Reconsidering, As Always

It's been a year since we moved to our current congregation. A good year. This church loves our family.

I am still haunted by the crazy at our last church. I have the occasional nightmare. Sunday mornings are usually stressful for me and I think it's a holdover from the anxiety I felt there.

It seems a few new readers have joined us here lately (welcome!) and I am so gratified. It is simultaneously heartbreaking and reassuring that so many people relate to my experience.

Sometimes I think it might be time to stop adding to adding to this blog. Maybe it would be good for me to move on. Other days I am so thankful for the support and encouragement I've been given here that I want to keep it going. And, of course, being the pastor's family has its peculiarities even in a healthy congregation.

Parsonage

I think I've mentioned before that we are living in a parsonage now. Mostly I love it. It's a nice house, well-cared for, and I'm generally happy not to be responsible for fixing things.

However. There's always a however. The nuances of "my" home belonging to the church (which means it belongs to everyone and no one in particular) and being across the parking lot from the church building and drawing from the same tightly-squeezed budget that everyone is trying to stretch so salaries can be paid... I don't have to repair the roof but there are other things to think about.

There are things I would be trying to do to this house if I owned it but that's not for us to decide. The church budget doesn't have any wiggle room right now so any money spent on our house -- especially for major improvements -- seems like it is taking away from something 'more important'. Sometimes it's like living on a commune, but we're the only ones whose personal living space must balance with the greater good.

Any of you live(d) in a parsonage? How do you handle the gray area around what is good for your family and what is good for the church?

DOXOLOGY

One of the things God has taught me and my husband during these creepy years is how important it is for the pastor to be a pastor - spiritual caregiver - rather than a business manager. It's hard to do. There is a lot of business to be done in a church and it's a trick to stay focused on pastoral care there is a budget crisis or a building project.

The DOXOLOGY program has been very helpful on that front. It's helped my husband think more clearly about his role as a pastor, it's helped me understand what he's doing and why (anyone else ever feel just a tiny bit resentful of church?), and it's given us some time to think about our own spiritual needs.

We'll be at the DOXOLOGY reunion in early August. Anyone else?

When Church Makes You Crazy: 5 Strategies

We spent a couple of years at a church that literally made me crazy. The church leaders abused my husband and I felt scared every time I went in the building. The stress of that situation caused an episode of clinical depression that persisted until we moved away.

While we were there, I found a few strategies to help me cope with the situation. Mostly I wanted to never go to or think about that church, but I felt that I had a few obligations as the pastor's wife:

1. Attend worship most weeks.
2. Bring my children to Sunday school. (This one had more to do with stability for my children than obligations to the church.)
3. Speak kindly always. Speak of church politics as little as possible.

Given those parameters, I found about five things I could do that helped. I'll tell you about one of them today and describe the others during the rest of the week.

Coping Strategy #1: Worship Elsewhere. I went to our church on Sunday mornings because I believe it can be confusing and discouraging for the congregation if the pastor's wife never attends. I barely considered it "worship" in the true sense. I didn't hear the senior pastor's sermons as messages from God but as reminders of his duplicity. Every hymn and prayer was clouded by my stress and anxiety.

I visited other churches as I was able, usually on a weeknight. It was such a relief to sit in the pew and feel like I had some privacy with God. Even in a happy church I feel self-conscious about being the woman everyone can identify.

Eventually I built a relationship with a nearby church (I'll call it "Bridge Church") where I attended a weekday Bible study and made a few friends. During the months after my husband had left our last church and before he took the call to our current church, we attended Bridge Church. In retrospect, I would say that was an important part of my re-learning how to feel safe at church. I think most of our friends at Bridge Church knew something had gone terribly wrong for us. I never felt judged, no one ever pried into details. We were welcomed, hugged, made to feel loved and valued.

The pastor at Bridge Church advised me to "do nothing." He told me we needed time to heal and to receive love and care with no obligations. He was right about that and it was a precious gift.

