In the cool of an early Saturday morning, she breezed through the farmers' market, stopping only long enough to make a couple of necessary purchases. Seeing her out of the corner of my eye while I stood talking to a fellow vendor, I had the momentary urge to call out her name if only to wave, but thought better of it. She looked like she was in a hurry and I had no way of knowing how many items she had left to check off her to-do list. Next time. I would speak with her next time.
The first time I ever spoke to her was after her pastor husband did a study at our church on a Sunday evening. As a line of those eager to speak to him began to form, she stood off to the side, as pastor's wives learn to do over time. I decided it was more important to share my story than wait in line to share it with him, so I introduced myself to her. When I asked if we could talk since the line to her husband was so long, she welcomed me to sit with her on the first pew.
I told her of a time I needed prayer and had met with her husband and my pastor. I had been in a bad way, trying to shrug off a feeling that would creep back in when I least expected it, leaving me in the dark, unable to find my way back to the light. After talking and praying, I could sense the pastors were attempting to bring some closure to our session so we could all go home. Panicking, I said I would not leave until I was doing better. I knew right then I had become a pastor's worst nightmare, but could not stop myself. I needed something tangible to happen. I had no idea what I was expecting.
After all was said and done, I told the pastor's wife that her husband asked if he could anoint my hand with oil. I agreed, having given up by that point, when I unexplainably started to feel a peace coming over me, restoring a healthy sense of well-being and a sound mind. Though I could not understand it, something supernatural had taken place. Grateful, I went home and slept peacefully.
Checking my emails later in the day, my closest friend--who was aware of my need for prayer--wrote that she had forgotten to tell me she had awakened the night before with a persistent thought that anointing oil should be used, along with the prayer. She had no idea why prayer would not be enough. That pastor may not have known why either. Yet this meeting needed to happen in just the way it did. We had all done what we were supposed to do, even though none of it made any sense.
What I wanted the pastor's wife to go home and tell her pastor husband was when he agreed to assist my pastor at my time of need, God used the faithfulness of both of these leaders to continue a healing in me that would inspire me to write prayers and eventually empower me to enter into leadership.
This pastor and his wife who now knew me, would stop by to visit me at the farmers' market and in time would ask me to make them a garland. I would see one or both of them from time to time as they enjoyed shopping there. He would eventually become my counselor during a time of transition.
Last December the pastor's wife bought my advent garland with its 24 pieces resembling houses that are either tied or clothes-pinned to a cord, numbering the days leading up to Christmas. When a number is turned over, a letter is revealed. By the time Christmas arrives the garland spells: LET PEACE BEGIN WITH ME which can be left up year-round as it is a sentiment that bears repeating.
The pastor's wife may have already left the farmers' market by the time I settled in to do some sewing, while greeting those stopping by my table to browse. I had spent hours in the days before cutting out the 24 parts to the advent garland, along with the numbers and letters, as this garland had already been ordered by a woman who showed up to buy it a couple of hours after the pastor's wife had purchased the one I made for last year's holiday season. Saturday marked my beginning of this year's holiday season, as I stitched this new advent garland while thinking of the pastor and his wife.
Hours later . . . in her heavenly home, the pastor's wife now has no need for an advent garland to mark off the days until Christmas. Every day is like Christmas, only better.
The first time I ever spoke to her was after her pastor husband did a study at our church on a Sunday evening. As a line of those eager to speak to him began to form, she stood off to the side, as pastor's wives learn to do over time. I decided it was more important to share my story than wait in line to share it with him, so I introduced myself to her. When I asked if we could talk since the line to her husband was so long, she welcomed me to sit with her on the first pew.
I told her of a time I needed prayer and had met with her husband and my pastor. I had been in a bad way, trying to shrug off a feeling that would creep back in when I least expected it, leaving me in the dark, unable to find my way back to the light. After talking and praying, I could sense the pastors were attempting to bring some closure to our session so we could all go home. Panicking, I said I would not leave until I was doing better. I knew right then I had become a pastor's worst nightmare, but could not stop myself. I needed something tangible to happen. I had no idea what I was expecting.
After all was said and done, I told the pastor's wife that her husband asked if he could anoint my hand with oil. I agreed, having given up by that point, when I unexplainably started to feel a peace coming over me, restoring a healthy sense of well-being and a sound mind. Though I could not understand it, something supernatural had taken place. Grateful, I went home and slept peacefully.
Checking my emails later in the day, my closest friend--who was aware of my need for prayer--wrote that she had forgotten to tell me she had awakened the night before with a persistent thought that anointing oil should be used, along with the prayer. She had no idea why prayer would not be enough. That pastor may not have known why either. Yet this meeting needed to happen in just the way it did. We had all done what we were supposed to do, even though none of it made any sense.
What I wanted the pastor's wife to go home and tell her pastor husband was when he agreed to assist my pastor at my time of need, God used the faithfulness of both of these leaders to continue a healing in me that would inspire me to write prayers and eventually empower me to enter into leadership.
This pastor and his wife who now knew me, would stop by to visit me at the farmers' market and in time would ask me to make them a garland. I would see one or both of them from time to time as they enjoyed shopping there. He would eventually become my counselor during a time of transition.
Last December the pastor's wife bought my advent garland with its 24 pieces resembling houses that are either tied or clothes-pinned to a cord, numbering the days leading up to Christmas. When a number is turned over, a letter is revealed. By the time Christmas arrives the garland spells: LET PEACE BEGIN WITH ME which can be left up year-round as it is a sentiment that bears repeating.
The pastor's wife may have already left the farmers' market by the time I settled in to do some sewing, while greeting those stopping by my table to browse. I had spent hours in the days before cutting out the 24 parts to the advent garland, along with the numbers and letters, as this garland had already been ordered by a woman who showed up to buy it a couple of hours after the pastor's wife had purchased the one I made for last year's holiday season. Saturday marked my beginning of this year's holiday season, as I stitched this new advent garland while thinking of the pastor and his wife.
Hours later . . . in her heavenly home, the pastor's wife now has no need for an advent garland to mark off the days until Christmas. Every day is like Christmas, only better.
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