Things You Should Know About Your Pastor's Wife

In no particular order of importance, here's a few universal things you should know about your pastor's wife:

1. She has given her life to God and to service. She loves her Savior.
2. If God has called her husband to ministry, He has also called her. Different roles but she is in ministry because she loves God and wants to serve Him, not because of some martyrdom duty to her husband.
3. When you cut her, she bleeds. She is not invincible.
4. When you are cruel to her husband, she immediately moves to protective mode. As hard as she tries not to take it personally, many times that's an impossibility.
5. She will fail you, disappoint you, or not meet your expectation(s). Maybe all three. It's not that she wants to or intends to, but like you, she is human. No perfect people allowed.
6. She needs and wants friends. Her avenue to make friends is not the same as yours and in some ways she must guard what God has entrusted to her. But she needs some girls.
7. She's been given huge responsibility and is accountable for much.
8. She is tired. Really tired.
9. The spiritual warfare directed at her is unbelievable. It's on a level all its own. She needs encouragement and love....but mostly, prayer.
10. She needs a day off once in a while.

Memorial Day & Mom's Birthday

Originally set aside as a day to honor the fallen soldiers, Memorial Day has become a day where all dead are honored and to an even greater degree, just a day off work or a weekend to get away. What a shame. That's not to say we shouldn't have proper respect for all who have died because all life is a gift from God just not on this day we call Memorial Day.

So to those soldiers who didn't just lay down their lives but died fighting valiantly to protect our freedoms and liberties, I am eternally grateful. I adore our military but today I am focused on those who gave the last full measure for those of their generation and the generations to come. Our country owes you a debt that cannot be repaid you.

In an entirely different vein, today is my momma's birthday. At her request we combined the celebration with Mother's Day but I can't let the date pass without acknowledging her.

This picture was taken at the National Cemetery in Little Bighorn Battlefield.

Imagine This

My facebook thought for the day was this: Victory eludes me. It's exhausting.

Imagine being stuck in your own head over something for close to 18 years. No matter what you do it doesn't change. No matter how you plead with God, nothing happens. Everyone around you gets victory, yet there you are with no end in sight.

You're being obedient, following what God wants you to do and sacrificing. And victory remains a mystery.

It's exhausting, defeating, and utterly frustrating. Despair comes to my mind.

A Morning at Home

I'm spending this morning at home. I wish it could be all day but if I don't work this afternoon, I don't get paid. Minor details, right? Plus, I committed to work extra this week to cover because of a training class so it would be rude not to show up.

Anyway, I so love being at home. There's a zillion things I can do (and should be doing instead of this), I never get bored, and I'm just at peace. That's what I looked at in my bible study this morning--being at peace--so it's fresh on my mind.

I definitely need the respite sometimes from the neediness in the world around me. I often wish I could barricade myself inside and stay for a llloooonnnnggg time. But what good is that for the kingdom?

In our Sunday school lesson this week Steve talked about Christians being salt and light in the world. How can I do that if I hole up in my house and do only the things that make me happy and contented? I can't.

So I'm called to go out, even as soon as this afternoon. But for now, I'll bask in my morning of rest and solitude. My soul needs it so badly.

A Difficult Season

Steve and I are going through one of the most difficult seasons of our entire lives...and definitely the most difficult ministry season.

I've been mystified the past month at how people who claim Christ as Savior can consistently be cruel, spiteful, and knowingly, willingly spread lies. Is there no conviction? Is there not even a shred of human decency?

Tonight as I spoke to a friend she said, "you can be comforted in knowing that you & Steve are obviously doing something right. If you weren't, satan wouldn't be trying so hard to bring you down."

It was so encouraging. It's really true but easy to forget when in the midst of a barrage of such tactics. As I basked in this good advice, she went on to say "wow, that was REALLY good advice!" I casually commented, "you are so proud of yourself, aren't you?" She was. She truly was.

She should be. I'm so grateful she called. We'll certainly persevere and keep doing what God wants us to do. We're surrounded by people who love us, pray for us, and tell us to keep going. Not only that, but they go along with us.

