Born a Pastor's Daughter

I was born a “Pastor’s Daughter”.  My earliest recollections are those of visiting with my parents observing their considerate pastoral care and ministering to the lost, sick, hurting, and bereaved.  In the early fifties in Chattanooga it was still customary to sit with the family of the deceased at the funeral home during the night prior to the day of the memorial service.  Very often, my mother, the pastor’s wife, would be the member of the pastoral team staying the night! 

I learned early the responsibilities of pastoral families.  You had to be careful what you said, how you dressed, and certainly how you behaved.  I observed my mother deny herself things she would have liked because of appearances.  She gave of herself and her time without complaint or resentment.  She learned sign language to minister to the deaf in our congregation.  She wrote Christmas plays each year to include every member of the youth group possible.  She played piano for the choir.  You get my point.  My mother, the pastor’s wife, gave freely of her best to the people of God because she loved her Heavenly Father.  Many people saw her deeds.  Others never knew of her actions; but God did.  And today, she has attained her reward in Heaven because of her faithfulness to Him and His people.

This month around the world we honor Pastors and their families.  We especially honor the pastor's companion who often serves in the background, giving much more than many recognize.  In some cases, the pastor is a woman whose husband, faithfully serves by her side.  These men are spiritual giants, too often over-looked. 

Yes, I was born a pastor's daughter.  I was not neglected.  I did not sacrifice.  I was blessed to live in the parsonage and observe first-hand what a loving pastor's home was like.  I am grateful for my heritage and very appreciative of the loving congregation who showed their love and appreciation often to our family!