Church Secretary

It's starting to sound like a little theme - budgets, secretaries.... what's next on the list?

I had an odd conversation with the church secretary this week. Since we live in a parsonage next door to church, our mailbox is next to the church mailbox. I go to church at midday to pick my kids up from preschool and so I usually take the mail to the secretary. She is pleasant but not chatty, so it's nice to have a reason to say hello every day.

Last week I brought her the mail and stood over the recycling bin sorting our personal mail. I tossed in a few women's clothing catalogs that don't interest me.

I went down the hall to get my kids and when I walked past her office again she said, "Haven't you heard the rule? When you get fun catalogs you bring them over here so we can look through them!" She was flipping through the catalogs I'd recycled. "I always liked picking up mail for [the previous pastor's wife] because she got the best catalogs!"

I found this awkward. I don't care if she likes looking at catalogs, but it wasn't a collegial "Ooh! don't you love looking at this stuff even when you're not going to buy it?" The implication seemed to be that we have money to buy more expensive clothes than she can afford. It could be true; I'd have no idea. But it was weird.

I think I'll sort my mail at home from now on.

Church Budgets

There were a couple of meetings at church last night about budget problems. I know, crazy! A church with financial challenges! I don't know the ins and outs of it, but judging by the number of church members who are out of work or who have moved away in the last several months because they found work elsewhere, I suspect the difference between income and expenses is significant.

My husband tries to keep his hands off the money situation but it's hard to stay uninvolved when hard choices will need to be made. We were both braced for bad news last night.

But then he came home early from the meeting. And he was smiling. It was a very strange experience.

The church council has a plan and is still trusting God to make up the shortfall. To me, the most important part of their plan was: Pastor, don't worry about this. We want you to teach us and care for our spiritual needs. We are responsible for figuring out the budget.

I love these people.

Travel with Kids

I have hardly gone anywhere (apart from moving) for the last year because of surgery and chemotherapy. I suppose my travel before that was kind of limited because depression sapped my energy. Anyway, it's been a while since I took the kids to visit either set of grandparents.

This weekend, we went. It was just me and all three kiddos on a 6-hour drive. I used to think that was manageable. I think I used to be crazy.

They are pretty good travelers but they are young and sitting for several hours is boring. We stopped for running around, we rotated their seats around the van, we had books and toys for entertainment. But still there is so much coaching and negotiating and I-can't-pick-that-up-I'm-driving!

I wonder if it's me. I did not feel creative about playing I Spy in the car or planning helpful stops en route. I just wanted them to leave me alone so I could drive in peace. How do other people travel with kids? Lots of pastors' families drive long distances to visit relatives. There must be a reasonable way to do it.

The Parsonage

We live in a parsonage. My husband has been a pastor for ten years and this is our first time in a church-owned house. I think I love it.

When we left the seminary I was dead-set against going to a church with a parsonage. I pictured a sad, neglected house and fights with the property board when the toilet broke.

What I live in right now is a lovely, well-cared for home that has plenty of space for our family. Someone else cuts the grass and shovels the snow. Posh!

The main drawback of being in a parsonage is that the fishbowl effect is magnified. Everyone at church knows where we live. Everyone in our neighborhood knows we are the pastor's family because this house has belonged to the church for decades. My husband jokes about "the compound" - as in, "Today I never left the compound. Home, church, home, church." The church is on one edge of the parking lot and our house is on the other.

I've heard that living in a parsonage can blur the line between home and work but for us, it has made the boundary between more clear. When my husband needs to work he can always get to church, so he rarely works at home.

Ten years ago this would have been an unhealthy situation for us. I would have been too sensitive to being so easily known. I would have felt self-conscious most of the time. Now, however, I am comforted by the congregation's care for us and usually like the easy movement between home and church.

That we are here now reassures me that God knows our needs and He provides for us with wisdom we could not understand. May He lead me to trust Him more.

Where I'm Reading This Week

It seems Friday-appropriate to share some blog posts I've especially appreciated this week.