It's just so hard. Ministry isn't for the weak-hearted, that's for sure.

I'm on Facebook!

For the past year or so I've been getting invitation after invitation to join Facebook but I just never took the time. Quite frankly, having a blog is sometimes consuming enough.

But, with this last request I decided to just go ahead and try it out. Hopefully the set up is the most daunting and time consuming otherwise it just won't last.

Anyway, there it is if you're interested...

A New Look

I have been wanting a new look to my blog for quite a while and today's the day. I was reading my cousin's blog and she had changed hers using a free website to do it. I clicked through and then sat here looking at page after page. After 30 minutes of staring at different options and liking a ton of them, I just decided to pick one and get on with it.

So I did. And I love it!

Is Dill Weed Funny?

Are there words that just seem funny to your ears? Apparently I speak quite a few words and phrases that sound funny to others. For example, I've been told "ding dong" is a hilarious thing to call someone. I do it a lot. It's better than other things I could say.

It's also been brought to my attention that "jockey box" is a very strange Montana thing. For those not familiar with jockey box lingo, it's the small box in the car on the passenger side. Most people call it a glove compartment. We had this conversation with some friends a few weeks ago because while she is from here originally, he is not. You know what she calls it. He asked what I called "that box in the front of the car." When I told him he erupted in laughter, telling us there has never been, nor will there ever be a jockey in that box. I think I may plant a pair of men's underwear in the jockey box of his truck to prove him wrong. It'll be worth the $6.

We were talking about this the other day and I shared something I'd never told to anyone outside my home. When I go to the spice cabinet to get what I need for any particular recipe, I always end up moving them around to find what I'm looking for. Every time I see the spice jar marked "dill weed" I fall into a fit of laughter. It's more than I can bear.

I find something incredibly hysterical about "dill weed". I don't know why. Does anyone else think that's funny?

What others have you got?

Funeral Funnies

Remember a couple of days when I mentioned I'd post a couple more funny things from the process of making funeral arrangements for my dad? Well, here goes. Thanks for waiting:)

The entire family squeezed into the office of a gentleman at the funeral home. I'm sure as we exited it appeared like a bunch of clowns coming out of a VW bug. We just kept coming out and coming out. Where'd we all fit? I don't know, but we did. Anyway, he was very gracious, allowing all 12 of us in there.

I'd spent some time looking through one of my dad's Bibles and found a couple of verses that seemed to mean a lot to him. After showing them to my mom and asking for her input, we decided to have Philippians 4:13, 19 in the program (I think that's what it's called). Anyway, as I read them aloud, here's how it went...FD is the funeral director:

J: "We have a scripture we've chosen for the inside."

FD: "Go ahead."

I proceeded to read the verses. I looked up to find FD staring at me. All I could do is look back.

FD: "What book are you reading from?"

I stared at him in disbelief. While it was only a few seconds, my mind swarmed with thoughts like "what's up with this guy? Hasn't he ever done a funeral before? Hasn't anyone ever requested a verse before? Is he for real? Is he insane?"

Rather than ask any of those questions, I very slowly said a half answer / question:

J: The bible.?!?.

Everyone erupted in laughter, except me of course. I totally didn't get it. All of a sudden my mother reached over, placed her hands across the Bible to flatten it and said "Philippians." Oh, that's what he wanted. He should have been a little more clear in his question. He seemed very grateful mom was there to ease his pain.

As if that weren't enough, I found myself with my foot in my mouth again, just a few short minutes later. Before we left the house that morning, my mom took me to the side, placed a picture in my hand and said she wanted that on the front of the program.

We sat in that office looking through books with pages of options for the front of the program. I had already told the FD that we had a picture we wanted to use and he did not mention one time that blank ones were available. So as we flipped pages, not a single one was blank. Nor did any of them have just a small border or something that would allow for the picture mom had chosen to be on the front. And the picture would have made dad proud--it was him with the grandbabies. I sat there knowing I had that picture my mom had her heart set on and not seeing any way to make it happen. I just couldn't accept that.

