Like I mentioned earlier in my introduction, there are many assumptions about the life of a PK. Usually, if I even dare mention in the presence of new friends that my father is a preacher, I’m flooded with the same questions I’ve been asked my whole life. However, over the years I’ve come to not mind mentioning my father’s occupation as much because I’ve become such a pro at answering these questions. So bring it on!
The usual questions are:
“How is your dad married? I thought priests had to be like married to the church or something.”
No, my father does not have to be “married to the church or something.” This only relates to Catholic priests. Although my mom might say that’s debatable. (In a non-hostile way, of course.) We are Episcopalian and it’s completely fine to get married and pop out some babies.
“So was your dad like super crazy strict growing up?”
My dad was actually fairly even headed when it came to rules and regulations. He had normal expectations of honesty in our household, respect for each other and ourselves, and proper right and wrong behavior. I almost always understood his reasons behind each rule or punishment we received. So no, he wasn’t crazy strict splashing holy water on me if I slipped up and said a cuss word or wore a crop top.
Story time: When I was younger, if I misbehaved, one of the possible punishments I’d receive was three spanks with a wooden spoon. I was a mischievous imp as a child so therefore, received these spankings a solid handful of times and completely deserved it. As I got older, looking back and laughing at these times and my reaction to them, I asked my dad what his thought process was through it all. He said he hated punishing us, my mom had to basically leave the house during them, but he said, “I never punished my kids this way unless they deliberately disobeyed rules that were clearly in place; never for any other reason.” This is why I believe I have a fantastic father.
“ohhh you’re a preacher’s daughter… So you must be really bad, huh? *wink, wink*” (usually asked by a gross guy at a party or something).
First off, if you ask me this question, you’re annoying and I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone, thank you. So which side of the spectrum do I lean to: unruly devil-child or picture-perfect angel? I always say I’m contently in the middle. I’m not a complete fun-sucker with no sense of reality, staying home on a Friday night to read my Bible and don’t know the first thing about boys. But on the other hand, I don’t constantly rebel against my parents, do drugs, or sleep around. I have a perspective and reality this is very similar to many of my peers; I’m a fairly normal teenager. I was taught to hold myself to a certain standard and with respect. I can thank my parents for that state of mind.
“Where you forced to go to church all the time?”
Side story: When I was little, I would be woken up for church, fight my mom every step of the way when trying to get me in a dress, and driven to church. I would still be sleepy from waking up not long before the service that almost every Sunday during my dad’s sermon, I would lay down across the pew with my head on my mom’s lap and sleep completely through it. By the end of the service, I was ready to wake up, grab my dad’s hand and join him half way day the isle during the procession out (A congregational favorite that lead to a lot of attention and many “awws”).
My mom and dad always encouraged me to go to church. They did their best to make it known that it was the right thing in their eyes and that they wanted me to go, but they never forced me to. Either way, I’ve mostly always enjoyed going to church. Especially as I’ve gotten older, I view it more as family time than anything else.