I remember the day like it was yesterday. We were in my husband’s car–his sexy black car. (I mention this because now my husband drives my old Ford Taurus. It’s red. And it’s a Taurus.) But I digress.
We were in my husband’s sexy black car and we were driving north on Holly toward our home. This is how clearly I recall this day. My husband, God bless his heart, was talking about church–one of his top 3 favorite topics for car rides.
I was engaging in the conversation, listening, hemming, hawing, adding my two cents when all of the sudden he said this:
“So then I thought that maybe someday I’d like to plant a church.”
He paused. I paused. Time stood still. He glanced sideways at me … “What would you say to that?”
I paused some more. Cleared my throat, turned to look him square in the eye (as much as one can look a driver square in the eye) and said quite clearly:
“Do you want to get a divorce?”
That was maybe two years ago. After that response, he dropped the topic for a long time. I mean really, what did he expect? I’d literally just gotten used to the whole pastor’s wife idea. Now I was supposed to just jump for joy at the thought of being a lead pastor’s wife, not to mention a church-planter’s wife?! This was just too much for me to bear.
So now picture this: my water has broken. I’m wrapping up emails. It’s April 21, 2010. My firstborn child is on his way. My husband comes home. He happened to have his review that afternoon, and wants to talk about it a little. I’m fine with that–I mean, I’ve got nothing else to do since contractions hadn’t started. So he starts to tell me about his meeting with Steve. Then he tells me that Steve brought up church planting–in reference to Erik planting a church, just to be clear–no less than 3 times during their meeting. 3 times. On April 21st. With my water breaking. He’s talking about church planting again, while I’m leaking water. With a baby on the way.
You can imagine my response.
I stared pointedly at him, gestured at my belly and said:
“Pretty sure last time I threatened divorce. Perhaps now is not the best time to bring it up again.”
It has been 8 weeks since that day. 8 weeks of incredible life change. 8 weeks of ups and downs and very little sleep. And what thought has been there consistently? What image can I not get out of my mind? What idea is growing slyly in the recesses of my sub consciousness?
It comes up often, it comes up clearly and it’s ME bringing it up. Me. The one who wanted to marry a businessman/teacher/sports broadcaster, or a man with a vague career in the field of social work, communications, or higher education.
Notice how Rock Star turned Worship Guy turned Youth Pastor turn Church Planter is not part of that list.
Funny, isn’t it?