True stories from the preacher's daughter, part 3

Imagination. Make-believe. Adventure.

I don't know about the rest of you, but this preacher's kid had plenty of each. My two sisters and I played school, house and church, of course. But what really stretched our make-believe muscles was our association with the senior pastor's three boys. 

We three sisters inhabited the light green parsonage on one side of the brick church building; the three brothers inhabited the yellow parsonage on the flip side. Thankfully, there was a playground in between, a perfect place for brewing up imaginary adventures. And to tell the truth, I think our make-believe had roots in the only TV show all six of us were allowed to watch consistently: Little House on the Prairie. Oddly enough, our imaginings also involved kings, queens, princes and princesses, which were no doubt contrived from the well-loved Chronicles of Narnia book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. (And to think I never realized these coincidences until I started writing this post!)

Anyway, the strange saga we kept returning to was something called The Prairie Family--we lived on the wild frontier, but we played the part of royalty, and somehow this made perfect sense to us. As I was the oldest girl, I was accorded the honor of being "Queen Elizabeth," a name we no doubt nabbed from British royalty. Andy, the oldest, was "King Edward"--the others were princes and princesses. 

Every episode involved a battle, a chase, and a bit of arguing over who got to do what and to save whom. We dodged arrows, hid from warriors, ate imaginary picnics and very possibly slayed the enemy each and every time. All I truly remember for certain is that we were always victorious. There was magic in our make-believe, making us feel as though we were saving the day and conquering the world each time we played. The forces of good and evil were alive and well and good always triumphed in the end.

The story we played out time and again was really a shadow of the truer story we each held in our hearts. In real life, we preachers' kids came to understand that there is light, represented by God, and dark, represented by the devil. That is, there is always a battle going on around us and in us, but if we know God through His Son, we know the final battle will be won. Hands down. Good will save the day. And evil will get what is coming to him. 

We couldn't have verbalized this to you as we slashed and dashed our way through the latest episode of The Prairie family. But our hearts embraced this story. And that is what made our make-believe so thrilling and enchanting.

Three boys, three girls. Inevitably, because each of us were so close in age, there were jokes about all of us marrying one day, which only further advanced our fantasy world. We dreamed of kings and queens marrying, princes and princesses setting up house together while ruling over the world in their spare time.  At very tender ages, we laughed and imagined and wondered at what it meant to be a grownup.

As is wont to happen with a preacher's family, the senior pastor and his wife, known as Pastor Bill and Aunt Gloria to us, felt called to a new church in West Virginia of all places. Being in Michigan, it sounded like it was on the other side of the world to us. And so The Prairie Family disbanded, with fond memories still intact.

I remember our dear friends leaving because my dad arrived at the door of our light green parsonage, and for the first time I can remember, he had tears in his eyes. As the senior pastor moved his family and ministry on, dad felt as though he was losing his best friend. In truth, I think we all cried at least a little.  In those precious years, our families spent countless moments together--I witnessed the death of their dog as we were walking it downtown, we awoke one night to their knock on the door for a medical emergency, and it was Aunt Gloria who prepared me to be a flower girl at a wedding while my mom birthed my youngest sister in the hospital. We shared food and fun, laughter and make-believe.

And, honestly, it was a great comfort to feel normal in the presence of other preachers' kids. All of us have grown up, moved on, and for the most part, lost touch. But it was Pastor Bill who delivered my dad's eulogy at his memorial service two years ago, reflecting on the good times they spent together. And it was Pastor Bill and Aunt Gloria who showed up at my wedding last year, after dad was gone, reminding me of the rich heritage he and mom have given us.

And as for our memories of The Prairie family, we are all older and wiser now, but in my heart the premise holds true. Our stories are not finished--but good will, hands down, overcome evil in the end. And that is the truest story I know. 

Come back for part four...