FAITH focus 3B  FISHBOWL Continued from page 1B


Methodist polity and clergy appoint- ments. “We tried to personalize the


process in a simple way,” said Ms. Dye. Because the lives of clergy fami- lies are so dramatically affected by appointments, she wanted the kids to understand that the process is not random. Most importantly, the retreat pro-


vided a safe place for PKs to talk. “You are put in a fishbowl and


everybody stares at you and expects you to be on this high pedestal,” said Melissa Mason, a ninth grader whose father is a pastor in Stony Point, N.C. “It was great to be with other PKs


and for once I was not the only PK, because you kind of get branded with that at other retreats,” said Stephen Mayo, an eighth grader whose mother is a pastor in Belmont, N.C. Bishop Larry Goodpaster, the only


“non-PK” in attendance, made an in- formal presentation to the group. “When we call up a profile of your parent, your name and age pops up too,” he told the attendees. “We know you and we care about you.” Despite the negatives of life as a


PK, the event “was not a complaining time,” said Ms. Dye. “The kids felt that being a PK is overwhelmingly positive. They feel noticed and cared for.”


The event “made a world of differ-


ence to these kids,” Ms. Dye said. “I’ve been flooded with thank you notes from parents. It’s touched a real need.”


A lifelong bond On a Facebook page for children


of United Methodist clergy, there’s a laundry list of 38 “ifs.” You know you’re a United Methodist preacher’s kid, the page says, “if you’ve attended


schools from multiple school dis- tricts, if you know why January and June are the most stressful months of the year, if you’re one of the few youth in your church who actually attend regularly, or if your mom or dad uses your embarrassing moments in ser- mons.” As the page suggests, the experi-


ence of growing up as a “preacher’s kid” is a defining one. Many adult PKs say they belong to a fraternity, of sorts, to which they’ll belong for the rest of their lives. Growing up in a parsonage, in the middle of the ac- tion in a community of faith, left them with a set of lessons and mem- ories that few others share. Although the frequent moves were


difficult, many say they benefited from the experience, too. For Maren Oehl, the years without her mom made her more independent. “Moving around helped me learn


to make friends and to be OK with change,” said Blaire Scott, youth min- ister of Granbury (Texas) United Methodist Church and daughter of the Rev. Donald Scott, now a district superintendent in Waxahachie, Texas. Preachers’ kids also share the


unique life experience of living in a parsonage. “We used to have a joke,” said Scott Shirley, a member of Ar- borlawn UMC in Fort Worth, Texas, whose father was a United Methodist pastor. “‘Parsonage’ was Greek for ‘substandard housing.’” While he thinks things are better now, his fam- ily didn’t enjoy central air condition- ing until he reached the age of 10. Every minor change or repair in their living space required the approval of a church committee. Preachers’ kids also had to deal


with the preconceptions that church members often have about them.


“People think we’re either all re-


ally rebellious, or goody two shoes,” said Ms. Scott. Whenever the young Scott Shirley


got into trouble, the scolding often included this additional reprimand: “And you’re the preacher’s son!” “People sometimes expect this in-


human level of holiness from PKs,” he said. “You’re held to a higher stan- dard.” When Maren Oehl got her nose


pierced in high school, parishioners immediately filed her in the rebel- lious category. It was a relief, she said, to go to college, where people didn’t know her, at least initially, as a PK. “I’m not a rebel and I’m not


super-conservative,” she said. “I’m somewhere in the middle, like most people.” Preachers’ kids also know about


the joys and pains of growing up in the “fishbowl.” Many PKs say they en- joyed the attention that came with being the child of the pastor—until they got a little older. “When I became a teen, it felt


everyone was watching me,” said Maren Oehl. “I didn’t like that. I wanted to blend in.” “I definitely think people felt


more entitled to my personal busi- ness,” said Ms. Scott. In the long run, however, she


thinks that helped her. “It gave me a sense of accountability,” Ms. Scott said. “I had to think more about my actions and what they look like.” Mr. Shirley loves sharing tales of


the devilish trouble he got into as a PK. His family lived next door to the church and he and his friends were allowed to play there during the day. On top of getting “ridiculously good at ping pong,” he pulled a few stunts, like snacking on communion wafers (to the horror of his Catholic friends) and playing the church carillon in the middle of the day. A PK herself, the Rev. Karen Oehl


remembers annual conferences, held at a resort community on Lake Erie called Lakeside, and reuniting with her fellow “PKs” every summer. “There’s this sense that you are con- nected,” she said. When she returned to Lakeside with her own daughters, they made friends there with other PKs, too. One time her daughter brought


home a fellow PK for lunch, and in- formed the visitor that her mother was a PK, too. “The girl looked at me and said,


‘And you became a minister?’, as if I should’ve known better,” said Ms. Oehl.


Mr. Shirley remembers how his PHOTOS BY MARK BARDEN


Participants in the Preachers’ Kids retreat act out a skit portraying a church committee.


family always stayed with other pas- tors’ families whenever they traveled. “All the older kids got thrown into one room,” he said. “We would build


UNITED MET HODI S T REPORTER | AP RIL 1, 2011


forts with furniture and blankets.” He’s still in touch with many of those fellow PKs, and “we have a bond that will last forever.” And not all those sacrifices that


PKs made went uncompensated. As a kid, Ms. Scott figured out a way to profit from one of the indignities that many “preachers’ kids” face: being cited as “sermon examples.” Whenever her father, the Rev.


Donald Scott, told a story about her in a sermon, he had to pay her, in cash. (The amount varied, depending on how embarrassing the story was, and how old it was.) And Mr. Shirley notes another


benefit. While was in high school, a popular song, “Son of a Preacher Man,” seemed to boost his popularity among the young ladies. “PKs may have this ‘wild image,’ but chicks dig it,” he jokes.


Special gifts Aside from funny memories, PKs


inherit a precious spiritual legacy, ac- cording to Timothy Tyson, author of Blood Done Sign My Name and the son of a United Methodist pastor. He was the keynote speaker at the


Preachers’ Kids retreat in Western North Carolina. He encouraged par- ticipants to follow their dreams, in whatever professions they choose. “The wonderful thing about being


a PK is you become a storyteller of love . . . one of the interpreters of what matters,” he told the attendees. “The question becomes less and


less, ‘Are you going to become a min- ister like your daddy or like your momma?’ but instead, ‘What kind of minister are you and how will you carry this torch?’” Karen Oehl agrees. Despite the sacrifices, she believes that life as a


Joshua Williams from Southmont, N.C., was one of 37 participants during a Preachers’ Kids Weekend in the Western North Carolina Conference.


PK offered one of the best childhoods a kid could have. That was confirmed the first time


she attended a church as a “regular person” instead of as the daughter of the church pastor. People were friendly, but she didn’t get the special attention she usually enjoyed. “It was so odd,” she said. “I felt


kind of lonely.” For all the complaining that we


might do, being a PK is a lot of fun.” mjacobs@umr.org


Mark L. Barden, director of communications for the Western N.C. Conference, contributed to this story.


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