THE PREACHER’S WIFE
For the sake of clearness and brevity, I will tell what I know about preachers’ wives in two sections, Oswald. In one will be advice for Mrs. Oswald; in the other, advice for the congregation. I suggest that Emma Alice read the latter part for she has always been addicted to Rule Number Eighteen.
It would be well, Oswald, to announce on your first Sunday in a new place, that your wife is your wife; that she is not employed by the church and that you will not have her overworked; that she must not be asked to do anything, and that people must not expect her to make calls, teach, sing, or take part in the women’s work, since she is not very strong. She may really be as hearty as an ox, but saying the latter will help you to put your point over.
Tell the women that your wife is just recovering from a very serious operation, but neglect to mention the fact that said operation took place two years ago; let them know that she really should not lift heavy furniture or get too fatigued. With great sympathy the kind women of the church will come in and do all the hard work for her. An operation is very useful at times.
It might be well to let them know that where you last lived some one always came in and took care of the children for a few hours each afternoon, giving your wife time for a good rest. Complain bitterly if this idea is not immediately carried out.
The I-have-seen-better-days attitude is sometimes used to an advantage by some preachers* wives. This consists of touching references to “when I was a child at home.” “We had private teachers; we had an enormous house; we had colored servants; I was the only child and had everything I wanted; I had so many lovely clothes; we had our own stables. Our family is one of the fine old Southern families.” The people of the church will begin to properly appreciate you and your sacrifice in giving up so much to serve them.
Then, too, you must be high-hat with people, Mrs. Oswald. Never allow them to undervalue you. And above all achieve and maintain a position as dictator of all the activities and policies of the women of your congregation. Be the final court of appeals and the supreme judge. Let them know that you know just how things should be done and that you mean to have your way.
The Ladies' Aid will enjoy his artistic efforts
If you are a musician, take over the piano or the organ at once. Do not allow anyone else to touch it. Sing all the solos and the solo parts yourself. It might be well to lead the choir. Be the assistant pastor. The pastor’s wife in every church holds a unique position of trust and authority by virtue of her office; you can presume on this power that is yours, Mrs. Oswald, and use it in various ways to dominate and manipulate the affairs of the church.
Church work is so much more important than house work that you can pay scant attention to the latter. People must not expect too much of you. You can excuse yourself by telling people prettily that you are a Mary and not a Martha; that your church comes first in your life and that since your husband’s salary is not sufficiently elastic to cover the expense of a maid, you just have to let the house work go. Some of the ladies may come in and help you clean occasionally. If people must run in at all hours they can just expect to find the house all upset. You hate housekeeping anyway.
A few cases are recorded of able and consecrated men who never stay on any field for any length of time because of sloppy and slatternly wives. These poor, bewildered ministers wonder why they always seem to be misfits when they try so hard to please and are sincere preachers of the Word. The real reason is the condition of the home and the attitude of the wife. More preachers have been ruined by misfit wives than have been ruined by sin and the devil. On the other hand, preachers have been made by women who staunchly and prayerfully and adequately carry on their tasks; encouraging, inspiring, leading, and praising. These wives realize that clean minds require clean and sweet surroundings, and so they do their part, making much of little in the house; seeing that the children are well fed and rosy and fresh and crisp, and that the ways of the household are well ordered; finding time somehow to do it all cheerfully and well.
Dress well; dress beyond your husband’s means. Charge things. A certain standard of living must be maintained. He can’t expect you to look a frump just because he is a preacher. If the people would support the church properly you could pay your bills. Tell them so. Anyhow if you can’t pay the bills the church can. Or let your husband figure out some way to pay them. You just have to have something decent to wear.
One way to be popular with your church, Mrs. Oswald, is to permit little Oswald Junior to whittle on the woodwork and floors of the parsonage, and to draw crayon pictures on the walls. The Ladies’ Aid will enjoy the little darling’s efforts to express his artistic yearnings, I am sure.
Let your own children run loose. While you attend church meetings they can stay with your neighbors who will be glad to wipe their noses, tie their shoes, and give them bread and butter. Never see the faults of your own children, but criticize the manners and the conduct of the children of other people. Talk about them for doing the very things your children do. Resent any friendly little reproof given your child by some member of your congregation whose only motive is the child’s well-being.
Do not forget that you are only a member of the church like anyone else. Stay at home just like other people when you feel so inclined. Do not attend prayer meeting or any other service unless you feel like going. Other members stay away—why not you? They should not expect any more from the preacher’s wife than they do from other members of the congregation. You might even attend some other church of your denomination in your town, (a bigger one than the one where your husband preaches) and, of course, one with a pastor who can preach better than he. In this manner you can escape some of the duties and obligations that will fall upon you in your husband’s church. Some preachers’ wives do. But really, Mrs. Oswald, this course of action will seem to mean that you are ashamed of your husband, and will be a great handicap to him. There are those to be sure who might think that it would be a greater handicap to have you present. But that is a moot question.
Some preachers’ wives go in for society; you might try this — if you can break in. Cultivate the smart set in your town with the attitude that there are so many common people in your church and that you are so far above them. Your people will love this.
Be a helpful little wife. Criticize your husband’s sermons and his manners. Do not wait to do this privately. Tell him before people so they will know that he wouldn’t amount to a thing if you were not constantly at him. Select a few of his little weaknesses and make fun of them slyly to other people. This is very effective.
Tell everyone that you married your husband, not because he was a preacher, but in spite of his being one. Or this one will do: “I didn’t know he’d ever preach when I married him,” with the inference that getting into the ministry is a sort of a disgrace, like getting into jail —or politics. Or you can sing a little song like this: “I want to live on a farm; I want to live on a farm; I want to live on a farm.”
Thus will your husband be successful and happy.
And lastly, Mrs. Oswald, permit me to say that the time will come as inevitably as the watermelon season or wash-day, when someone will knock at the back door, the front door bell will ring, the dinner will boil over, and the telephone will scream—all at once. You can either yell “No” at the back door, “Wait” at the front door, “Hello” at the telephone, turn the burner out under the dinner or just kneel in prayer. The world could ease his feelings with a good hearty “damn,” but, Mrs. Oswald, such explosions are not for you. You must rise to the occasion graciously as befitting one not made of common clay. You may find a way to do it.
Posted in CHAPTER TEN
You may try to persuade yourself that this is an ordinary book — in order that you may find comfort in the persuasion - but you cannot do so and be fair to facts.