I went shopping the other day. If you’re like me, you might need a little refresher course. I mean Shopping. In a store. As in, I was trying to find a few articles of clothing. For me. Not for my husband. Not for the kids. Not for the baby. For me. Every once in a while I’ll pick something up online, but I can’t remember the last time I actually went shopping for myself in a store.

And do you know what I walked away with? I walked away with nothing but this one burning question: WHY DO I TORTURE MYSELF?

OK, first of all, what is up with my body? That’s what I wanna know. How is it possible that I have increased by 2 sizes? I just had a baby, true, but I’m not talking about the nearly 40 pounds (yes four. zero.) I gained during pregnancy. No, I’m talking about the literal 2 extra inches in hip bone circumference.

The medical establishment would have us believe those labor pains are our bodies pushing that baby out. I say no. That’s just a ploy to make us feel empowered while giving birth…and to make us do it again. Actually, the pain we feel is not the baby coming down the birth canal but our bones being cranked into a new (and wider) position. See, if they told us the truth (i.e. that you will go up at least one dress size for every kid you birth), I suspect we would see a steady population decline as women everywhere would just say no. But I digress.

So anyway, shopping. I go to the store and head straight for the, what else, but the clearance rack. I’m looking through the clothes and find a skirt that seems cute. I look at the tag. Wow! What a steal. Wonder if it’ll fit. I doubt it. But I’ll give it a whirl.

Then suddenly, I’m overcome by panic. I start pondering the price of the skirt and I wonder why it’s so cheap. Is it on clearance because it is so ghastly that no one who’s anyone would wear it? Is it so 5 seasons ago? If I wear this skirt, will other women look at me with pity just as I look at those poor souls who still wear banana clips in their hair?

The truth is, I have no clue what I’m doing. But I’m desperate for some clothes…at least that’s what my mom told me the last time she came to visit and you know if your mom has to tell you that your things are looking “a little ratty” that it must be pretty bad and my mom is definitely not the type who would normally make a comment like that except to be helpful and supportive and it was so obvious she was doing it out of love because along with her comment came the promise to send over a few gift cards to help with the problem.

So now, as I’m pulling things off the rack, I’m extremely self-conscious. I’m thinking, “What if people see me with something in my hand to try on and it’s really hideous? What will they think?”

So here’s what I do: I find a basic piece of clothing, a pair of black pants actually, because black pants are always in style, right? and I put those on the outside of the stack of clothes I’m going to try on because those are the most visible and then if anyone looks at the clothes in my hand to try on, they’ll just see the black pants and maybe they won’t see the rest of the stuff I’ve chosen just in case any of it is really horrid.

You think I’m lying, but I kid you not. I really do this.

And then I start roaming the aisles of the store and I find women who appear to be about my age (or younger, but not too much younger because the real young ones are always about a size negative 3 and I just don’t get that) and I check out what they’re wearing. At this point I just need some ideas.

So I’m finally ready to try all these things on that I’ve so painstakingly gathered but when I get to the fitting room, I’m informed that the dressing rooms are closed—they close 30 minutes before the store closes (and the store is closing in 5 minutes) so now I’m just feeling plain dumb. But they’ll be open again tomorrow morning at 9 or 10 or whatever, but that doesn’t help me because the 45 minutes I managed to find between feedings, bedtimes and meals to make it to the store this day was a complete fluke and will probably not happen again for another 3 years. Second, I am obviously a total shopping idiot and why would I want to return to the store a second day in a row to confirm that fact?

No, I think I’ll stick to shopping online. It’s so much nicer to be humiliated and confused in the privacy of my own home.

Regarding my last post…

Thank you to those of you who expressed support in your comments. I appreciate your encouragement and your feedback.

At the same time, I’m of the opinion that there is generally some sort of growth potential in any situation, no matter how uncomfortable it is to walk through. Maybe I don’t know when to let an issue go, but I continue to mull over the things Carolin P. brought up, like, for example, whether or not I’m bitter. I think it’s a good question to ask myself.

I was interested to see that Carolin left another comment in response to my last post (or, in response to all the comments everyone else left on my last post).

Carolin,

I definitely want to hear you. I must admit, some of the things you’ve said have been slightly painful, but nevertheless, I think you’ve raised some valid questions and I’d like to explore them. I hope you’ll be willing to clarify a few things.

