The PK Life, yo

It's Easter. Another holiday, the most important one on the Christian calendar, in my opinion. I spent Saturday and Sunday at my brother's house this year with the rest of my family, and I couldn't help but ruminate (yes, ruminate) on how different holidays are in my family than they were when I was growing up. Yes, I know, duh, because I'm like an adult (psh) and there are Littles running all over and all that, but I grew up a pastor's kid*, or PK. (*May also be referred to as TO, or Theologian's Offspring.)

My dad decided to become a pastor when I was in Kindergarten, and we moved that summer from upstate New York to Iowa. I was too little at the time to realize exactly what that meant. The most important thing to me was that we took a train to get to Iowa. Of course, that dream died as we piled into our two car caravan and headed west. It was kinda like the Oregon Trail. No, really, it was. Anyway, so suddenly life was very different. I grew up not getting to take trips for weekends, or be anywhere else for holidays. My dad was gone almost every evening at one meeting or another.

That's not the point though. The point is the as a PK, you are on the inside track of everything. My dad's first church was a tiny country church, and I had the run of that place. We would play hide and seek or "Indian princesses" in the cemetary, run up and down the aisles in the sanctuary, and make prank calls from my dad's office (sorry, Dad! He doesn't read this anyway...). After communion on Sundays, I would slip down to the kitchen and pilfer the remaining bread and grape juice. Sometimes I would share. I always felt like hot stuff. Everyone knew who I was. That was awesome when I was younger. Not so much when I got to be older, and felt slightly like I was under a microscope.

Holidays were always interesting. I was reminded of this at my church's Good Friday service. Two of the readers were the pastor's wife and oldest son. I remember being roped into doing readings for holidays. Not only readings, but any time special music was needed, I was up to sing, even if I had little warning. Easter morning when I was growing up I wouldn't see my dad until well after the service was over. He was up early and off to his office to do last minute tweaking/practicing.

This morning I got up and my dad was one of the first to wish me a Happy Easter. He gave me a hug, kissed my head, and told me he loved me. Even at 27, those things mean a lot. I know that my dad has touched many people with his preaching. He is amazing. But I'm glad he has moved out of that capacity. I like that my parents can come visit on weekends, and that we can spend holidays doing whatever and know that my dad will be with us every step of the way.

I am a PK for life, and I know that it has helped to make me who I am, but I'm glad for the stage of life my family is in now. Our time in ministry brought us closer together, but being out of ministry has added to that closeness tenfold. My family rocks :)

(PS - So sorry for the last blog entry...I remember thinking it was absolutely hilarious...until the cold meds wore off...)