by Donna Poole
When Jim first told Darlene he felt God had called him to be a pastor, she was horrified.
“Wait! Me? A pastor’s wife? God hasn’t said a word about it. He hasn’t called me; I know that for sure.”
Not feeling called would bother her for many years. Not only hadn’t Darlene felt the call to be a pastor’s wife; she’d thought she could do anything else better: fly a single-engine plane solo across the Atlantic, become a whaler, or open a dogsled business in Alaska.
In Darlene’s mind a pastor’s wife was sweet, angelic Mrs. Kole, who sat in the first pew and looked reverently at her husband during every word of his lengthy sermon. Darlene was certain Mrs. Kole hadn’t told or laughed at a joke in her life. Darlene loved to laugh, a laugh that sometimes dissolved into a snort that made people look strangely at her.
Mrs. Kole was a serene, lovely woman, who refused to say an unkind word about anyone, even when people gave her good reason. Her refusal to gossip was legendary. Three women in the church once hatched a plot to make her say something bad about someone.
They surrounded Mrs. Kole at the church door where she stood next to her husband, saying gracious goodbyes to the congregation.
“So, Mrs. Kole, what do you think of the devil?”
Mrs. Kole’s gentle, ever-present smile faded, and a tiny frown line appeared between her kind, blue eyes. The three women had all they could do not to jab each other in the ribs with glee. Here it came!
“Well. . ..” Mrs. Kole paused, troubled. Then her face brightened. “The devil certainly is good at what he does, isn’t he?”
The women gave up on Mrs. Kole the way the Pharisees and Sadducees did when they threw their hands in the air and stopped trying to stump Jesus with questions.
“No wonder she’s so quiet all the time,” they grumbled to each other. “What do people talk about if they don’t talk about other people?”
When Darlene mentioned to her mother-in-law she couldn’t be as perfect as Mrs. Kole, Mom Peters assured her Mrs. Kole hadn’t always been so perfect; although, she had given her husband her undivided attention, hanging onto every word of his sermon, oblivious to all else.
That focused attention once kept Mrs. Kole from noticing their daughter, two-year-old Judi, stand on the pew next to her and remove every piece of clothing except her ruffled white socks and her tiny black patent leather shoes. Though no one in those days giggled in church, and if someone did, a lightning bolt zapped through a stained-glass window and struck the offender where he or she sat, there was a noticeable stirring in the pews.
Pastor Kole stopped pounding the pulpit long enough to notice his daughter. He looked at his wife and jerked his head toward Judi. Mrs. Kole smiled sweetly at him. He scowled and jerked his head a few more times. Finally, she noticed Judi, standing on the pew, not at all concerned about her parents’ reputation. When you’re only two, you figure the clergy can take care of itself.
If the clergy wanted to wear clothes, let them; Judi wasn’t clergy.
Mortified, Mrs. Kole pulled Judi off the pew and dressed her.
After Mom Peters recounted this story, Darlene asked, “Did anyone say anything to Mrs. Kole about it?”
“Oh, no!” Her mother-in-law laughed. “No one mentioned it to her. It wasn’t done, you know.”
Darlene thought it may have been easier to have been a pastor’s wife in the 1930s than in the 1970s. She was sure if her two-year-old did that, someone, everyone, would say something.
Darlene didn’t think she’d ever make a good pastor’s wife. So many women were better suited to the job. Maybe Jim should have married one of them. What was God thinking?
Darlene had heard some pious testimonies given by pastors’ wives. In martyr-like tones they’d said they could withstand the battle only because God had called them to be pastors’ wives, even before they’d met their husbands. Because of this, they hadn’t considered marrying anyone but a pastor. Darlene didn’t question their testimonies, but she hadn’t felt anything like they’d described. That bothered her.
Darlene had married Jim because she loved him, and she hadn’t cared if he became a pastor, a factory worker, or a garbage man. She might have objected to mob hitman.
Well, called or not, being a pastor’s wife was about to become her job. She had definite opinions on most things, okay on everything, but hopefully God would put His hand over her mouth at the appropriate times because, unlike Mrs. Kole, she wasn’t all that quiet.
