Life as a pastor's wife has some unique challenges all year long, but I find it to be particularly challenging during the winter. There's the added pressure to not fall on ice and accidentally flash members of the congregation as they walk into the building (I so wish I was making this up!), there's setting an extra alarm to make sure that neither of us sleep in too late even though it is SO hard to get out from under the covers before the sun comes up, and perhaps worst of all, there's the magnetic force field that attracts snow to our area on Saturday night.
It doesn't snow every Saturday night in winter, but rest assured that if Eastern Iowa is going to get a heaping dose of snow, it will be on a Saturday night. In my previous life, this wouldn't have been a problem for two reasons; 1.) I rented, so I had a landlord to do the shoveling, and 2.) If it was too nasty outside, skipping church was always an option. Before you write me a scathing comment, I'm going to politely remind you that I grew up in Arizona and after four winters in Iowa, I can barely drive in inclement weather - me staying off the road from November - April is a public service gesture. And also, you're not the boss of me.
Now that I am a first lady (I heard once that some churches refer to pastors' wives as 'First Lady', and now I refuse to let my fantasy of being Michelle Obama go until someone, anyone, starts addressing me as such), my Sundays have gone from a peaceful morning off to a mad dash to get everyone showered, fed, dressed, and out the door/in the kennel. In the winter, there's an added desire to help my husband shovel a driveway, walkway, and two sidewalks before anything else can happen. And it's currently just two adults and a dog in our house! I'm certain that once we have tiny humans living here, we'll either constantly be late, be forced to forego breakfast, or put the wrong wild animal/child in the kennel. Sidenote: I'm sure you are brilliant and have already thought of this, but just in case, let me take this opportunity to urge you to NEVER buy a corner lot (two sidewalks) in a place that it snows. Also, don't buy a property with a fire hydrant on it - the firefighters of the world get a little pissy if they are trying to save your neighbor's house from burning down, but they are delayed because they have to dig out the hydrant first. The solution to this problem? Make the homeowners whose property the hydrant resides on dig it out, and if they don't within the allotted time, fine them. The city of Cedar Rapids has that tied up in a nice little bow!
Just when I thought that I finally have this chaotic Sunday morning scene down to a manageable science, we turned on one of our favorite shows, and my #1 Pastor's Wife blue ribbon was torn to shreds. We love watching 'Pioneer Woman' at our house - it's a cooking show hosted by Ree Drummond; married mother of four who homeschools her kids, helps her husband run a cattle ranch, and has her own tv show. This specific episode was titled 'Sunday Brunch', and she effortlessly made a ham, eggs inside of homemade hashbrown cups (like, she took the time to boil and shred potatoes into hashbrowns and then formed them into the shape of a cup), scratch biscuits and gravy, and a fruit salad. Ree managed to make said feast, set the table, make centerpieces from hand picked flowers, get four kids out the door, attend church, and serve brunch. She made a freaking ham, people. And decorative cups made out of freshly shredded potatoes to hold each person's eggs. It's a pretty big deal in our house if I make time to brown some hamburger and throw a bunch of canned ingredients into the crockpot before I leave for church. Most Sundays, Ryan gets a drive through meal.
I didn't use to be this way. I once had time to color code my Tupperware drawer. And I used to make biscuits and gravy for myself every Sunday morning. And I used to eat them slowly, enjoying every bite, before I leisurely started to get ready for church. Once ready to leave, I would stroll through my apartment making sure everything was turned off and that every hair on my head was perfectly as it should be.
These days, I'm typically shoving vitamins and a banana in my mouth as I run out the door an hour before the service I attend even starts, dragging a purse stuffed with extra batteries for Ryan's guitar, and stealing a quick glance back at the crockpot to make sure that I actually plugged it in.
As much as I long to be the well put together, never frazzled, picture perfect pastor's wife (ahem, First Lady), I'm more often the lady running through the hall with a hole in her leggings because she fell face first into the door of the church, holding a completely bent bible that I just dug out from underneath the pile of junk in my backseat, searching frantically for my husband to tell him I will be late for duties 6 through 9 because I am up to my eyeballs running my own subsect of ministry that I signed up for during all of my free time. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, I wouldn't complain about having it with cute little hashbrown cups holding my eggs.