At CLUTCHtalk, a blog designed especially for pw's, there is a series in progress on survival tips for the new pw. Today's tip is out of my league (how to be prepared for surprise overnight guests), but tips #10: Be Real and tip #9: Refuse to Gossip are right up my alley.

A facebook friend pointed me to this post at Steadfast Lutherans. It has an excellent list of ways a church can support and encourage the pastor's wife. The writer makes a good point about the church's responsibility to help the pastor balance his vocations of husband, father, and pastor.

I recently found the Pondering Pastor's Wife blog written by a woman who has experience in a very stressful church. She wrote here about how hard it is to unlearn the habits and expectations she developed there. I appreciate knowing that someone else has moved from an abusive congregation to a loving congregation but still expects disaster. It will be good when we learn to expect grace and mercy.

Happy reading!

What's My Responsibility?

A Bible study for moms is meeting at my church this morning and I am not there. It's an established group that meets on a regular schedule and, mostly because I've been sick, I have been only once.

It's a fine group. The study is fine. It's not a group I'd be likely to spend much time with were I not the pastor's wife. And there's the rub: what is my responsibility to the women of our congregation as the pastor's wife?

I am the most widely-known woman in the congregation. Some people assume that, because I am married to the pastor, I am "better" at being a Christian than most. This morning when I dropped my kids off for preschool one of the other moms was teasing me about not going to Bible study this morning. "She's the pastor's wife and she's not going to Bible study?" I replied, in the same light tone, that there is no correlation between being the pastor's wife and being a "good" Christian. She thought that was pretty funny.

It happens that the time during which this group meets is the only time I have to be alone. All my children are at school for only 5 hours each week. I treasure those hours! I'd rather not subtract two of them for a group Bible study.

This situation represents a question I am constantly asking myself. What is my responsibility to the congregation? I appreciate that I have a unique position from which to encourage the women of the church. I want God to use me for that purpose. I also want to take good care of myself; to make choices that sustain me.

What would you do?

Backstory

Now that we are in a church where my husband is the only pastor, I am discovering a new burr in my pastor's wife vest: every sermon and every Bible class comes with baggage. I often know what happened this week that inspired the particular angle he takes on the scripture reading. Sometimes he's funny or off-beat and other people think he is so witty and I think I've heard this story/joke a dozen times before.

It's like being at a dinner party where your spouse is amusing and surprising everyone else and it's old hat to you. A dinner party every Sunday morning. He is funny and smart and witty. I'm glad other people appreciate his creativity. But some days I am very aware of the drawbacks to being married to the preacher.

Do any of you pw's have the same feeling?

Authentic and Awkward

Our church has been praying for me every week during my chemotherapy. I am thankful for their prayers on my behalf, though it has been uncomfortable to see my name on the prayer list every week for as long as we've been here. I feel like I get so much attention just because I'm married to the pastor that I don't need any more.

On Sunday the prayer was altered to thanksgiving that the treatments are done. Lots of people spoke to me afterward to express their happiness for me. I was asked several times, usually with a mood of eager optimism, how I am feeling.

You'd think that would be a simple question. A year or two ago I'd have told all those kind people that I'm feeling much better, thank you. They all want so much for me to be well, for my life to be happy. I'd hate to disappoint them.

I'm trying to teach myself to be considerately honest and sometimes that's uncomfortable. When people asked how I'm feeling I told them I'm relieved to be done, but I don't feel very well.

Every time I felt a little like I was hurting their feelings. We'd have a very brief awkward moment in which we all took in the disappointment that happiness and ease has not yet arrived and then we'd part.

Being honest is awkward. We are all in a hurry to be done with pain and living alongside other people's sadness is hard. It is also much more helpful to all of us than polite lies. Now those people know me a little bit.

Blogs by Pastor's Wives

Every week a few people visit this blog for the first time because they saw it listed on the blog withpurpose. Blogger Amy has compiled quite a list of blogs written by pw's. It's a good place to start if you'd like to connect with other women whose lives are intimately connected with church communities.

