May Be

May be upon us.

May… be here so soon?!

May be meaning it’s almost a year since our cohort moved.

A year?!

A year.

What’s in a year?

Well… Shock, exhaustion, diabetes and childbirth, to name but a few!

Identity crises, loneliness, and Mummy guilt, to name some more. One experience, weakness, bug, then another, passing constantly back and forth.

An entire year of feeling not quite with it; always wondering … where has the time gone?! And whilst it might just be me still finding my feet; somehow, I suspect not.

So all of you curacy spouses still flailing a bit; distracted, disengaged and unsure. Still wondering if and where you fit into it all… I guarantee that you’re not alone.

See, I love our “new” home, our church and its folk; practically, I’m as “settled” as could be. I guess the unsettledness lies a little under the surface; it’s a heart and soul issue for me.

See, we always said that we were called together; that ministry was a family affair. But whilst Husband is poured out in all sorts of spheres; currently, I’m just not there. I am limited in most of the ways I could serve; in conversations, I have one eye on the kids. When I do attend anything, my mind wanders off; I’m not sure I can be bothered with this.

I used to be known as a “prayer warrior”, and here is the best place for that. I signed up to everything, hoping to catch it… but actually… do you know what?

Though my wall is covered in prompts and posters; I’ve been to training and get updates galore… last week as I sat down to have a crack, I found an uncomfortable truth I could not ignore. For weeks I’d been trying to intercede for “our town” with the same vigour I have in the past; to pray blood, sweat and tears, like I do for my friends, and other causes to which I’m attached. I want to, I do, but it’s all still so distant and new, that I was confronted right then and there; with the horrible truth that no matter my views… deep down… I just don’t care.


This is not the place that I was born; nor Husband; nor where we met. I have no personal connection to this town so many love; my heart just isn’t in it yet. And whilst I want to fall in and catch the wave, I realised something else; that even deeper down, actually, I’m holding back. This is so temporary, I’m protecting myself.

I mean…

If a year has already passed so fast, then that leaves only one or two more. It’s set out, definite, an end is in sight; exactly like before. So get involved, Wife, but half-heartedly... You know you’ll only have to leave again. And if it hurt so much last time, why invest this time? Why volunteer for the pain?!


Maybe because we’re called to love, no matter where on earth.

Maybe because we’re called to love- sacrificially- until it hurts.

Maybe because I’ve finally realised, I cannot love like that in my own strength.

Because maybe prayer changes our hearts first; allowing God to cause them to affect.

See, prayer is the only way I can serve right now; but when done properly, it cuts to the core. For prayer is not a shopping list, campaign or candle wish…. it’s giving your heart an open door to God.

So maybe I’m sat here at the start of May,

Praying prayer’s most dangerous words.

Praying for the ouch, that before this first year’s out,

You might “break my heart for what breaks Yours.”

2 Comments Add yours

  1. This is lovely; really properly earthed and honest. There’s a bit in The Screwtape Letters around prayer and the manufacturing of feelings which resonates with this – I’ll try and track it down …


    1. Thank you 🙂 Ah, great, been meaning read that for years!


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