Fried chicken has to be made just right.  One needs to have the right pieces of chicken.  Then comes the process of coating this right piece of chicken.  Then into the oil it goes, cover on and soon you have succulent, crispy fried chicken.

 

 

Chicken and dumplings on the other hand is a slow process.  A bunch of chicken pieces, some veggies, some broth, some seasonings and then you just let it sit and simmer.  The end is the hardest part – leaving that lid on for the first 10 minutes of cooking the dumplings. But the long wait gives way to tender, fall off the bone chicken, broth to make gravy if you wish and those puffy white salt and peppered dumplings.

 

 

So what is this culinary experience about?

Both dishes are chicken.  Both dishes delicious. Both are dishes.  

 

But they are so very different from each other.

 

That was me as a Pastor’s wife.  I desperately wanted to make fried chicken.  (please read this as figurative and LITERAL.  I literally CANNOT make fried chicken – no matter how hard I try!) I wanted to be the “submissive”, piano playing, Sunday School teacher, helpmate type of wife.  I wanted to be soft and encouraging.  I wanted to be supportive to my husband’s ministry.

 

But try as I might – I was never going to be able to play the piano. Even after 9 years of lessons – just ask my college roommate and my college piano teacher! Try as I might – I was not soft and encouraging. I didn’t have a clue how to teach Sunday School. Submissive was a word I had been taught to understand as being mildly abused.  

 

 

Who was I?  I was a singer. I was a speaker.  I was a performer. I was a leader. I had little fear of the unknown (right? I married a Pastor!). I was an oddity ….

 

Guess what though – over time, with much encouragement from my husband and others – I learned that Chicken and Dumplings has a place as a Pastor’s Wife as well. This passage of time was painful for many, not the least of which was me.  Many angry words, buckets of tears and hours of shaking my fist at God did not allow me to escape being a Pastor’s Wife. I needed to learn to embrace my difference, to allow myself room to bring my gifts to the table, and then allow God to work out the in between.  

 

Many times I wanted to quit. Many time I said “I quit”. Many time I did quit.

 

But – I woke up the next morning and started again.  

 

Did I grow through that pain? Yes. Did others? I have no idea – and really it doesn’t matter.  That is between God and them.  All I know is that rather than seeing Chicken and Dumplings as second rate chicken and as chicken that pales in comparison to Fried Chicken, I learned that it is, after all – all chicken.  

 

 

And I am , after all, a Pastor’s Wife.
So  – up next….

 

 

 Do I like being a Pastor’s Wife?