st century pastor's wife but I have to believe I'm better than I would have been 60 years ago.

And, keeping the toys picked up, well, that task is simply futile.