Between Call Day and the call

There are a few awful (and wholly unnecessary) weeks between Call Day (the day seminary students learn where their first pastoral job will be) and graduation day.

And yes, the seminary students go to their regularly scheduled classes every day in between. Even on Call Day.

Like, come on now.

Everyone buzzes around campus and floods each other's phones with congratulations and inquiries about their call. Seminary students are on Zillow more often than they are paying attention to their remaining weeks of classes, and some professors even give in to this phenomenon and admit defeat.

Then, there's a silence. A tense, awful silence. Once all your closest friends, family, and strangers on social media know where the call is, there isn't much to do but scout for living arrangements (which can take up way more of your time than you'd admit) and keep moving through daily rhythms. Somehow, the world keeps spinning for everyone else, your non-seminary coworkers are utterly unfazed, and the well-wishing dies down.

The countdown begins.

There's roughly a month to get through.

There are admittedly a few massive things to do, but not much else.

There's the frantic Zillow hunting or apartment scouting. There are trips to said houses and apartments. For many, there is the horrifying adventure of buying a first house or first dual-income apartment in a strange new place.

There's packing, once a residence has been settled on. But how early can you really start packing? I packed and subsequently dug out items from many, many boxes during the four weeks between my husband's Call Day and graduation. You pack away the soup bowls, but then a cold front moves through and all you want in the world is hot chili with cheddar cheese on top. You set aside the tank tops and shorts, only for a heat wave to bring your sweating body back to that box for clothes.

You spend more time than you'd like to admit looking up all you can find out about your new home on the internet. For some, there's a lot of information to sort through, and for others, there's a population number and a 90s chamber of commerce page.

But then what?

Suddenly, a month is a very long time. You might not move for months after graduation, and the wait time increases.

When we were in this phase, I was very pregnant (10/10 do not recommend), trying to pack, and rounding out a school year with my preschool class. I had one foot in our new home and one foot in our current life.

Okay, more like 90% of my body the future home and just my pinky toes in the present.

I found it incredibly difficult not to wish the days away, whether out of nerves or excitement. What was the point of anything anymore?

Honestly, I'm not sure why there is such a gap and why those poor professors have to keep teaching classes as if nothing life-altering has occurred. But it's a thing.

Now that I've been on the other side of pastor's-wife-ing for a while, I wish I could go back and tell myself one thing:

slow down and breathe it in.

I know, I kind of hate me for saying it, too. Gag.

This is the last time your husband will be bound by a predictable school schedule. This is the last time he'll be free on Sundays to sit in the pew with you. This is the last time his mental load will be bogged down with Greek studies, not someone's whispered confession that he's sworn not to repeat. Take a minute and appreciate that. Hold on to it.

This is the last time you'll be in your seminary city, most likely.

Go out for pasta on the Hill in St. Louis one more time. Walk down from the seminary to Clementine's and order a chocolate cabernet scoop for me.

Go out for drinks at Dana's in Fort Wayne. Try the tallow'd fashioned.

Take a walk through Forest Park. Once you leave, you'll be amazed at how huge that place is. And every other zoo, theatre, and conservatory is going to make you pay through the nose, so enjoy those free trips now.

Go to the Fort Wayne Farmer's Market and snag some fresh produce and Kanela coffee one last time (or if you're really feeling frisky, get a coffee cocktail at Penny Drip).

Do whatever it is you love about this place you're in, because although you're so keen to leave it now, in a year or two you'll realize you miss it in a strange sentimental way. I promise, there will be something you look back and appreciate. Don't kick yourself because you wasted your last time there. Live this last springtime to the fullest.

Go to a few on-campus events (I know, this is a strange departure from tradition for me, but bear with me), even just to see people for the last time. The next time you see some of these people, they might be speaking at a pastor's conference or visiting for a teaching convention.

Or you may never see them again.

Even if you hated almost everyone on campus (guilty), just go and experience it with a light heart. Feel the chapter closing and drive/walk home knowing you closed it well and intentionally.

This is one of the rare times in life when you know a major transition is about to happen and just get to watch it come and live it as it happens.

The next time your husband gets a call, it will probably blindside you. You certainly won't get to sit and watch it come for a month like you are now. The next time your husband gets a call, you'll wrestle with the feelings of leaving a current call. This time, you're free from grief or guilt or entanglements with your current congregation.

You're about to start the real-life stuff.

For many of you, this will be the first time your husband is not a full-time student since he was 4/5 years old. Woah.

Your real-life-working-adults time is coming, with a very exact start date, so why not enjoy these last weeks as semi-carefree students?

Take a breath. Make a list of your must-revisit places.

And then go, with 90% of your attention in the present (because I know the other 10% is impossible to shake).

Then you'll join me as "the pastor's wife".

Love,

The Pastor's Wife