September 25, 2007

The Life of a P's Wife.

This Sunday morning, thank your P's wife. She is a good woman. Every Sunday her husband is up and out the door before the kids get up, in the shirt she pressed late the night before, with a smile on his face and her love in his heart. Then the kids wake up, and she has exactly 2 hours to get everyone fed, washed up, dressed-up, and out the door BY HERSELF. Most women stay home from Sunday meeting when their husbands are out of town. Can you imagine trying to blow dry your hair and put on mascara in the third shirt you've had on that morning, while one child is hollering for more cheerios and one is crying to be nursed? And of course both kids poop their pants just before walking out the door, and while you're carrying one of them to the changing table, he spits up on your shirt. Time for shirt number four. And getting to meeting is only the beginning. Did you know that everyone, EVERYONE watches the P's wife? Oh yes. If she is too tired to raise her hands during the opening praise song, someone is bound to come up to her afterward and say, "Oh dear, are you alright?," as if she has lost her faith altogether. Or if she breaks down and cries in the hall to a good friend because she was up all night with her babies, her neighbor is bound to walk over later that afternoon and say "I heard you were crying at meeting this morning. Are you OK?." (Both of these things have actually happened to me). She can never wear a shirt that is cut too low because someone might see her. She can never honk at someone on the road because they might be a member of her congregation, and she can never sleep in on Sunday morning. She is a good woman.