Finally, it caught my eye. There on the 5th or 6th page was a program front with a picture centered in the middle. I thought, "hey, maybe we can use that one and just replace the picture." It was an artist's rendition of Jesus. Don't even get me started on pictures of Jesus. Let's just say I'm not a fan and leave it at that. I sheepishly looked up, knowing I was requesting something that probably wasn't allowed but absolutely knowing I had to grasp any straw. I pointed at the picture and completely serious I asked:

J: "Can we use this one and replace Jesus with my dad?"

Everyone erupted in laughter again. I stammered trying to make them understand what I meant. Of course I didn't mean Jesus was replaceable, it was just that, well, you know...Finally my older brother said:

E: "Man, Julie, dad was good, but come on!"

They all laughed, again at my expense, and the FD said, "oh, we have blank ones if you want to use your own picture." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Why in the world didn't he say that when I told him mom had chosen a personal picture? It was good for a laugh anyway. And we needed as many as we could get. As an aside, here's the front of the program (I cut out the name for obvious reasons).

I'm sure you'll be so excited to know I made it through this entire post tear-free. Yep, as my dad promised, the good memories are beginning to overshadow the sorrow and grief.

A Call To Run

I can't believe I had never heard of this YouTube video until today. There was more than one version but I liked this one best.

My friend Lindsay recommended I watch it and I am shaken to the core by the message because it's 100% true. It fits in so well with my Sunday musings. I had goosebumps as I watched. It's a portion of a sermon given in Times Square Church in Manhattan the Sunday after the 9/11 attacks. It's 5 minutes long. Please take the time to watch it.

Thank you Lindsay!

"Run" by Carter Conlon.

Some Deep Questions On a Sunday

So, here's an interesting question to ponder. It came up today while we were processing church deposits.

I casually asked my fellow counting girls, "how many people do you think would continue to give to churches and charities if there were no tax breaks for it?" We briefly talked about how it soon be apparent who gives for the right reasons.

Then Lindsay wondered aloud how many people would attend church if it were illegal.

I've been thinking about those questions since this afternoon. It's easy to immediately exclaim, "oh, I would. I know it. No doubt." I'm 100% confident in the first scenario. I don't give because of a tax break. But the second one is bothering me a bit. While I sincerely hope I would be bold and not intimated by such tactics, I really wonder, "what if I had to go to jail in order to go to church? What if I'd get home, cars, or family taken away as a result?"

Prior to all that, while we drove home from church, Steve and I talked about true heroes of the faith. And while many parts of the world suffer as much as the early church did, we have to admit that most of us as Christians are fairly soft. If we were to be flogged or whipped for the cause of Christ, would we still be followers? What is the outer limit of our devotion? After listening to complaints about anything and everything outside of personal preferences, I think most people would be "closet Christians" if faced with anything truly and physically painful. It's too hot or too cold, the seating uncomfortable, the music not what we like, the sermon is too long, too short, and the list is endless.

Any thoughts? I would so love to hear them, even if you'd rather not comment here. You can email me.

Random Hilarity

I am so easily amused that this will probably not be nearly as funny to most of you as it is to me. The other day we were in staff meeting and someone noticed our youth pastor seemed to be tired. Indeed he was. He had just returned from a collegiate ministry conference which had a fairly brutal schedule. He said:

"Man, I am so tired. Breakfast started at 7:30 and we ended at 9 or 9:30 pm every night."

Everyone kind of nodded in agreement that the schedule was long. But then my hilarious husband (at least I think he is) remarked:

"That is a really long breakfast!"

We erupted in laughter. I couldn't stop. An hour later I was still chuckling about it. Who am I kidding? I'm still laughing at it all over again as I type.

It reminded me of something that happened the day we were choosing a burial plot for my dad. My grandpa died in 1961 (my dad was 17) and my grandma in 1998. When grandpa was buried, it was in a single burial plot. For whatever reason grandma didn't buy a double but apparently began to wish she had. Over the years she commented frequently about how she should get a double plot and have his remains moved. She never got around to it. Strange that in 37 years a person can't get around to something but I guess time flies.