Visine in My Purse

This is a guest post by a fellow pastor's wife who has dealt with depression. Her experience differs from mine in how her emotions were affected. Depression made me feel too much; the writer of this post seems to feel too little.

I carry Visine in my purse and I am not a sufferer of dry itchy allergy eyes.

I have been told that I was in the stage of my depression/anxiety journey called blunting.

blunting: a decrease in the intensity of emotional expression from the level one would normally expect as a reaction to a specific situation.

I toss between settling into being blunt or tweaking and self talking myself into a more "normal" state of being. This is the tricky thing about being me.

Do I

A. Wean down and possibly panic....or

B. Add a few more mg and resemble a zombie...

The answer for now is neither Neither A nor B. It is VISINE!

I have somewhat enjoyed my stay in the land of blunting. For a time I was very satisfied not feeling happy or sad. It was refreshing to not deal with emotions at extremes. While trying to tweak medications and leave the land of blunting proves difficult I am now realizing I have forgotten how to react to situations happy and sad. It takes a lot of energy.

So, you ask..Where does the Visine fit in to all of this? I was having coffee with a friend and telling her about my recent endeavor to leave the land of blunting. I would like to again be able feel the strong emotion of happiness and not just the thoughts of being happy. This for me involves a very long process of tweaking meds. The part that is hardest for me is THE FUNERALS. See, I am also a PW (Pastor’s wife) and I know for a fact the very first time I realized I had no emotion was at a funeral of someone I really knew, really enjoyed, and was really going to miss. Everyone around me had tears flowing from their eyes and audible sobs as I sat there. I began to feel very self-conscious of what I must look like to the mourning families at all the funerals I attend. I must look like a stone cold hard woman. YUCK that is not really me.

My very dear friend looked at me and said: “Just put some Visine in your purse! Before you walk into church squirt a little in each eye, let the make-up run appropriately and grab a tissue.”

So, instead of trying to rush through the process of medication changes I am now at a much slower steady pace thanks to the Visine in my purse!

Gaaaahhhh!

It has a been a rough week. I had a chemo treatment a week ago and am starting to feel like I'm just crummy all the time. I have these stupid side-effects with me every day, like so many yippy dogs nipping my ankles and barking that it's-not-even-a-bark little noise. They won't do any permanent damage but they can irritate the bejeebers out of me.

Meanwhile, Husband is having a rough go. I think he hoped (as did I!) that moving away from our old congregation would provide nearly instant relief from the pain we felt there. It didn't. It's starting to look like we might need to organize our entire lives around getting well for a few months. I'm physically ill, he's emotionally/spiritually ill. It's very, very, very hard to acknowledge that we are profoundly limited right now.

I happened upon a little book about cancer and skimmed it for interesting bits. The author described someone's experience with cancer and noted that he thinks "toxic stress" in the patient's life contributed to the development of cancer.

I'm pretty sure the author is not a physician, and I think he's just musing there, but it planted the idea in my mind that perhaps I would not have developed cancer if I'd not been under severe stress. That is, "Did sr. pastor give me cancer?"

Gaaaaahhhhhh!

Of course I have no idea and it's kind of a stupid thing to ponder, but every few weeks I discover new layers of anger over his incredibly, stunningly self-centered behavior. I had so few conversations with him and all of them were about him. What is that? How does that happen? Someone told me that the definition of narcissism is thinking that everything you say or do is right because you are the one saying or doing it. I cannot fathom seeing the world that way.

Therapy

I have followed with interest the blog of a pastor coping with depression and coming to terms with needing a therapist. When I needed the care of a therapist, one appeared before me as if by magic. Her counseling style and personality seemed perfectly suited to my needs. It rarely occurred to me that I'd been spared the arduous process of choosing a therapist.

