Thursday, June 30, 2011


I know that there are horror stories out there about growing up in a pastor's home. This week I was reminded of one of the best parts of growing up "in the ministry". I have a childhood friend who was also the maid of honor in my wedding. In the last 10 years we lost contact. It would hit me from time to time how much I missed her and I would talk to her sister on fb but didn't reconnect. Then she signed up for facebook...which I love btw! We reconnected and she said she had a photo to send me.

I opened my email to find this.

This is her dad and I. We think it was taken the summer before my senior year in high school. This would be the summer that we moved from my "hometown". That would be the "hometown" that my dad had pastored in for 14 years. The same "hometown" that I had gone to school since kindy.

That summer we went to youth camp with our our previous church. I got to spend some quality time with lifelong friends.

This picture reminds me of the best part of being in ministry...the people. They are the family you create when you don't live next door to your family. Pops (as all his girls called him) was a second father to me for years. He probably thought I lived with him when I was in high school. When I went to college I was actually closer to Pops and Mom Marilyn's house than my own parents. Mom Marilyn did more of my laundry in college than my mom did and they always had an open door for me (and usually gas money).

This picture is bittersweet. Pops passed away in 1998 just a couple of months after we lost Josiah. I left my childhood home from his funeral to bury my first son's ashes. The comfort came in knowing that because of his faith my son and Pops were together. Eternity will be so sweet.

So while ministry is hard...I so want that for my children. I want them to share the joys of creating a church community family that will carry them through the darkest times in their lives.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I always heard the horror stories, too, but I wouldn't trade my life as a PK for anyone's. Sure, people are always watching everything you do, but is that always necessarily a bad thing? I always feel a little sorry for everyone who didn't grow up the way I did.