I’ve become a lazy writer. For the past six months, I have posted pictures to my IG feed and found myself using it as my journal. I started to post a picture today and when I realized how long my “journal” was…I figured it was time to revisit the blog for sharing this tidbit of my heart with you. (I’m not even sure who ‘you’ is…weirdness)
This is an emotional week for the Higle crew. Yesterday, my Dad preached his last sermon from the pulpit where he has preached for the past 34 years. My head is spinning with so many memories and stories that I want to record for my kids about my life as a preacher’s kid.
Someday those stories might make it onto here or into a book…I mean my parent’s own a publishing company…that shouldn’t be that hard right?
This morning as I was doing my Bible reading in 1 Peter, the stories flooding my head were about my mom. . .the life she has lived for the past 40 plus years as a preacher’s wife.
These stories started coming to the forefront of my mind this past week when my mom texted me a picture.
A single photograph can literally cause a thousand memories to come flooding into the brain. The picture was of my mom and some ladies from her church who took my mom to lunch to celebrate her. My mom has been their “pastor’s wife for 34 years.”
My momma and these women used to meet each week to do Bible study. No doubt these ladies prayed me through every up and down since I was 6.
Being a pastor’s wife can be a lonely job. The job requires you to keep people’s words and their stories as treasures…protecting their words as gold.
Pastors’ wives carry a load on their shoulders that many don’t understand. The ladies in that picture have helped my momma carry that load. Not as some do in the world. . .to know the “scoop” of what’s going on in people’s lives or behind the scene at church.
These ladies helped my momma carry the load of being a wife and mom to three headstrong kids and one uber headstrong husband.
As I read the third chapter of 1 Peter this morning, this photograph came to mind and the tears started streaming again.
This will be my momma’s last week to wear the hat of “Preacher’s wife”. . . A hat she has worn for over 40 years. Selfishly, I am more than excited for her to get to take a hat off so she can wear the hat of “Mum” (what we all call her) more.
As I read through these verses in 1 Peter 3 the morning, I went back to many discussions I have had over the past 20 years with people about the “role” of women…in marriage, in the church, in the working world…
I choose to stay out of these conversations these days. It’s such a heated topic. I never was much for debating.
I don’t jump into this boxing ring, not because I don’t think this is a discussion of value…but because I have found most who try to draw me into this “fight” are shocked by my response and they go onto the next person to join their army.
You see I was raised by a woman who lives every day of her life striving to adorn her heart with beauty…all while managing a successful publishing company, raising three kids, ministering to countless college students every Sunday, and wearing the hat of pastor’s wife.
Momma. In a world that pressures me to fight for position and title and a voice … Thank you for teaching me that the strongest and most powerful women adorn their hearts with beauty every day and thus … shatter the world’s definition of powerful and strong.
And if you think about it…isn’t that what Jesus asks of us? Isn’t that what He did for us?
I have no doubt that when my momma puts that “pastor’s wife” hat up on the shelf Sunday afternoon for the last time…that heaven will be applauding and shouting,
“Well done thy good and faithful servant.”
And all of us kids and grandkids will be fighting for who gets “Mum” at their house first the next Sunday.
For any of you who are wanting an idea of something you can do to let my mom know what she means to you (I’ve shared my mom with thousands over the years… no telling how many consider her their second momma and how many thousands of notes she has written to college students over the years), write her a card and mail it to her over the coming weeks. It’s going to be a hard transition, but your cards and stories you share with her will be a light on the emotional days for sure.