You Know You Grew Up In A Pastor's Family When...

Let me preface this list by giving a bit of background for those of you who aren't as familiar with my childhood.

My dad is a pastor. A missionary pastor. I lived in Nigeria for the first 6 years of my life. We lived in a cement brick house with cement floors and relied on solar panels for light and our well for water. Television? What's that? I played in the dirt with the native village kids.

After Nigeria, we moved to Indiana, where my dad finished up his seminary program. We were poor. Television? Oh, it existed. In a 12" x 12" box. Excellent!

Following our 2-year stay in Indiana, we moved to the LA area, where my dad started a church and worked primarily with Muslims and Gypsies. If you think Gypsies only exist in the movies, you're wrong. Our church met on Saturday evenings. Since this was a special assignment for my dad, he had to raise his own support. This meant that nearly every Sunday, he traveled around to different churches in the area and throughout the state to preach and talk about his ministry. We got to travel with him every time.

My mom... well she's a missionary too. And a musician. She plays guitar and piano and writes her own songs. Lots of them. So guess what! In addition to being given the opportunity to travel, we were also guilted (I mean given) the opportunity to pursue our musical talents. We were the modern day Von Trapp Family Singers (Sound of Music in case you're lost). People literally called us that. With six people in our family, there were lots of opportunities to harmonize. We even had matching Easter outfits made one year. Laughing yet?

Needless to say, I was often forced against my will to participate in the family ministry. This was how my parents put food on the table, and I certainly wasn't about to give up food. Oh, and about that TV... Well, we finally upgraded from a 12" to a 20" (still no cable), and after a few years of that, we convinced our parents to buckle down and get a 32" AND cable. Glory Hallelujah!

So, now that you have a better understanding of my childhood, it might make my list more enjoyable. You  know you grew up in a pastor's family when:

• You weren't allowed to watch PG-13 movies until you went away to college.
• At least twice a year, one of the family activities involved creating, folding, stuffing, sealing and stamping family ministry newsletters.
• Your mother referenced all-beef hot dogs as being "gourmet."
• You prayed as a family at least 3 times per day. 
• There were communion wafers in the very back of the highest kitchen cupboard, and as a kid, you begged your parents to let you try them.
• Buying clothes was always a nightmare. They were either too short, too tight or too low. Turtlenecks were favored.
• You got to stay late and clean up after all church-related functions.
• You went to church twice most Sundays... sometime three times if you were lucky. 
• You learned to be really good at sleeping with your eyes open.
• "Butt" and "crap" were always unacceptable words.
• When many of your friends found out that you were a PK (pastor's kid), they treated you differently because of your "holy-by-association" privilege (just for the record, I totally don't believe in that).
• Dating? Don't even think about it until you're 15. You can double date then. But you're not allowed to go on a regular date until you're 18. Fortunately (or unfortunately, however you choose to look at it), this was never an issue for me.
• Your family got lots of cards and presents from the congregation at Christmas. This was always a perk. 
• You can recite the Apostle's Creed, Nicene Creed and the Liturgy by heart, and know most of the hymns by heart too.
• Your mom's advice to you is always "just pray about it."
• Neither of your parents have ever had more than one drink at a time. Alcoholic intake is strongly discouraged. 
• You still get to sit through morning devotions out of the "Portals of Prayer" devotion booklet when you visit home.

The list can go on and on, but I think I got my point across. Did you crack a smile while reading this? I found myself laughing out loud a couple times as I reminisced about all of the ridiculous things that I experienced growing up. I hated most of them as they were happening to me, but looking back at my childhood now, I really wouldn't change much of anything. Ok, well maybe the turtlenecks and multiple church services on a Sunday. But this was my childhood. This is my family. These are my memories- the things that make us unique. And I have the utmost respect for both of my parents for what they do.

The family at Rachael's confirmation.