Friday, August 31, 2018

Large Family Idiosyncrasies #11: When Your Dad is a Pastor...

This post could really be titled "Pastor Family Idiosyncrasies", since these quirks are more due to the "pastor-ness" than the largeness of our family. Just like large families understand one another, those in ministry will recognize the logic behind these stories and rules.

First, of course, is the Murphy's Law of pastoral life: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong ON A SUNDAY MORNING!

We are quite accustomed to losing shoes, discovering that stains have magically appeared on white dress shirts, and attitude meltdowns any time we need to get to church, but we do have a few rules to cope:

1. No blood on Sundays! (Or broken bones).

This rule has been spectacularly broken a few times, usually by the boys in the family. Who thought it was a good idea to run across a concrete surface in cowboy boots? At church, of course. Everyone standing around actually FELT the vibration as his forehead hit the floor. Amazingly, only a goose-egg resulted, no stitches. Another time, however, one of the little boys fell (or was accidentally pushed) out of the van onto gravel on Sunday night. That required a trip to the emergency room.

2. The Two-Cookie Rule.

Our church has a time of fellowship after the service, when cookies and coffee are served. Since there are so many of us, and we are supposed to set a good example for the other children, we were strictly limited to two cookies. I suspect Mom also doesn't want too much sugar running through our veins when we get home! Everyone at church knows our family rule, but one clever child found a way to circumvent it: he asked a well-meaning adult to get him his two cookies, as he was only two or three at the time. Perfectly reasonable. However, when one of his "helpers" came to Mom to let her know that he had gotten Max (errhm...one of her children) his two cookies, the racket was exposed!! You see, Mom had also given the child two cookies. As we investigated further, it transpired that both of our Grandpas had also been sources of supply, bringing his total for the day up to eight cookies, NOT two. The other siblings were rather envious of his brilliance, but the parents quickly put a stop to the scheme.

Another time, the rule was broken in spirit, though not letter. One dear lady brought "Monster Cookies" to serve at outreach, each the size of a small plate. An application of logic would have dictated that we restrict ourselves to just one cookie, since they were so enormous, but we took gleeful advantage of the situation instead, and grossly exceeded our sugar intake for the day! By the time Mom figured out what had happened, we were safe with our two cookies, taking a bite out of each for good measure, so they could not be returned.
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Growing up in ministry affected more than just our rules, however. Kids like to play games that reflect their lives, and we invented three:

1. Let's play...Baptism!

This is a great summer game, requiring just two people and a pool or other water source. Generally, you take turns being baptizer and baptizee, but if many children are playing, you can switch to the "revival" variant, in which a single baptizer dunks as many baptizees as possible in a short space of time. Words are very important in the game. The only required line is "I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit", but additions such as "Hallelujah!" or "Glory!" are encouraged. Care must be taken to avoid sliding into heretical strains of this game, such as dumping a bucket of water on the child's head, or sprinkling (horrors!) with the hose. FULL IMMERSION is the only version of this game we endorse. And of course, we were never allowed to baptize infants...though this was perhaps prompted more by concern for the baby's wellbeing than theological considerations.

2. Let's play...Wedding!

We've gone to a lot of wedding ceremonies over the years. We are always interested to see what each couple does differently, and we often acted out our own weddings at home. This game requires three people, but it is better played with four or more:

Pastor: generally my oldest brother Andrew was the officiating pastor. Not only was it good practice for his future, since he had already decided on a pastoral career, but he was a man.

Groom: since Andrew was already playing the pastor, this created a conundrum for the role of groom, since Maxwell was too young for such an important part. I was accustomed to take the second male lead in our other adventures (like when we were playing Narnia), so I stepped manfully (or...not...) into the gap. In our minds, we could NOT have a female pastor, but a female groom was no problem? No idea how we came to that conclusion. You can see that this game is much less theologically consistent than Baptism.

Bride: Margaret or Rebekah would take turns, or one of them would be the groom while I was the bride. Sometimes one of us would play the Father of the Bride, (providing opportunities for more lines: "Who gives this woman"...etc.) but sometimes the Bride would walk down the aisle alone.

More important than the part of Father of the Bride was Bridesmaid, however. (This is why we preferred to play with more than three people.) We modified the role quite a bit. Rather than waiting in the front, the Bridesmaid would come behind the Bride and hold up her train (a quilt or sheet tied around the waist.) I think this innovation was due to some crossover confusion with the customs of medieval royalty?

3. Let's play...Funeral!

This was really our favorite of the three. I think we invented it after our family had fallen victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is, of course, to never start a land war in Asia. Slightly less well known is to never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line. Very obscure in comparison is this: Never go on vacation as a Pastor family, or someone at your church will die! (And  then your vacation will be cut off, because Dad will have to get back home to plan and preach the funeral.)

Funeral as a game, however, is very simple and entertaining. Three people are needed, and a blanket.

The Pastor: holds a book (can be a Bible, but is not necessary), and says "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." This must be said as sadly and solemnly as possible.

Dead Person: lies on the floor, cannot smile or move unless seriously provoked, such as being elbowed in the stomach. Variation: can come back to life after mourning begins, causing a great sensation!!

Chief Mourner: Draws the blanket up to cover the dead person's face after the pastor finishes his speech, wails and generally carries on. Supposed to act shocked if the dead person comes back to life. Laughing at any point is seriously frowned upon. If more than three people are playing, everyone else is also a mourner.

This game can be played in rounds for a long time, just switching who plays Pastor/Dead Person/Chief Mourner. Competition for most solemn pastor, stillest dead person, and loudest Mourner is encouraged.
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Being PKs ("Pastor's Kids") may have given us some slightly odd ideas of fun (I have to admit that the funeral game is a little inappropriate!), but for the most part it was just life. Yes, we were always at church, in fact there was a high probability of being accidentally left there when the family drove home. However, we knew that church like the back of our hand, and could probably have survived until the next service anyway, eating communion crackers and juice, and sleeping on the pews, which we were used to sleeping on quite often in any case. Besides, the library offered plenty of reading material.

As a kid, being in a pastor's family is like a fish being wet. Most of the time, we didn't even realize how different our lives were than some people's. Personally, I loved growing up as a PK, and it has shaped my adult understanding of Christianity and the Church in many ways, but positively for the most part!