The rant of a PK

My brother Micah encouraged me to write something about what it was like for us growing up. Here Micah. ..

The only way to survive being a pastor’s kid is to have a great sense of humor with a dash of sarcasm. (Or sarcasm with a dash of humor. Both work just fine.)

I absolutely loved my childhood, but being a PK does present some unique challenges while growing up. Usually pastor’s kids are seen as one of two extremes…

946286_10153052181995510_1323587461_n…Pastors kids are perfect, Bible thumping, verse spewing little angels. False. Their like anyone else’s kids. No, seriously. They are. I know some of you are thinking “Oh Megan, but you’re so perfect”. Yes. Thank you.

…Pastors kids are rebellious, hypocritical little monsters. False. Really, they’re not. They’re trying to figure out life just like your kids. Now you’re thinking, “But your brother, Micah…”

Here’s what it’s like:

Your family is the first at church and the last to leave. You are at every funeral, wedding and you have to dress up for Easter and Christmas.  Some of the longest moments in my life were waiting for my parents, after church, in their ’85 suburban, starving, in minus 30 weather, with two whiny brothers, wearing hosiery. I don’t care if Kate Middleton is wearing it… I will never wear hosiery again.

Everybody knows you are poor. So they all give you their hand-me-downs. You’re parents never need to buy you new clothes for school. Yes. What a blessing.

Your embarrassing moments become perfect sermon illustrations! At any age, this is STILL embarrassing.

At any given time during church, prayer meeting, Sunday school or youth group, you know where the food is and how to get to it.

No one wants to date a pastor’s daughter, but everyone wants to date the pastor’s son!   Seriously, dads out there, if the idea of your daughter dating terrifies you, maybe you’re being called to ministry.  Most boys my age were not excited at the idea of dating a church going, hosiery wearing, bible thumping, suburban driving, daughter of a minister. Maybe they’re afraid if things don’t go well, it might send them to eternal damnation. Whatever the reason, I didn’t date till college.

Your happy moments become perfect sermon illustrations!

Everyone thinks their pastor’s daughter is the perfect baby sitter. I didn’t need to get a job in high school. I had babysitting jobs lined out the door. No, I CHOSE to get a job. Any excuse NOT to baby sit. I have no idea why being a pastors kid should automatically make me good with children. I’m not. Friends, I don’t know what to do with your children. I don’t know what to do with them, what to say to them, how often to feed them… what they eat…If you are reading this and I babysat for you, you can be sure that your child watched endless hours of television.

Not only should you love to babysit, you should also love the nursery and love teaching Sunday school. You can probably guess how I feel about those things as well.

Every time a PK forgets to bring their Bible to church, somewhere, another puppy dies.. . But as a PK you should have most of the Bible memorized anyway.

Your sad moments become perfect sermon illustrations!

A lot of strange old people know your name. You have no idea who they are, but you pretend.

In all truthfulness I loved my childhood and wouldn’t change a thing. We lived in unique places, met amazing people and have some great memories. Because my dad was a pastor I never had my heart broken, I appreciate how kind and generous people can be and I learned how to take care of other people’s children.
Thank you PBS.

I still resent my parents for never buying me new clothes.
And there is nothing to learn from hosiery, there is only oppression.

3 thoughts on “The rant of a PK

  1. I never had new clothes until I left home and bought my own. All my friends liked my home made ones, so I felt special…


  2. I sort of understand this I am a pastors grand daughter and even as the grand daughter I was excepted to be perfect know the bible all the prayers psalms and hymns. My grandpa lived in Mexico we lived in Canada and I saw him like 12 times total in my whole life (he just died last year).
    P.S My grandpa’s name was Penner!!!!!! are we related??? Just kidding prbly not related still I found it interesting


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