First, regarding the post which seemed to get this ball rolling, I wonder if a little more explanation would be helpful. I made the comment about “throwing the bad ones back” in a casual setting and completely in jest. I think it’s safe to say that all who were present took it as such. Granted, it was probably a little “edgy” in nature and it is true that there are very often individuals in the church that are challenging to deal with. However, my comment was not intended as, nor understood as (as far as I can tell), my heartfelt wish that any fellow believer become an unbeliever (or anything similar).

I was unable to ascertain from your comments whether or not you are a pastor’s wife yourself. Just wondering if you are and if so, for how long? The reason I ask is because I’m genuinely intrigued by your following statement:

For goodness sake, let’s all take a more simpler, organic approach to being the wife of a pastor. I get the feeling that, in her attempt to be “not the typical Pastors wife” that Amy, and so many other wives of pastors, have actually in some way built up this PW thing to be bigger than it is…

Obviously I have not met all PW’s, however, I don’t ever recall a PW describe her experience as being simple or no big deal. To the contrary, the PW’s I’ve encountered generally express their surprise at how difficult, challenging, stretching, complex and/or overwhelming the role really is. Therefore, if you are a PW, as I said, I’m genuinely interested in hearing your story, because when you said,

…from reading through this blog, I sense that, in general, she[Amy] feels inadequate and insecure about her job and her performance…which might breed the hint of bitterness and anxiety I detect,

a lot of what you sense is correct. I do feel inadequate. I do feel insecure about my “job” and my “performance.” That’s exactly what I feel and that’s a lot of what this blog is about—me working through it. I certainly don’t want those feelings to breed sin, whether it be bitterness or anything else, but I don’t think the struggle itself is wrong nor is it necessarily something to be avoided.

And regarding your statement:

Yes, being the pastors wife comes with expectations from others…but maybe the bulk of those expectations come from things of the world and the traditions of man (i.e., the title “First Lady” implies a lot).

I would agree that the bulk of the expectations PW’s feel comes from “the world and the traditions of man.” So, assuming that’s true, what should we do with them? I know I speak for many PW’s when I say that those expectations are not easily discarded or disregarded. They are real and often burdensome. For many, it is unbelievably difficult to navigate through them, especially when they are so varied in nature, when they come from so many people, when they are impossible to live up to and/or when they are inextricably tied to one’s own personal life and marriage.

I welcome your thoughts…

Amy

Blogging is a funny thing. I suppose it serves a different purpose for each blogger, but if I had to explain why I blog I think I’d describe it this way: I voluntarily expose my life to the world in the hopes that someone out there might identify with my experience and gain some sort of personal value from it.

Well, exposing one’s life often comes at a cost. For bloggers, one of those costs can be the feedback from others which isn’t always easy to hear. Case in point:

Carolin P. wrote the following comment in response to this post:

Unlike the others, I think that is a terrible thing to say.

Is it too much to maybe read something spiritually uplifting here once in a while? Pray for a little more Godly self-esteem so you can stop using your lack thereof as an excuse to spew misery.

Reading that comment has launched me into some serious soul-searching the last several days.

Now, I should start out by saying that I’m not a huge fan of Carolin’s delivery. I wasn’t exactly feelin’ the love. I mean, I’m always open to a gentle rebuke. It was definitely a rebuke. But gentle? Not so much.

Anyway, I initially felt stung and out of my hurt, came up with about a dozen not-so-gentle things I’d really like to say to her in response. But of course, that’s not the best idea (although it would feel pretty good).

But once I worked through all of that, I decided this would be a good opportunity to take a good look at The State of Me.

So, I asked my husband if he thought there was any merit to what she said. He said he thinks I can come across as a little bitter at times. OK. I can see that. I can especially see how that would be true when the reader is unable to see my nonverbals, can’t hear my intonation and/or doesn’t know me personally. Blogging is really unidimensional in that way. (Holy smokes, I just surprised myself with that $10 word. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word before in my life and it just popped right into my head. How about that.) But I’d like to add that how I come across is not the crux of the issue. The question is not “Do I come across as bitter?” but “Am I bitter?” Hmmmm. I’d better ponder that.

Anyway, I couldn’t talk about it with my husband extensively because I was starting to feel a little defensive. And when I get defensive, it generally isn’t pretty. So, that’s as far as we got.

And I’ve asked God if there’s any merit to Carolin’s comment too. This is one of those times I really wish God would just shoot me an email (Like, “Dear Amy, yes she’s right. Repent.” or “Dear Amy, she’s so wrong and you are so very, very right.”), but I’ve got the Bible and since that’s His Word, it’s just as good as an email. (It’d still be cool to get an email from God once though….especially if in it, He tells me I’m right.)

