Let’s start at the very beginning…

“Hello, my name is Kylie and I’m a Pastor’s wife”

There, I’ve said it. I wonder if somewhere in the world there exists a support group where ladies will stand up and make such a confession?

Like other maladies for which such groups exist, being a Pastor’s wife is not something you readily volunteer at parties. Nor is it something that young girls aspire to be when they “grow up”.

When my Husband was Ordained back in September 1993, a wonderful, accomplished, intelligent, thoughtful, high powered woman (who also just happened to be married to a Minister) gifted us a Recipe book entitled “A Proper Tea”. In it she had inscribed:

“Ordination creates not only a Pastor but also a Pastor’s wife. Therefore, this gift is for you both: afternoon tea at the vicarage is, after all, one of the essential clerical arts”.

Unbeknownst to this thoughtful lady, I am one of the world’s worst scone-makers.

So this was it. I was sunk.

So how did all this come about? Well, I firmly believe that God has a sense of humour and also a healthy dose of irony. You see, I had spent my University years protesting loudly to anyone who would listen that I was looking for a boyfriend with a “Proper Job”.

As I was studying Music at the time, my choices were somewhat limited in the man-with-decent-earning-capacity stakes so I was rather inspired by the interest of an Arts student – studying Japanese – who I met through the University “Lutheran Student Fellowship”. My Mum was happy; as the young man was even a member of the same church I had grown up in. The relationship was looking promising – to me at least – until I learned that the following year he was headed off to the Adelaide Luther Seminary for – gulp – Pastor training. So that was the end of that… (Shame, as he was good-looking, too!)

Then there was the case of my country cousins. They were studying in the City and boarding at the Seminary. One cousin – a talented Organist – became engaged to a Seminary Student. What a cliché, thought the younger, less tolerant me. The Pastor’s wife chained to the Pipe Organ week after week. They seemed happy and I thought – fine if she’s OK with it, but that is not the life for me.

How wrong this was to prove.

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If you would like me to pen the next instalment of the story, please “Comment”. Thanks!