Beaches is a 1988 American comedy-drama film starring Bette Midler and Barbara Hershey. It tells the story of two women, C.C. Bloom and Hillary Whitney, who meet as children and become lifelong friends despite their very different personalities and lifestyles. For me, it is the ultimate “chick flick.” But more importantly, the film’s beautiful song sung by Midler at her friends passing is the ultimate pastor wife's anthem. Its title “You are the Wind Beneath my Wings” and first line “It must have been cold there in my shadow, a beautiful face without a name…” says everything.
My wife Sharon of 60 years has been the love of my life, my best friend, my partner in marriage, the mother of my children, a wonderful Nana to both our grands and our great grands. She has also been my partner in ministry and is a clergy spouse. Often introduced as “The Rector’s wife,” she is her own person and made major contributions to every church and ministry I have served. After our children reached school age, she began working full time. It helped our meager income. When I served a church in Westerville, Ohio, she became the Executive Secretary of the Chamber of Commerce. It was at their social gatherings that I was regularly introduced as “Sharon’s husband.” I got it. It was a painful realization.
Sharon has always had a gift of being able to lift me up when I became discouraged or down. She also had a good way of leveling me off if I got too big headed. Her gift was knowing when to do each. When I was a student in college, I was elected for the first time to be a convention delegate to the Diocese of Dallas. I went with my Rector who I admired and three professors from my college. I had taken classes from all three and respected them. When the convention ended early, they decided to go to lunch and invited this 19-year-old to attend. I bowed out. I wanted to go but felt out of place. Later at home, I told her what happened. She saw my sadness. Setting next to me, she reached over, took me by the chin, looked right into my eyes and said, “I don’t ever want to hear the man I love put yourself down again. Do you understand me? You are as good as any man!” Then she kissed me. It was a life changing moment for me.
She is a redhead. I read a study once that said redheads are hypersensitive people. Their smell, hearing, and touch are more intense than the rest of us. I believe it. I have seen her hair almost glow when she gets angry. At 4’11” she stands, looks up at me, points her finger and speaks. I’ve learned to keep quiet. It is not my turn to speak. At a women’s gathering in our church in Ohio, they once for fun took a survey on “The Sensual Woman.” The ladies were stunned to find out she outscored all of them. “I aced it,” she told me. “I’ll bet!” I added.
In my last full-time work as Dean of St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas, she saved the resale shop. Its purpose had been to raise money to help run the Cathedral. She transformed it into a ministry. She had great retail instincts. She also knew her market. It was among our Spanish speaking members and their friends. She would take the Nordstrum dresses from donors and sell them from $2 to $5 dollars. The place got packed every Saturday. “You charge them?” I sternly asked her once. She got that your clueless look and responded, “Do you not know what it means to ladies to buy such clothes at such bargain prices?” Then she cut off any further suggestions from me with, “They’re not looking for charity, you know. They are our members!” I wish my elitist denomination understood her wisdom. You do not gain members by giving people charity. You win their hearts by welcoming them as equal members of the family.
I am thankful that we are Episcopalians for her sake. We have always had a lot of professional women and then woke up and allowed women to even be ordained. That has made a clergy spouse freer from the restraints of a piety that is often forced upon the pastor’s spouse. It’s worse in the groups that have descended from Wesleyans, “keep them poor, keep them humble” culture. This is still true of the evangelical brand or the Pentecostal variety. Today in a Pentecostal church, the pastor’s wife is often one the only women still not wearing makeup or a new dress. Check out the old movie “One Foot in Heaven” that portrays the life and career of a Methodist pastor and the restrains forced upon his wife and children. It is classic American church culture of the 50s. Alas, it is still alive in churches today.
This last Christmas was the first time that I decorated our tree by myself. My wife would contend that sitting in your recliner and watching re-runs was supervision. We have collected many ornaments over 60 years. While her short-term memory is sometimes lacking, she remembers everyone; when we got it, and who gave it if it was a gift. The second day, it was late, and I was tired. I finally said to her, “I think that this year we could just do with half of these.” She snapped back, “I love all of them.” Then I added hopefully, “Maybe we could give some of them away to Goodwill.” She gave me that your clueless look again and said, “Over my dead body.” I then mumbled, “That could be arranged.” Her hair began to glow, and her stare penetrated the space between me. Then she gave me a non-verbal response that was so incongruent with her petite size and usual kind manner that I almost fell out of my chair laughing. Now came, “Why are you laughing at me?” Then even she laughed.
She is the wind beneath my wings.
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