Anyway, after all the hashing and rehashing and thinking and pondering, the bottom line is this: Do I reflect Christ?

I don’t know the answer exactly, but I’m pretty sure it’s partly yes and partly no. I think there are times when I do and I’m quite certain there are times when I don’t. It’s those times when I don’t that need sorting out.

So back to her comment. Objectively, I think there was some exaggeration on her part. For example, if she’s read my blog for an extended period of time, I don’t think she would say I’ve never written anything “spiritually uplifting.” And I can see how it seems I have zero self-esteem, but I know that’s not the truth either. And about “spew[ing] misery.” Perhaps I do that and I don’t see it (as my husband suggested), but I do think it was a little overstated. I certainly don’t feel miserable, although I do admit, life as a Pastor’s Wife feels very hard at times.

I am often sarcastic and pessimistic and generally a bit intense in my self-analysis. So, I have to determine if each of those things is a personality trait or a sinful attitude (or something else). If they’re part of who I am, I have to determine if I sin in my handling of them. I find it’s a tricky balance to maintain…that is, being true to myself and true to God’s truth at the same time. The lines get a little (OK a lot) blurred for me there.

But take heart. I’ll figure it out someday. It may not be on this side of heaven, but someday, I will. figure. it out.

For Father’s Day, my husband chose to eat at one of the Indian restaurants nearby. We love Indian food (particularly the all-you-can-eat buffets) and the kids especially love the Tandoori Chicken.

In case you’re not familiar with Tandoori Chicken, you should definitely become familiar. It’s very tasty. I don’t claim to know how they make it, but I think they rub tandoori spice on it before cooking. The spice makes the chicken bright red in color.

So, as we’re eating lunch. my daughter looks down at her Tandoori Chicken. Her face suddenly brightens (as in a aha! moment) and she says, “Hey mom, maybe this was a Cardinal before!”

When it comes to parenting, I don’t catch on very fast. When I encounter a never-before-faced problem (or “challenge” as some would call it, although I don’t) in child-rearing, which happens, oh, about every 6 hours, I’m generally stumped. On a good day, I can come up with a solution quickly, however, very often, it takes me days, sometimes weeks. (You can imagine, then, the backlog of problems waiting for a good solution. No wonder I walk around clueless half the time.)

Anyway, the newest “problem” is hovering. My daughter hovers. Wherever I am, there she is also. If I go upstairs, she’s soon to follow. If I go downstairs, she’s right at my heels. If I’m sitting on one side of the room and get up to go to the other side of the room, she does the same.

Now, let me stop right here and address those of you who are undoubtedly thinking, “Well, isn’t that nice that her daughter wants to be near her?” and “She’d better enjoy it while it lasts because it won’t be long before her daughter doesn’t want anything to do with her.”

OK. That’s all fine and nice. I am glad she wants to be with me. I can even admit that 5 or 10 years from now I may be longing for these “good ole days” when I was the center of her universe. But that’s then. This is now people. And right now, the hovering MAKES ME CRAZY! I. Just. Need. Spaaaaaace.

There is one exception to her hovering rule. After school, when she gets off the bus, she bounds into the house and the first words out of her mouth are “Can I call [fill in the blank with the name of any one of a number of her friends] to play?” or “Can [again, fill in the blank] come over?”

But rest assured, if she can’t find anyone to play with, the hovering begins anew.

So, I had a particularly hovering-heavy day one day last week and when my husband got home, I proceeded to verbally vomit all over him as I told him how my day had been.

And then it hit me. It was an aha! moment. One that left me speechless and wondering how on earth it could possibly be true. It was one of those realizations that caused me to look at my husband and ask, “How can this be? Are we absolutely sure this is our offspring? Is it even possible (or legal) that someone so different from us could actually be born from us?”

Because it was in that moment, I had the most shocking revelation: I have this eerie feeling that my daughter, the one whom I have always assumed was just. like. her. mother. is really, in fact, her own person AND as impossible as it sounds, I think she is, is, is, dare I say it, I think she is…….an extrovert.

Believe me, I am ecstatic that I finally figured it out.

But now I have no idea what to do with an extrovert.

Hey PW’s. The forum’s up…again. Check it out.

So, it seems the server crashed and everything from the beginning of June is lost. Nice. This would include all posts I’ve written in the last week as well as the Pastors’ Wives Forum. So, if you’re wondering where everything is, it’s lost in computer oblivion somewhere. Bear with me as I try to get everything up and running once more.

Let this be a lesson to me: Backup. Files. More. Often.