Transparency {Part 2}

It was a day that started out as any other weekday. The kids had eaten breakfast, done chores, and were sitting at the table working on their school (we homeschooled at the time). I had finished all the laundry the day before, and as lovely as that sounds, there were now mounds of unfolded laundry all over my couch beckoning me to fold them.

I begrudgingly began to fold neat stacks one by one, secretly wishing I could hire a maid service just to do the laundry. It is, of all the chores in my house, my least favorite. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the younger two still had their pajamas on and that I hadn’t wiped down the kitchen table from breakfast, but I figured we weren’t going anywhere and those things could wait.

That’s when it came – the phone call, the ring, that would change my perspective of ministry from there on out.

It was Lonnie (name changed). She was struggling and needed to talk. I could tell it was a bigger talk than a phone call could take care of, but I anxiously looked around my living room, thinking that there was no possible way to have her in my home.

I thought that maybe if I explained that I had laundry everywhere and was still working on cleaning up breakfast, then we could work out something for late afternoon or evening. Of course, she didn’t care at all. In fact, she said, “I can be there in five minutes! I’ll help you with the laundry while we talk; it can’t be that bad.”

Ladies, it really was that bad! I cordially gave an “Oh! Sure!” and dove into wiping off the table and sweeping up spilt cereal. My heart was in my stomach. What would she think of this pile of laundry? Less than those promised five minutes later (it’s a small town; it takes less than five minutes to drive across it), she pulled up into our driveway.

I felt like a wreck. Wearing sweats, no makeup, and with toddlers whose hair hadn’t been brushed or clothes put on, I answered the door. I didn’t know Lonnie that well. What would she think? She immediately saw the pile of clothes and exclaimed, “Wow! You weren’t kidding!”

I was mortified. Yet, the next thing she said put my worry and fear in place. “I have six kids. Five of them are boys. Let’s get started!” She rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Let me tell you, ladies, I never had a better conversation and deeper time of fellowship than when we were elbow deep in boys’ boxer shorts and mismatched socks.

You see, I learned something that day about Lonnie that I didn’t know before. She had recently been saved out of the Catholic church and begun attending our little church. That part I did know. However, what I didn’t realize was that the traditions of her Catholic church ran so strongly through her mind that she believed Jonathan and I were close to perfect, if not completely so, as they believe their priests are.

Inviting her into my not-so-perfect home, with a pile of laundry and ragtag children running all over, helped her to see that I was not perfect. Because of that, she opened up about her life and asked me about mine. We encouraged each other, laughed, and cried together that day. My understanding of transparency, encouragement, and the body of Christ grew just as much as this young believer’s understanding on that memorable morning.

I learned that day that in order to be a pastor’s wife who is approachable and truly encouraging, I don’t have to have it all together. It doesn’t mean I have to divulge all my dark secrets and struggles, but it does mean that I have to show that I live life, too.

I must live life in a way that proclaims how God has comforted me and taught me, so that I can comfort and lead them to Him as well. And, yes, it often means folding those mountains of laundry together while you invest in each others lives because it is in those moments that God’s work is done.

Transparency {Part 1}