My Granddaughters inspired my poetry and photography today.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
I Still Do
Like most girls, when I met my husband I had a list. You know "the list" that every girl hides in her secret place and takes out at night just before going to bed. Yup, I had one too. Funny thing is my husband didn't meet every criteria on my list. Believe it or not, there were a few things He just didn't measure up to. Now that I think about it, I don't remember it being a major melt-down kind of disappointment. Sure this guy I dated for a few months wasn't perfect; neither was I. I secretly wondered if I met all the criteria on his list. Do guys have lists? You better believe it! Anyway, back to my list...after 32 years of marriage (we'll be married 33 years come May 26th), I realize that if he would have had the traits I thought I wanted in a man, it would have been a sure road to disaster in our marriage. I put some things on my list that were just too much like me. I really didn't want someone like me! Heaven forbid! We would have KILLED each other! I'm so glad that my forever Valentine is pretty much the opposite of me. We balance each other out. My weakness is camouflaged by his strengths; and my strengths are appreciated in the face of his weaknesses. Did I think I would find someone perfect? If so, I certainly wouldn't have put some of my traits on that list.
So a little advice to you girls out there that are still looking for your special Valentine; pull that list out and mark off anything that looks remotely like you...better yet figure out the opposite of that trait and you will find someone that will fit your needs better. So, Happy Valentine hunting!
"You'll find the right one if you let God do the choosing" - Quoted from Debbie Saiz
Preacher's Kid
Okay, let's be honest. Life isn't always easy for PK's (Preacher's kids), but I'm sick and tired of all the negative stuff going around at our expense. I was a PK before I became a PW (Preacher's wife). I will admit that there were bumps in the road growing up in a pastor's home, but for the most part, it was a wonderful place to be nurtured in.
My home was a loving, godly, happy home. My parents made a point to keep a lot of the church "trouble" from us kids, for which I am very grateful. As role models for ministry, somehow my parents made ministry look enticing. I WANTED to be a preacher's wife. Sure there were times I struggled; like the time I threatened suicide to get a boy's attention, or the time I snuck off to a football game with my girlfriend and cruised the strip afterward making me miss curfew; or the time a "caring" saint said she would love to have me for a daughter-in-law if I wasn't so fat. But to be honest, these weren't PK related. These were "life" situations that could have happened to any teenager.
Yes, the minister's family does live in a glass house, but is that all bad? Perhaps we should all wish to be accountable to the public for our actions. It might just make this world a better place to live in. Living in a glass house helped me balance some of my otherwise unwise decisions. For example, I never stepped foot in a bar because I knew the impact this would have on my father's reputation as a local pastor. I don't really see this had a negative effect on my life; just the opposite! I have never had to wake up with my aching head stuffed in a toilet from a hang over. I've never had an alcohol drinking problem because I've never tasted the stuff.
In Highschool when my other colleagues were sauntering over to the local "pot hangout" I was waiting on the corner for my mom to pick me up and take me to our favorite taco place. Was that so bad? It cultivated a best-friend relationship with my mother I have to this day (she is now 80 years old). I don't think so. It saved me multiple visits to the principal's office and a stretch in the juvenile detention center. Am I sorry I never shared a joint with my friends? Of course not! I'm thankful I didn't get started on "harmless" weed and moved to more potent substances. I've never spent one night in a drug rehab "clean house" or woke up in bed with a stranger after a love-in with the pot heads and hippies.
Come on folks, let's be honest. The best place in the world for me to grow up was in a glass house. I was blessed to be a PK. It paved the way for me to be a PW. I will be grateful forever for the things I learned at the feet of my minister-drenched parents. It made me want to jump in and get wet too!
I love ministry and chose to raise my children in a Preacher's home. They are PK's too. I didn't raise them in my home as a punishment, keeping them away from fun, freedom, and frequent fornication. No my friend, I gave them the joy of a non-disfunctional home! A home that offered peace during their troubled teen years, a good hot meal when they were flat broke and needed some grub, and open arms when life just wasn't fair and they needed a hug to reassure them that someone loved them unconditionally. I offered them a curfew to let them know that I cared about where they were and wanted them home safe in bed so I could sleep. Yes, I sheltered them but I'm not sorry, not one bit! Perhaps life was difficult for them too as teenagers, but life is difficult for everyone at times. I believe they had a better chance with two parents that loved each other, loved God and loved them than trying to survive in a dog-eat-dog world where parents beat their children behind closed doors because no one is looking.
I think I would rather have a glass house any day than one where no one knows what is going on because no one in the house is held accountable to anyone else. Give me accountability over self centered uncontrolled parents any day!
My home was a loving, godly, happy home. My parents made a point to keep a lot of the church "trouble" from us kids, for which I am very grateful. As role models for ministry, somehow my parents made ministry look enticing. I WANTED to be a preacher's wife. Sure there were times I struggled; like the time I threatened suicide to get a boy's attention, or the time I snuck off to a football game with my girlfriend and cruised the strip afterward making me miss curfew; or the time a "caring" saint said she would love to have me for a daughter-in-law if I wasn't so fat. But to be honest, these weren't PK related. These were "life" situations that could have happened to any teenager.
Yes, the minister's family does live in a glass house, but is that all bad? Perhaps we should all wish to be accountable to the public for our actions. It might just make this world a better place to live in. Living in a glass house helped me balance some of my otherwise unwise decisions. For example, I never stepped foot in a bar because I knew the impact this would have on my father's reputation as a local pastor. I don't really see this had a negative effect on my life; just the opposite! I have never had to wake up with my aching head stuffed in a toilet from a hang over. I've never had an alcohol drinking problem because I've never tasted the stuff.
In Highschool when my other colleagues were sauntering over to the local "pot hangout" I was waiting on the corner for my mom to pick me up and take me to our favorite taco place. Was that so bad? It cultivated a best-friend relationship with my mother I have to this day (she is now 80 years old). I don't think so. It saved me multiple visits to the principal's office and a stretch in the juvenile detention center. Am I sorry I never shared a joint with my friends? Of course not! I'm thankful I didn't get started on "harmless" weed and moved to more potent substances. I've never spent one night in a drug rehab "clean house" or woke up in bed with a stranger after a love-in with the pot heads and hippies.
Come on folks, let's be honest. The best place in the world for me to grow up was in a glass house. I was blessed to be a PK. It paved the way for me to be a PW. I will be grateful forever for the things I learned at the feet of my minister-drenched parents. It made me want to jump in and get wet too!
I love ministry and chose to raise my children in a Preacher's home. They are PK's too. I didn't raise them in my home as a punishment, keeping them away from fun, freedom, and frequent fornication. No my friend, I gave them the joy of a non-disfunctional home! A home that offered peace during their troubled teen years, a good hot meal when they were flat broke and needed some grub, and open arms when life just wasn't fair and they needed a hug to reassure them that someone loved them unconditionally. I offered them a curfew to let them know that I cared about where they were and wanted them home safe in bed so I could sleep. Yes, I sheltered them but I'm not sorry, not one bit! Perhaps life was difficult for them too as teenagers, but life is difficult for everyone at times. I believe they had a better chance with two parents that loved each other, loved God and loved them than trying to survive in a dog-eat-dog world where parents beat their children behind closed doors because no one is looking.
I think I would rather have a glass house any day than one where no one knows what is going on because no one in the house is held accountable to anyone else. Give me accountability over self centered uncontrolled parents any day!
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