If you’ve been following my blog for awhile, then you know that my husband used to be a youth pastor. He started out volunteering at the church where we met, but then got a full time job at a smaller church. A couple of years after that he was offered a junior high position at one of the biggest churches in our area. Each church had it’s own pros and cons, but overall he loved doing ministry and I liked being a “pastor’s wife.”
A couple of years ago the bubble burst, he lost his job in ministry, and since then he has started his own business as a mold inspector. At first, it was a hit to the pride for both of us. I know men usually find their identity in what they do, but I had found my identity in being a pastor’s wife. There was something special about it, and I liked it. So, when people would ask what he’s doing now, I would have to take a big gulp before I replied, “He’s a mold inspector.” Yes, it’s an honorable profession. Yes, it pays the bills. Yes, someone needs to do it. Yes, it saves lives from toxic black mold. But it doesn’t feel as world-changing as being a youth pastor did. I would sometimes just say, “Oh, he started his own business” just to avoid the word “mold.” I don’t know. It’s just not attractive. And most people don’t know how to follow the statement, “He’s a mold inspector.” I don’t blame them. It’s kinda gross, and not very exciting at all. So, you usually just get an exaggerated nod with an, “Oh… wow.”
However, two years have gone by, and now I love that Geric is a mold inspector. There’s not an ounce of embarrassment when people ask me what my husband does for a living. I suppose I’ve gotten used to it, and it helps that most people know now, so I don’t get asked too often. I like it that he’s his own boss. He makes his own rules and doesn’t have to answer to someone else. He makes his own hours. He works from home a lot. We see each other now more than we have ever seen each other in the span of our relationship. And it’s nice. We’ve become friends again.
I also really, really love living outside of the fishbowl. If you’ve been in ministry or been married to someone who’s in ministry or are a child of someone who is ministry then you know exactly what I’m talking about. People know you. People you don’t even recognize know you. And people come up and say hi like they’ve known you for years and you don’t even recognize their face. They know the names of your children and weird little stories about your life (that were probably used as a sermon illustration) and you smile and nod and act like you know them back, but you don’t. It’s not a horrible thing, but it does feel a little awkward at times, especially if you’re a natural introvert, like me.
The problem is, my husband is a pastor. He’s called to be in the ministry. I completely understand it. I am called to be a mother. If I had no children, but had the ability to have children, it would be sad and depressing and I would have a constant nagging to create a family. I could go on with my life, just my husband and I, and we could make the best of it, but there would be a void. And that would suck.
So, that’s where we’re at. We’re making the best of our situation, but there’s a void in Geric’s heart that can only be filled if he steps into his calling. But it makes me nervous. For starters, I’m just not a fan of change. I don’t want to lose my husband to the ministry. I don’t want him to take a job at a church that we are not completely sold out to. I don’t know if I’m ready to move back into the fishbowl. I’m comfortable where I’m at.
But I know I need to get out of the boat. Because if you don’t get out of the boat, then you can’t walk on water, right? I know that if Geric goes back into ministry, God will bless us. I’m confident that there are blessings waiting for us (for me) if we step out in faith and trust that God has our best in mind. I know He’ll never drop us, or let us drown, but it still doesn’t make stepping out of the boat any easier.
I also know that it’s my job to support my husband, help him to fulfill his dreams and to become the best version of himself that he could possibly be. I would never want to be the reason that he didn’t go back into ministry and in essence, let his dream die.
So, that’s where we’re at. I don’t know what’s going to happen from here. I don’t know if doors will open or slam shut in our faces. But I do know that we are going to hold each other’s hand and take a leap of faith, again. And I know, just like every time before, we won’t fall. We’ll soar.