Same old, same old

You know what I hate? Besides raw tomatoes?

I hate people deciding who I am based on my marriage alone. I married a man 17 years ago who is now a pastor of a church. And somehow, that gives people all the information they need to decide who I am.

That's why it's not listed in my profile on this blog. The fact that I am married to a pastor has hardly anything to do with who I am as a person. People see "pastors's wife" and they stand back, gape, cover their mouths, share private jokes, judge, snicker and come to a swift conclusion. They conclude that I am completely unlike them, that I must pray in tongues while I dance through the house doing my housework, that I spend hours teaching the children memory verses and that I am standing with my hands on my hips judging them because I think I am Perfect. It's really no wonder that it's so difficult to find a New Best Friend when you are known as The Pastor's Wife.

People who have different standards for me based on my spouse's profession are misguided. They are the worst kind of people--unthoughtful people. And by that, I don't mean people who are unkind or ungenerous, but people who just don't think, who wouldn't recognize a thoughtful moment if it pinched them under the arm in that really sensitive spot. Unthoughtful people cannot engage in thinking conversation, because they are missing whatever essential component that thoughtful people have in their souls. So, if you ever offer a thought-provoking comment to an unthoughtful person, you will see that person go completely haywire with screaming alarms and blinking lights and flailing limbs. And then they will call you a hypocrite or worse. The point of your thought-provoking comment will inevitably be missed in the hoopla of their crazy response and then suddenly, you are on the defense, wondering why.

Frankly, unthoughtful people wear me out and on bad days, they make me question humanity. On really bad days, they make me think I was right--people are horrible and not to be trusted and why did I ever think otherwise? Why bother?

People who don't think live in some foreign land without a map. I can't even find the entrance to the housing development where those kind of people live, let alone get close to them and understand them. When I encounter those kind of glib, mean, stone-souled people, I smile and walk on. No, I run.

But I'm a "pastor's wife," so I don't give them the "You're Number One" salute, even though that's pretty much all they understand, because it doesn't take much thought to flip someone off.

My name is Mel. My name is not Mrs. Pastor's Wife. My faith is a skeleton, the framework of my life, not my hair. I don't restyle it each day in accordance with how much gel or time I have or change it in light of prevailing trends. My faith holds me up, gives me strength, keeps my chin from puddling into my toenails.

I don't talk about my skeleton as much as I talk about my hair--and when I say "hair", I'm not talking about my actual wild curls, but rather, the part of life that is visible to the naked eye, the outside stuff--but that doesn't mean my hair is more important than the bones that give me structure. My skeleton just is, and when people start judging me according to my hair, thinking they know everything about me, thinking they are in a position to judge how consistent I am--well, it makes me kind of testy.

Being judged and misunderstood pisses me off. Can a pastor's wife say that? I'll have to check my manual and get back to you.

In the meantime, putting these words here keep those words from swimming around in my already crowded head, so I feel a little better. So, no need to call the ambulance. I'll be staying here, taking care of kids for a few more years, at least.

And now, I have to go make lunch.