Seasoned

seasoned

This past week was the Student Wives Association (SWA) Back to School Night.  Every year SWA hosts this event a couple of weeks before classes start as a way of informing new and returning wives about upcoming events and activities during the school year.  This was the third year I’ve attended the Back to School Night.  Consequently, very little of the information presented was new to me.  There was the familiar You’re-Going-To-Be-A-Pastor’s-Wife-But-God-Will-Take-Care-Of-You devotion (which was fine to hear again since I didn’t get one of those devotions on vicarage).  There was the welcome from the seminary president’s wife.  There was the informational presentations about relatively unchanging things like the Co-op and SWA committees.  Likewise, there were familiar sights:  the nervous looks of the first-year wives, the calm self-assuredness of the second-year wives, and the happy greetings of the returning fourth-year wives.

As I observed the evening unfold, I realized that I have become a seasoned sem. wife.  I remember being a nervous first-year wife, eagerly listening to all the information because everything was new.  I remember being a self-assured second-year wife, running around with the SWA board to make the evening go smoothly.  Now I am a fourth-year wife who happily greeted the familiar faces of my fellow fourth-year wives after not seeing many of them for over a year.

It would be easy to feel cocky about being a seasoned wife.  I know how things work around campus, I’ve gone through vicarage, and I know that I’m on the home stretch of having my husband complete his seminary education.  However, after three years of going through seminary life, I know what lies ahead.  The ever-looming Call Night takes away much of the smugness.  After all, it’s hard to feel sure of myself when I don’t know where I will be living a year from now or even if there is a call for my husband.  Likewise, I know after this year I will most likely be a pastor’s wife (you know, as long as my husband gets a call, God willing), a thought that has terrified me for so long it’s no wonder that my fourth-year confidence completely dissipates.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yesterday was exactly eight months until Call Night.  Not that I’m counting.

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