Why I let my husband wear wrinkled pants to church.

I love being a pastor's wife. I get the opportunity to play a part in many ministry outlets. Being a pastor's wife can be a lonely ride sometimes and I can get wrapped up in carrying unnecessary burdens. Like the burden of not only the image I am sharing to our church and those we come in contact with but my husbands as well. This week we had the privilege of sharing our ministry at New Life at a Missions Conference. Missions Conferences are incredibly refreshing to my heart and reminds me of the call that has been placed upon each of us as believers. It was great to be reminded of this truth this week. Each day I came home from work just in time to drop my work bags and turn around and head out the door again. Sunday-Tuesday night I had picked out my husbands clothes already, so when I came home Wednesday evening I knew I had to pick him out some clothes so that we could be on our way. David, my husband, welcomed me at the door as he usually does. He was already dressed and he figured he would save me the time and pick out his own clothes. With one of his biggest smiles he held out his arms and said "Did I do good?" I looked him over with his navy stripped shirt and WRINKLED yellow pants! Now are you understanding why I must approve most of his outfits?! I admit that I am not always the kindest, sweetest, slow to speak wife that I wish I was. A hurried "Have you looked at yourself?! Those pants are wrinkled!" would have honestly been the normal response. Those words are damaging and I am sure after several minutes of thinking of a nice way to say "why don't I grab you a different pair of pants to wear" would have worked, but he still would have felt that he didn't "do good" like he asked, because he did do good, his intentions and his heart are what made him "do good". Instead I hesitated and said "Good Job, you look great." While wondering if we had enough time for me toss them in the dryer for a few minutes, because yes I do know the dryer trick where you throw in a wet wash cloth. In that moment of watching the pride on David's face, I took the opportunity to not cut him down. Our husbands don't always need our cutting words and criticism. I have the tendency to react and respond to him this way regretfully. I swallowed my pride for an evening and stood beside my husband proud to have a husband that tries to help me out in anyway he can, even if it means picking out wrinkled pants to wear. So incase you saw my husband last night and wondered "Why would she let him go out in wrinkled pants?" that is why! I can promise that this won't be a usual thing, but what will be usual is my effort to raise my husband up and not tear him down.

P.S. He wasn't preaching this evening either!