And now for something completely different...

Hi. I'm Tara.

I am a pastor's wife and stay at home mom to three kids. My husband Doug pastor's a small Alliance church here in northeastern Saskatchewan. Our town is teeny tiny. My son Aiden is 6, my son Owen is 5 and my daughter Olivia turns 2 in 6 weeks. My mom lives in our basement.

My journey to faith has been... well... odd.

I was raised by a pot-smoking, card carrying feminist, hippy single mother... who also happened to be a rebellious pastor's kid. My mom was 32 years old when I came along and she had been trying to have a baby for over 6 years. So although I was a surprise, she was thrilled. I had a good childhood. I was loved.

It was different.

But still good.

I was taught about God. I was also taught about various new age and eastern philosophies.

My grandparents and my Aunt & Uncle were both in ministry (both Alliance pastors) and they prayed for me daily.

God protected me from a whole lot. I was never all that interested in joining the lifestyle of my mom and her friends. I became a Christian, for the first time, when I was four. Apparently I had been playing alone in my room and I came out and informed my mom that Jesus lived in my heart. I have no recollection of this.

My mom would occassionally send me to Sunday School but certainly nothing regularly.

We moved constantly. At LEAST once per year. Different schools, different homes, different friends every few months. My dad was never around. My mom got married when I was nine. Step-dad was a schizophrenic artist. (no, I'm not kidding). Mom got divorced when I was 10.

When I entered junior high we moved to Edmonton. My Uncle was pastoring a church there and I began attending regularly. I think I mostly did it to tick my mom off. I found the Christian subculture exceedingly difficult to break into and understand. At one point I was accused of being drunk at youth group... I wasn't. I didn't drink. In all truth and reality I was just acting dumb which is an ailment most 13 year old girls possess. As a result two girls in youth group were no longer allowed to be my friend. They never spoke to me again.

People, that is messed up.

Anyway, I prayed the prayer of salvation EVERY NIGHT at LEAST 5 or 10 times for about 3 years during junior high. I'm not kidding. I had absolutely ZERO assurance of salvation. It became a mantra of sorts for me. I remember thinking that if I just said it often enough and sincerely enough maybe it would finally work.

When I was 14 my mom had a heart attack. This was a huge turning point in both my life and my mother's. She returned to the faith of her childhood and I found assurance of Salvation. But that period of time was intensely difficult for both of us.

High school was tough.

There were lots of good things- My mom was a secretary for a church and I was deeply involved in the life of the church. I even went on an amazing life changing teen missions trip to Kathmandu, Nepal. Everyone should see real poverty at least once in their lives.

I was also baptized... all I remember from that experience was being terrified of sharing my testimony in front of those thousand people sitting their staring at me.

There were also a whole lot of bad things. In church I had unkind things said to me like "well, we can't expect much from you considering how you have been raised". I am a VERY perceptive person and I KNEW people were treating me differently than the kids who grew up in church. Not that they tried too hard to hide that fact.

At this point I just need to share a small story. During my very first visit to a new church (a HUGE MASSIVE church) I sat with a friend from school. There was a lot about the service I didn't understand and I kept asking my friend questions. I asked who the guy talking was, I asked why there were 15 people on the stage for singing time, I asked all sorts of things which my friend graciously answered for me. After the service we were approached by a lady in her 50's. She said "I want you to know that you two were very rude and disrespectful. I brought a friend to church today and she couldn't concentrate because of you two. You need to learn to behave in church" then she huffed away. I was HORRIFIED that I had been bad at church. That woman successfully made me feel like a misfit on my first day at church.

Don't be like that.

There were other really miserable things in highschool. I managed to find a boyfriend from church who was abusive and told me that it was ok because he knew God better than I did. I believed him and learned to "submit". He ditched me and I felt lost and even more unaccepted in church. When I was with him people had been nice to me. Now I was back to being looked down on. I learned quickly that it didn't matter what people were really like, it only mattered what how they appeared and how able to fake it they were. If you were too honest and too real you weren't accepted. Plain and Simple. I spent my years trying desperately to fit in, to fake it enough to be accepted.

I was intenseley depressed.

