Preacher’s Kid

Jeanye Mercer:

I’ve known Jeanye for almost 40 years.  It’s been quiet some time since we’ve lived close to each other and the last time I physically seen her was in 2003 but she is always on my heart.  Even though our childhood lives were very different, we started out our young adult lives the same, married and trying to figure out exactly what that looked like. We both have learned a lot about life over the last 40 years, we both have grown our personal relationship with God, seen some weaknesses in ourselves, sought healing, love our children and adore our grands.   God has made us more than conquerors.  Romans 8

I’m the preacher’s kid.

I’m 55 years old, and that’s still one of my favorite descriptors. I have the faintest memories of a time before my dad was a preacher, but not many. When I was between 2 and 3 he enrolled in preacher’s school. (That’s the fancy way the church of my upbringing described seminary.) I remember him studying the Old Testament kings and prophets – and all the important begats. And I remember many evenings spent with their new best friends (who eventually became their old best friends) eating goulash and laughing. There was always lots of laughing!

I remember traveling with my family on Sunday mornings so Dad could either preach as a guest – or on the more stressful occasions “try out” for the preaching position. Mom would get Jamye and me up early, tease our hair in French poodle buns complete with clip on barrettes and pack our cinnamon toast and chocolate milk to go. We ate many a roast for lunch on those days at the family’s house whose turn it was to entertain the traveling preacher and his family. Then we would have Sunday night church and drive home late that night. On one of those Sunday nights we stopped at Dairy Queen for burgers, fries and chocolate shakes. Dad managed to back into a pole in the parking lot (he could tell you exactly what car he was driving) and all our shakes spilled into our laps. I’m not sure we were all laughing at that point. However, we’ve laughed many times over the years about that memory.

I remember vividly the night my Dad baptized me. I must have been in 3^rd or 4^th grade because I was wearing the long calico dress Mom had sewn for me to wear when performing with the world famous ukulele ensemble, Pickers and Plunkers. Many years later he would baptize both of my children. He performs all the family weddings and those of friends who are like family. He also blesses those in our circle who have died by speaking the most gracious words of acknowledgment and love to the grieving  friends and family left to honor and celebrate life. Anytime we need important, moving words for an occasion, Dad is our go-to guy.

My favorite memory from my childhood years of Dad’s preaching is such a simple one. Following each service Dad would walk to the back of the auditorium during the closing prayer and greet each member on their way out the door. We called it “shaking them out.” Jamye and I would wait off to the side because we knew our turn was coming. Dad would give us a big grin and a bigger hug and we would lock up and head home until the next time the church doors opened. (Cause you know a preacher’s kid is there every time the doors are open!)

It wasn’t all unicorns and cinnamon toast. Money was often short. Demands on the preacher and his family were often many. Dreams and plans were sometimes destroyed by the relocating that was common among preachers back then. But don’t worry! Every time we were asked to leave, there was a potluck luncheon, a homemade quilt and all 4 verses of Bless Be the Tie that Binds were sung to soften the blow. (Perhaps I have a tiny bit of bitterness hiding out in these memories.)

The gifts of being a preacher’s kid are many. My family and I have friends near and far who love us dearly and hold our memories as treasures. We sing great 4-part harmony – even acapella. We know a bit of Bible trivia – definitely more than the average Jeopardy player. And we are good people to have around during tough times.

There is one gift that easily stands out among the others. It is this: I never doubted my Dad’s love. Ever.  (even when I questioned and eventually left the church of our upbringing). Because of that extraordinary love, and the many years of listening to Dad preach words of grace and mercy to his people, I am able to accept the truth that God the Father loves me unconditionally as well. That’s extraordinary. Life altering. Undeniably central to all that I am or will ever be. And I am grateful. So very grateful.

I’m a preacher’s kid. My Dad’s kid. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.

You can find the art that Jeanye has created @ https://www.facebook.com/JeanyesArt/?pnref=lhc.  Art has been one way that she has been able to dig deep and heal.  Look her up on Facebook and encourage her.  If you find something you love, I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.

Lord, I thank you for bringing people in my life who are going to challenge me.  I thank you for reminding me that we are all fragile, in need of your love.  I ask  you to continue to be with Jeanye and her family.  Wrap your arms around them.   Amen!