Clergy Spouse Confessions

Sometimes I like to make mental lists of career choices for my husband that would have been harder on me. So this morning as we get ready for church and look forward to his upcoming vacation days, I sip my coffee and give thanks that Chris is not an Astronaut on the ISS, 19th century whaling captain, or a hit man for hire. That I know of.

One day recently I was standing in the narthex with a heavy baby on my hip (no offense Monsieur Nils) glancing over the shoulder of the person talking to me (to make sure Carolena was in fact only taking one donut) when I saw Chris. He walked into the Narthex and slipped right into the bathroom. And it was then, in that moment, that I came to understand the feeling of pure unadulterated envy. Ah, to know the freedom of just stopping in a bathroom when one needs. No worries about how to keep a three year old from "touching everything!" and juggle a baby on one's lap while urinating. That, my friends, is freedom.

I once poured old sour milk into my coffee on a Sunday morning. I tried my best to make it work but after several sips just had to dump it. Knowing that there is always hot coffee percolating in the parish hall just gets us to church faster every Sunday morning.

This morning I'm going to remember to pee before we leave the house.