support beam: left behind wives part 1

I wasn't raised to be a supportive wife. I mean, I don't think anybody would've minded if I said that's what I wanted to do, but I never did. I wanted to be President. I don't want to be President anymore. For one thing, I have no idea where my birth certificate is. I kid. It's possibly in a folder in my van. Maybe.

But I was brought up thinking I could do anything, be anything. I knew I had giftings, talents, a "calling", and when I met the MOG at the ripe old age of 15, I knew our giftings would work perfectly together. We launched a successful youth ministry, started a band, graduated high school and got married, pretty much in that order. Then we trained teens and saw hundreds brought to salvation, and eventually hit the road full-time with the band. We brought baby R2 with us everywhere, and I preached and sang and I was right there, in the middle of everything, all the time.

At various points during my touring years, I would think about giving it up, and staying at home with what was becoming a growing family. And I hated the idea. I mean, I was miserable on the road without my kids, but I was seeing people get healed every night, and plus, the community and the fun of the band... it killed me to think about giving that up. Plus, there were elements of image involved. I liked being in a band, and traveling, and being a rockstar in the way that only a mother of 3 in a moderately successful  (among dozens of people) independent worship group can be.

But eventually, I had to make a decision. And I felt the grace of God to lay down that dream and to embrace my family, my home. So I started staying home. Night after night, they'd see deaf ears healed and drug addictions broken, and they'd break sound barriers. I would make sandwiches because I was too tired to cook and then fall asleep in a room that never quit smelling like diapers.

Here's the thing. I had to get it, what I was doing and why. The only alternative to "getting" it and embracing it was hating it and pulling the rug out from under Richy. So I took on my ministry. It wasn't as clear cut as I'm writing it, but I had to change my perspective. While I was cutting Barbie out of the mini-blinds and offering Band-Aids, I was doing the ministry. While I cried out of frustration because some animal got into the trash and I was the only one big enough to clean it up, I was enabling my husband to see souls saved. My giftings and callings, for this season of my life, are for my immediate community, and that includes the man I married.

Left-behind wives: what you do, how you give is crucial. You are every bit as much a minister and a part of what is happening in those services, in the outreaches, in the trenches. It would not happen if you weren't serving the way you are. If you can see that, you will be more likely to wash the Man of God's underwear without resentment before sending him back out on the road.

most of the band and all of the "home team"

Is it easy to share your husband with the world, or the church or whomever? Of course not. But very few things in life are easy. If you can send him out with your support and your blessing, you send a guy who can fight the battles out there he needs to fight, without having to fight you for the right to do what he's supposed to be doing.

(There's a whole 'nother angle here, about raising worldchangers and your ministry in mothering, but right now I'm just talking about the support role)

Lift your eyes, friends. You are where you're supposed to be, and there can be great joy here. You just have to see differently.