Highschool blissfully ended and things rapidly improved! The summer after grade 12 I got a phone call from Capernwray Harbour Bible Centre. They said "Someone has annonymously paid for a full year, room and board and tuition, at our school. Would you like to come?". I jumped at the chance to escape my world!

I spent two incredible years at Capernwray (a different person paid for my full second year). In this time God taught me how to care more about what HE thought than what church thought. He healed many of my heart wounds. The professors actually listened to me and answered my questions.

Capernwray was God's place of healing for me. I still have friends from my time there. It was great because the place was just filled with people who didn't fit in church! I wasn't the only one! It really was an incredible blessing for me. And the best part is that God knew I never could have afforded to go on my own so he paid for me to go! God was totally taking care of me and I have never forgotten that.

After Capernwray I re-entered the world of church sub-culture by attending Canadian Bible College (now Ambrose University). It was tough but an excellent training ground for my present life as a pastor's wife.

I LOVED the classes. I drank up the teaching like I was dying of thirst. I LOVED being able to ask my questions and dialogueing with the professors and other students. It was amazing. And no, I didn't understand everything and I didn't even necessarily agree with everything... but that wasn't the point. God had healed my heart enough during my years at Capernwray so that I was ABLE to learn at CBC.

I met and married my fabulous husband. My husband who was raised in a lovely Christian home and grew up in church and was becoming a pastor. I thought God had gone stark raving mad when he paired the two of us up. But it was exactly what we both needed- two different perspectives coming together to try and make this church thing work.

We have been in church ministry for almost 9 years now. It has been tough for me, learning to navigate church culture as the pastor's wife. I have learned that I am incapable of pretending to be the perfect pastor's wife... plus God doesn't want me to. So I strive for reality. To let people see me as I really am. And boy oh boy do I get in trouble for it.

I seem to regularly tick people off.

When I was struggling through my 3 bouts of post partum depression I was ridiculed for being honest about it (pastor's wives shouldn't struggle), for taking medication (if I really had faith God would be enough), for just generally sucking at life. When my first son was born he was severely colicky and would cry for 10 -12 hours per day (no, I am not exaggerating). I had SEVERE post partum depression. At one point I went to the elder's board to get prayed for. They prayed that I would adjust to motherhood and learn to be a better mother.

I was crushed. The prayers were cruel and judgemental. Even my husband was horrified. I vowed to never get prayed for by an elder's board again, I was so hurt and demoralized.

I have recovered - realizing anew that God loved me and knew my heart even if they didn't.

There have been many ups and downs over the years. Lately people get mad at me for blogging. For being too honest. Apparently it is behaviour unbecoming of a pastor's wife. sigh. And for arguing in favour of women in ministry. And for saying the church should be more involved in the community and in social justice.

Like I said I get in trouble really a lot.

But I carry on with my honesty because people need it. This world needs more honesty. I am blessed daily by the people who read my blog and send me emails and comments. God has called me to be ME. It's all I can do. And I believe I am where God has called me to be.

At one point in my life (before children) I was pretty academic. Actually I was a complete nerd. And I loved it. I pretty much wanted to be in school forever. Aiden was a surprise and so I became a mom instead of getting my masters degree. God knew what He was doing. Being a mom has made me think more practically and learn to communicate to the non-academic members of my life. It has been a good thing.

I still have loads of questions. I wonder constantly how we can make church relevant in our time.

My son Aiden is in the process of being diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder. People have been cruelly judgemental to him and to us. He doesn't behave normally. He gets frustrated easily and lashes out. He feels intense emotion and anger. He has trouble fitting in to our world. He is a wondeful lesson about how differently people are made, about accepting people where they are at. Accepting them and loving them and not trying to push them into a mold simply to make ourselves more comfortable.

We have been gossiped about, judged to be poor parents because of the behaviour of our son.

Don't be like that people.

Now that a real doctor says Aiden has a legitimate reason to act the way he does people have been slightly kinder. Which only proves to me how cruel church can be for the misfits amongst us. The ones who destroy the image of perfection so many strive to uphold. You can only be different if you have a note from the doctor.

And so I carry on, learning to listen to God instead of the cacophony of voices around me.

How's that for an intro? :)