When grandma passed away, my dad went ahead and purchased a double plot and had his dad moved. As we stood in that same office choosing a plot for our dad, my mom was telling the story and said that when the remains were exhumed, all that was left was a few bones and a piece of a suit.

Not knowing what to say and seriously consumed with our own grief, nobody said anything for a minute. We stood there looking at each other. Steve was leaning in the doorway of a small room to the left of us. This next line has become a family classic. He casually said:

"Wow! That must have been some suit!"

We all laughed hysterically. We couldn't contain ourselves and oh, did we ever need a release from the grief!

But, you really have to know Steve or be around him for a while to understand just how funny he is and catch on to the humor. So, for those of you who don't really know him, you might not even find this post funny. You might even think that line was inappropriate or out of line. I promise you it was not, at least not in our family. I think it's hysterical. I think he's hysterical. God knew I'd need a husband with an amazing sense of humor. There would be no other way we'd last.

I'll post a couple more funny lines from the process of funeral preparations later:) I'm sure you're on pins and needles.

Content in My Home

This past weekend Steve and I went to the Spring Parade of Homes. Supposedly the homes featured in the spring are the affordable ones. The ones in the fall are outrageously expensive. Anyway, I had not gone for the past several years because I always came home extremely discontent, always wanting what I didn't have and couldn't afford. This was particularly true of the fall version where the prices start at $500k. I finally decided that paying $8-$10 to be dissatisfied was ridiculous.

This time, though, I felt perfectly content coming home. We need to paint this year so I was looking for the latest and greatest painting ideas. I came away with lots of possibilities. As well as a few decorating ideas.

One of the homes we liked best was actually quite small by modern standards. It reminded us a bit of our last home but far more energy efficient:) It was completely adorable and if I remember correctly, there wasn't more than 1000 square feet on the main floor. The builders are creating this particular neighborhood to be just that - a neighborhood rather than a subdivision. We talked to one of them for a while and we walked away honestly considering a move. But in the end, we have much more house for our dollar with ample parking for our frequent get-togethers and of course very important to Steve is his 3-car garage. That house only had 2--and no driveway. We've long believed God had this house in this neighborhood just for us. It was just being finished and was at a price that should not have been in the subdivision. Other houses sold that year and the next for as much as $50,000 more.

All this to say that God and I have really been working on contentment and this weekend was evidence that great strides are being made. That in and of itself is a miracle!

Her Name is Rachel

A couple weeks ago I met a young woman at the event I spoke at. I hadn't planned on telling the women I was diagnosed with MD at the age of 15. The truth is it wasn't something I planned in my life nor was it something I really enjoyed. But there it was. One of those mysterious things that happens in life.

So why did I say it if I hadn't planned to? Simply because God pushed the words out of my mouth. He had a purpose for it too. Her name is Rachel.

Afterwards a beautiful 21-year-old approached me to tell me she had recently been diagnosed with a form of Muscular Dystrophy too. It's very different than mine but there are so many variations that the probability of us having the same one are minuscule.

Here's what she said: "I've never met anyone else with MD. I felt like a freak and people thought I was crazy. I knew what was happening was real but it was so hard to diagnose nobody believed me." I so totally understood what she was saying. I've been there. Doctor after doctor. Their skeptical eyes telling you they don't really believe you. You look fine. Your tests are fine. But you feel horrible. You know something is terribly wrong but nobody gets it, nobody can diagnose it. You're different than everyone else. All of a sudden you have huge physical limits yet at the same time all the weird things that have happened to you in your lifetime make a bit of sense. Freak barely begins to describe how you feel.

Tears filled my eyes as I realized yet another reason God allowed that in my life.

It was for Rachel. She needed me in that moment. I got the privilege of speaking to her for about 20 minutes. Then we hugged and parted ways. I may never see her again but I sure hope I do. Even if I don't, I'll remember her beautiful face forever.