The 8th Year

And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.

The Bible - Colossians 3:14

On 11th August, we celebrated eight years of marriage. The day when we were head over heels in love, dreamy and all set for a great future. It suddenly dawns on us that we got through eight years of our marriage. When we just got married, I thought we would sing together, read together and dance in the kitchen. I thought I’ll get to wear a pretty dress, and go to one those romantic dinner dates. But it turns out that most of the time, we settle for ad-hoc eating stops in the middle of an errand trip, at the Karambu juice kadai, Yelaneer kadai, chicken Pakoda kadai, Idly Beef curry kadai and the Aavin milk parlour wearing flip flops and work clothes. These places don’t set the mood for romance, but we feel like college buddies hanging out and having fun. He listens to loud preachers, and I go and shut the volume down. I switch on the music to sing along, and he sings along in a teasing voice to shut me up. I pick a book to read, and he switches off the light. I’m riding on the bike with him always talking about something, and he’s saying, ‘Angu paaru pudhu Biryani kadai’. He’s told me like a zillion times not to leave the clothes on the iron table, but I make the poor man repeat it. We have petty repetitive fights, which neither of us can let go off. My brain functions better if my room looks like Saravanna stores. For Dawson, the room must be dim-lit like a Chinese restaurant even if it means that he has to search for the keys on the keyboard. I don’t notice the tiny things that need attention around the house. A domestic disorder doesn’t bother me. I don’t enjoy cleaning. Whereas, the mop is the first thing he notices when he steps inside our home. I hate the mopstick in my house so much so that she feels like the other woman in my husband’s life. After a conflict, I usually get silent for a couple of days. Because, during that time, I carefully plan my conversation. I ensure that I deliver my words with enough persuasion to coerce him to into seeing my point of view. However, I rarely succeed. Despite my careful choice of words, Dawson sticks to his worldview. I feel defeated, frustrated me and a million miles away from him. But then, he picks up my hand and squeezes it, saying ‘sorry’ because he does not know what else to say. That’s enough for me to understand that though we see things differently, he still cares. Though he doesn’t get it, he is always open and receptive to my feelings. I need something between nurturance and romance to fill my love-tank. However, Dawson sees parenting and domestic help as his way of showing love. I’m always looking for an opportunity to reconnect and remember the time when we were just married. I am quick to recognize such moments; however, Dawson can’t. I cannot understand why He uses up all our quiet moments in other activity, or listening to political opinions, or mopping the floor or cleaning the car, rather than investing it in me. Suddenly, I feel like a third wheel, his shadow and his useless sidekick. When I talk to him about it, he says, ‘You are important to me, and that is the truth. You have to believe it.’ Though I’m hurt, I see the truth in what he says. He always carries heavy bags after shopping. He checks on my parents even when I forget. He’s entirely transparent with all his spending. In addition to all our joint account plastic money, he puts extra cash my purse when I need to go somewhere without him. One day he hands me a Red Bull can because I was complaining of low energy for the past week. He’s not great with words. But for my sake, he gives me beautiful cards and fills up the whole space with sweet words. When I’m rushing to pack lunch for my daughter after waking up late, instead of scolding my lateness, he offers to buy her lunch on the way to school. He puts up with my chaos most of the time. The food I make is not always pleasant on the taste buds, but he never complains. He can eat anything I put on his plate and drink all the strange herbal decoctions I make him. Though I do not make any monetary contribution to the family, he doesn’t make any financial decision without my consent. When kids show any disrespect to me, he is quick to correct them, ‘Amma kitta yenna sathum?!!’ When I bring him coffee, he never forgets to ask, “Where is yours?” Dawson does not always meet my more in-depth needs. But through the years, I have learned to notice and appreciate how he expresses his love for me. I celebrate how we have so much in common such as our core values, our parenting goals, our moral outlook. Both of us are deeply spiritual, and our spiritual worldview enlightens all our perspectives. We have the vision to serve God by serving people, and this overrides all our differences, our most significant investments are on people, relationships and young kids. Though the wires in our brain are different, our love for God and our commitment to Him brings us closer to each other and enable us to see the beauty in our flaws.

Our marriage is far from perfect, but we depend on Grace to see past our expectations and appreciate each other for who we are. Happily Married to an amazing man -Cynthia

How does ambiguity cause stress for pastor’s wives?

The idea of working with people, serving those in need, praying with the sick and the confused, sharing the gospel and teaching the depths of Christian living to others always fascinated me. I thought of myself as an all-rounder who will use my giftedness in many ways. However, real church service presents a different picture. 

In church work, the ‘system’ is not straightforward. You don’t get to do the same work every-day. At least the pastor has a preaching routine - he preaches three times a week, teaches at bible study and leads worship. He has a structure to follow, a task to accomplish. But, not so for the pastor’s wife. Sometimes she is expected to support things directly, sometimes indirectly. But whether she’s wanted or not, she needs to show up. 

I am not a person who takes unrealistic expectations on myself in terms of my outward performances as a pastor’s wife. However, it stresses me when I am unable to make conscious choices in my daily work that will bring about divine qualities. Sometimes, it feels like the day drowns in doing mundane things with no specific goals. 

Sometimes, I become an extension of my roles. Instead of asking myself, ‘What is the best way for me to fill this particular role?’ I get stuck inside another world of ambiguity by asking, ‘How should this role be performed?’ or even more, ‘How do they want me to perform this role?’

Dealing with ambiguous feelings – like everybody else, a pastor’s wife like me deals with different emotions. And because I have a mental image of myself on the pedestal, I must try very hard to be honest about myself and my own struggles.

I get impatient, angry, irritated, and like every other wife, sometimes I even hate my husband’s work. However, in other jobs, it is relatively easy to say, ‘I hate this job’ and get back to work, with no qualms. But it is indeed very difficult to say the same (without feeling guilty) when you work in a church.

It is a blessing in many ways when the church and the home are on the same premises. You have a lot of space and you save a lot of time. However, where do work end and home begin? That is ambiguous. Work-life balance is indispensable for everyone. But, in church work, it is tough to draw the line. 

Is my pastor husband, my pastor?  I admire my husband and affirm his calling as the spiritual head of my home. I am often amazed at his wisdom in offering spiritual counsel, his foresight, his determination to stand his ground. However, most times, when it concerns me, he naturally tends to be more of the husband than a pastor. Instead of a lengthy conversation with the wife congregant instilling hope and inspiration, coupled with scripture and prayer– it usually becomes a short, ‘hey! Come on; it will all be fine! God is in control’. 

Frustrations occur everywhere. But it does not negate the joy of serving God through the lives of people he sends our way. I have cried happy tears when I saw answered prayers for people who were not my family. I have had the privilege of seeing the hand of God in deep places of the heart. I have seen faith heroes stand by me and encourage my gifts. I have enjoyed peace and contentment that I cannot explain. Despite the ambiguity, I know that Christ is clear about His purposes and each day I move forward on the path that I am ordained to take. 

-Cynthia