Then we moved. While my depression has lifted and a million things about my life seem better I am not confident enough to be apart from the care and attention of a professional counselor. The upheaval of moving, coaching kids through a move, cancer, a new congregation, approaching winter.... it seems ripe for a repeat appearance of my Great Foe, depression.

Finding a therapist is hard. On my list of considerations:

Location

Insurance coverage/cost

Therapeutic style

Christian perspective

Gender (I am more readily at ease with a woman)

It doesn't work to ask around about a good therapist the way I do about dentists and hair salons. Recommendations for mental health care require a little discretion. My husband identified a couple of good people to ask, as did I. Some of our inquiries were fruitless - generated no names or suggestions that did not suit us for various reasons. He finally found someone who referred us to a useful list.

Then I sorted through the list and eliminated most of the names off the bat. Some have specific areas of expertise - family conflict, teens, etc. Others had religious affiliations that are inappropriate for me: buddhism, new age, or branches of Christianity with which I am not comfortable. One Christian counseling office near us posts its intake form online. I browsed it and noticed this item: "Does the client consider him/herself to be born again?" I understand that question to refer to an understanding of the Christian faith with which I do not identify. I don't want to battle off theological questions in pursuit of good mental health.

During my husband's vicarage year - an internship during seminary - we visited a therapist together because we felt overwhelmed by loneliness and stress. Being far from family and friends, in an unfamiliar and challenging situation, was sometimes confusing for us. The counselor we saw was not helpful. She couldn't figure out what our problem was, so she spent half and hour talking to my husband about nurturing his inner child when he preaches. It was very weird.

I landed upon a Christian counseling practice with an office near my home. My schedule is so full of doctor visits and child-tending responsibilities that travel time could seriously limit my ability to see a therapist as often as I could need. I judged from the web site that the practice is overtly Christian but respectful of the fact that clients are looking for mental health care, not theology lessons.

I described my first appointment as "auditioning a new therapist." It was important to me to remind myself that establishing a therapeutic relationship is my decision. I felt perfectly at ease with this therapist and appreciated the questions she asked at my first appointment. I discovered that she is also married to a pastor and recognizes everything I describe about my anxieties related to that role. Her affiliation is with a different denomination, but every reference to Christian faith falls inside of what I think of as Apostles' Creed Christianity: things we all agree on. She has not asked me if I am born again.

In the course of writing this blog, I've made friends with other pastors' wives who realize they would benefit from professional counseling. For some of them, identifying a therapist who meets their criteria is an arduous process. I pray for them, that God will provide what they need and give them eyes to recognize it when they see it.

Distressing Dreams

Last week I had a steady stream of weird, vivid dreams. The first two had to do with my children being in danger and I could not protect them (in the first of the two, I knew we were all going to be brainwashed).

Then I dreamt something involving me in Alaska on a trip with wolves, sleds, and overnight camping in the middle of winter. I like camping, but not in the winter. I'm not interested in a personal relationship with a wolf.

The most recent was a long episode of some people trying to burn down my house. They were kind of mellow about it - turning on my oven, lighting small fires around the house, trying to start a bonfire on the roof. I followed them around putting out the fires and trying to talk them out of arson. It occurred to me to call 911, but I thought the fire dept. would be annoyed that I called for help before there was a really big fire.

I've decided that those dreams involving my children are residual anxiety about the congregation we just left. Everything about our current situation seems good and safe for my kids.

The other two, in which I seem to be taking on challenges above my pay level and delay asking for help... well, that's me in a nutshell. I have become pretty adept at asking for help these days because I must. It's the same reason I wound up talking to a therapist and a pastor in the last couple of years. The pain in my life was too much to bear and I had to get help somewhere.

I have a long habit of imagining that people will think poorly of me if I ask for help. I imagine other people thinking that I should be able to handle things on my own. I can't think of a time when that has actually happened, but real life and my expectations are taking a long time to meet.

I've also noticed that I picture myself requesting/accepting help from now until I finish chemotherapy. Then, I tell myself, I will be well and whole and energetic and independent and help other people. I hope that most of the above will be true, but I also hope that I can sustain my willingness to ask for help when I can use it.

