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THE LAST PLACE SHE wanted to be tonight was at a prayer meeting with her husband, and with as hurt and angry as she was, she probably had solid biblical reasoning to stay home. Didn’t Jesus himself say that if your brother had something against you, it was best to go and be reconciled first and then come back to make your offering?
Whoever it was who’d stopped by to find the truant pastor must have heard their arguing. Greg’s arguing, to be more precise, since she hadn’t raised her voice or said hardly anything. What had they gone back and reported to the congregation? Or how many of them had overheard Greg’s yelling as they made their way up the icy walkway to the church? At least the prayer meeting was the most sparsely attended of all the Orchard Grove weekly events.
She had no will to be here, and if you were to take Jesus’ words literally, she had no right to be here either. Not when she was so mad at Greg. Just because he was stressed at work, what made him think it was appropriate to take all his frustrations out on her? Just because the congregants at Orchard Grove were mean, spiteful individuals who gossiped about every petty shortcoming they found in their pastor didn’t mean that her husband had the right to treat her like rosin dust, something unsightly to be removed as soon as practically possible.
She was reasonable enough to admit that even though he should never have blown up like that, Greg was correct. She’d done a terrible job keeping up the house ever since they got married. Apparently, that’s what happens when you grow up in a home with a mother who always hired maids to do the chores.
She wouldn’t take responsibility for her husband’s juvenile temper tantrum, but she could work harder to stay on top of the housework better. Really, there was no excuse for her behavior. She had all day to get things done. Even her time away from home at the Safe Anchorage Gift Shop had been more about distracting herself from thinking about her music lessons than anything else. She hadn’t even left the store with anything to show for the time she wasted there.
It was probably just as well she missed her voice lesson today. After making fun of her warmups, Greg didn’t need another reason to hate her teacher.
The first half of these prayer meetings may as well be rechristened “health updates about every single member of Orchard Grove.” If an outsider who had no idea about Christianity walked into the building on a Tuesday night, they would go away feeling like the only reason to join a church was so that if you had an upcoming doctor’s visit, there would be at least two dozen people around town who knew about it.
Katrina was sitting in her regular place next to Greg, and she tried to keep her expression neutral. The last thing the prayer chain needed was a request for Pastor Greg and Katrina to have more “unity” in their marriage, which was the code word you used for a couple on the brink of divorce or who had already separated.
Time marched by slowly and arduously, like the unending procession of Pomp and Circumstance except in this case there was no majestic finale to look forward to, just the second half of the meeting when everyone took turns telling God what they’d just spent an hour telling each other. Katrina had never been comfortable praying out loud, something that her husband had been arduously trying to change about her since they first arrived in Orchard Grove.
“What kind of message is it sending to people when the pastor’s wife doesn’t even pray at a prayer meeting?”
He’d asked that dozens of times over the past half a year, so much so that she’d stopped bothering to explain to him that she prayed just as much as anyone else in attendance, only silently.
It was Greg who began their time of prayer tonight, which was somewhat unusual, given that he preferred to save his thoughts for the closing.
“Dear God, glorious Lord and Savior, King of the universe and sovereign over all creation, we praise you.”
When he had been nothing but the youth pastor at the large Long Beach congregation, his prayers had been humble and simple, without these flowery preambles. Yet another way Orchard Grove had corrupted him.
Katrina was glad that her eyes were closed so that no one could see the way they rolled. Was she seriously expected to sit here and listen to her husband pretend to be so righteous and godly less than an hour after he told her that he was embarrassed by her?
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what she was expected to do, because she was the first lady of Orchard Grove Bible Church, a role that had at one point sounded so prestigious. Well, if being the pastor’s wife meant she had to not only put up with a monster of a husband but pretend along with him that he was some divinely appointed super saint, she wanted no part of it.
It was bad enough that she lived here in this fishbowl of a community, scrutinized by every opinionated member of the Women’s Missionary League. She was under enough strain to be perfect from the outside. She didn’t need the pressure coming from her own husband as well.
Well, if he was so ashamed of her cleaning abilities, maybe he should try to be the one to keep up all the laundry and the dishes and the tidying. See how well he could manage it. If there was any money to speak of, she would seriously consider flying back to Long Beach. Not necessarily forever, just long enough to fill her soul with those relationships of hers that were actually warm and nonjudgmental. How sad was it that it was her non-Christian friends from the symphony who were far more accepting than her husband and the members of this church?
The biggest problem with returning to Long Beach, aside from the fact that it was financially impossible, was that it would prove her mother right. That alone was enough to dissuade her, but not enough to keep her mind from wondering what it would be like to perform with her friends again. The holiday Pops concert was just in a few more days, and she would miss it because she’d fallen in love with the man who had his heart set on pastoring the most difficult congregation in the Pacific Northwest.
Greg prayed for each and every health request that had been raised earlier, but he still didn’t show any signs of slowing down. Maybe after Grandma Lucy’s closing last Sunday, he felt the need to reclaim the Orchard Grove record for long-windedness.
“God, we confess our shortcomings to you. Forgive us for those times when we bicker and fight instead of showing grace to one another.”
His hand reached over and sought hers out, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Teach us to do a better job loving one another and living in harmony like you want us to. Remind us that love is the greatest gift of all.”
It wasn’t the heartfelt apology she deserved. It certainly wasn’t enough to erase the words her husband had spoken to her, but if previous experience had taught her anything, it was probably all she could expect.