Do you ever wish there had been a class or something for pastors' wives? (No, I'm not talking about the satirical fake class featured in fictional Lark News!)
I look at my pastor husband. Besides his 500-hour seminary degree (hyperbole alert), he's also had specific training in substance abuse counseling, and the experience benefit from a chaplain internship at a mental health facility.
Me? Not so much.
I'm just me. I read my Bible. I pray. I commune. Sure, some nuggets of wisdom may rub off on me over time; but so many times even today, I feel ill-equipped.
It's funny, because I'm the first one to tell other pastors' wives to just be who God made them to be. "Love God and love people! That's all you need to do," I've said too many times to count now.
Still, sometimes that doesn't feel like enough. I wish I had taken a class to refine my people skills.
I'm not Mrs. Pastor. Never have viewed myself that way. But there are times when people come to me when they should really go to him. But for whatever reason, they feel more comfortable talking to me.
I pray hard and try to treat the situation as a friend talking to another friend. Yet, there's this nagging feeling that the other person does not see it that way...