Goodbye Depression!

I am DEEEEElighted to report that my depression seems to have wandered away. The last time I checked - last spring - it was still holding tight. Then life went completely crazy and I stopped checking every day to see if I was better. Now things are settling into a routine in our new home and I notice that the parts of me I've been missing for so long are back.

For example:

I enjoy being with my kids. I cannot remember when I last thought it was fun to be the mom at my house. I have been simply enduring the work of parenting for a couple of years. I could see that they were happy and imagined that could be fun for me, but it wasn't. Now I enjoy their silliness, their creativity, their incomparably adorable little faces. Even their tantrums and sassy attitudes are ok with me. I'm the mom, they're supposed to act that way, and I can handle it.

When I am trapped in bed by the exhaustion that comes with chemotherapy, I think about the things I want to do when I feel better. Some are short-term: on good days, I like to write, to read, to cook, to play with my kids. Others are long-term: when this chemo is over, I want to plan a vacation. I want to paint my bedroom. I want to have new friends over for dinner. We live in a parsonage and I've enjoyed imagining an open house for the congregation this spring. A year ago, such a thought would have overwhelmed me.

My husband is not as perky as I. He has been adapting to or trying to prevent incomprehensible, unpredictable unkindness for two years and it will probably take a while to process and cope with that. I understand that, and I miss him, and I am waiting for him to come back to me. I am sad about that. A year ago, I was desperate to fix it. Now I am comfortable with knowing I cannot fix it. I can be next to him, love him, share myself with him, pray for him. These are my roles in his life. God will heal him. It is good for me to feel safe and content even when my husband does not.

If you've ever been depressed, or desperate to heal the pain of someone you love, you'll recognize how revolutionary that is.

I cannot say how thankful I am to be well. It surprises me every day. When I notice that I am happy, in the moment, free of pervasive fear or anxiety, I marvel at what God has done. In the midst of depression, I really thought this would never happen.

Honesty Is Working

Last week I wrote about a note I put in the church bulletin explaining my cancer treatment and related fluctuating energy level. It was a little awkward to explain so much about my life to new acquaintances, but I guessed the benefits would outweigh the awkwardness.

Last Sunday I had the opportunity to visit with a lot of people after worship. No one mentioned my note explicitly, but I could tell many of them had read it and that it helped them know how to talk to me and how to offer help. Lots of people asked if this is a good week -- that is, are you feeling well today? It is so much easier for me to establish comfortable connections with people when they have a context for understanding my varied behavior.

Tomorrow I will have chemo again, and on Sunday I will probably be tired and not too interested in chatting. I will likely rest in my husband's office while the kids go to Sunday school. Me hiding in his office while everyone else is in Bible study could be pretty confusing. But since most people know I need to do that sometimes, I don't think it will be an issue. My husband has even said my note has helped him answer questions about how I'm doing.

Thumbs up for this little project.

Managing Mrs Pastor

I started writing this blog a little over a year ago for entirely selfish reasons. At the time I thought I was a rare specimen: a miserable pastor's wife. Writing about the conflict at our church and my depression helped me cope with it. I thought a couple of people might read it but that I'd mostly be writing to myself.

Turns out that unhappiness among pastor's wives is not so rare! It is deeply satisfying to me to be connected to so many other women who are supportive, empathic, and hopeful in Christ. It also requires a fair bit of energy.

A while ago I set up my computer with two users: me and mrs pastor. When I talk about the blog I usually talk about mrs pastor in the third person. I'm not sure why, precisely, but I feel like I can manage all the weight associated with this stuff better when I keep a little distance most of the time.

I love that some of you write comments and send me e-mail and facebook messages. It is always encouraging and I am happy to chat about our lives. Some days. Sometimes several days go by and I don't log on to mrs pastor because I don't have any energy to cope with my feelings or anybody else's.

Thanks for being a part of this. You make a big difference in my life.