ie:missional teaching. glocalizing. living. serving. repenting. incarnating. loving. repeating.

Years ago, Focus on the Family (I think), deemed that October should forever be Pastor Appreciation Month. As a pastor, I really like this emphasis as it has become the impetus for cards, calls and gifts received throughout the month. I ain’t complaining.

Today, I’d like to focus on the person at our church who makes Pastor Appreciation Month possible for me: Sonya Duren, my wife. If it wasn’t for her I don’t think I could survive from October to October to receive all the appreciations.

When Sonya and I were dating, I made the grievous error of buying a book about the pastor’s wife by some well meaning woman who was obviously writing from a context of the 1950’s or maybe even the 1940’s. It nearly scared her to death. I’m not sure why she decided to go ahead and marry me, but she did and has never tried to match up to the cookie cutter model advocated in the book. She is the perfect wife for me.

She doesn’t sing in the choir or play the piano, she’s never led VBS or taught kids Sunday school and she sits on the back row during church. But, for me and a number of women in our church she is a repository of wisdom. She’s read the Bible completely through more times than I’ve started. She’s in her 16th year of homeschooling our three kids, with the only graduate (so far) from the Duren Home School graduating in December from Georgia State University with a degree in Philosophy and a 3.8 GPA. Not bad for a teacher who only took one college class.
If there is a spiritual gift of hospitality then she has it. She is a marvelous interior designer who frequents Hobby Lobby and yard sales for our home decor. I’ve often joked with our congregation that, “We’ve probably got some of your stuff hanging on our walls.” Our home has a warmth that is recognized and commented on by guests. She has a great eye for color and has more plans for remodeling our yard than we could accomplish in 10 lifetimes. If we ever build another house, she has a notebook crammed with pictures and ideas torn from Southern Living and House Beautiful. She could give Ty Pennington a run for his money.

She’s gone with me on many adventures, some of which she was more than a little uncertain when we started, but we’ve managed to go together and stay together. From small church to mega church to medium church to not sure about church, she’s always been with me and I’ve never once thought that she might leave.

There’s no place that I’d rather be than in a north Georgia or North Carolina cabin making love to Sonya Duren. If marriage is about the completion of two people, then there can be no doubt that these two puzzle pieces were meant for each other. She is the love of my life and I’m taking this moment to say, “Happy Pastor’s Wife Appreciation Month, honey.”

While on vacation this week, my son, Timothy, and I decided to go on a hike. Actually, the hike was pre-planned, but we adjusted it from two nights to one so that he could get back and do some mission stuff with our Student Ministry.

Continuing my section hiking of the Appalachian Trail, we put in at Unicoi Gap on Monday at around 1:20 to begin a 5.5 mile section that would take us to the Tray Mountain Shelter where we would spend the first night. Upon beginning, the heat and humidity was murderous and we were chugging Power-Aid about as fast as we could get it down. About 4 miles in, it began to cloud over as the weather forecast had predicted–60% chance of scattered thunderstorms.

A few minutes later it began to sprinkle. We were in a heavily wooded part of the trail, each side completely lined with Mountain Laurels and a reasonably thick canopy overhead. The rain began to intensify so we found an area that appeared to provide some protection and waited. No such luck.

As we waited, the rain turned in to a deluge of Noahic proportions. After 7 or 8 minutes of waiting under our “protective canopy” we were drenched. Timothy said, “Well, we might as well go ahead and head up the mountain.” Captain Obvious. We started up the hill, hiking up a trail that had already become a stream that engulfed his shoes and my boots, filling them up. We looked like a couple of drowned rats within five more minutes. Our backpacks were soaked as was every single layer of our clothing.

The higher we ascended, the harder the rain became. Thunder was steady and lightening flashed to the left and to the right. I felt not unlike John Muir.

IT WAS GREAT!!

We got to the shelter (thank God we didn’t have to use the tent), found that the clothes inside our packs had not gotten soaked and thus changed into the driest ones we could find, ate and settled into our sleeping bags for the night…at 6:30 pm.

Since we had removed our second night of camping, today (Tuesday) turned into a 10.5 mile hike to our pick up point, Dick’s Creek Gap and GA Hwy 76. We headed out just before 7:45 am for a several hour trek over another pretty tall peak (Kelly’s Knob) which would be the third of the hike. Most of the rest was steadily downhill. For a non-hiker, this sounds like a dream, but if you’ve ever done it you know it isn’t as easy as it sounds.

Downhill hiking, after the first hour or so, feels like being chased down a mountain by the 35 pound back on your back. The constant downhill motion pushes the toes into the front of your shoes/boots continuously and can cause your toenails to actually cut the next toes, and this is also what causes blisters on the heels of your feet. Timothy and I took turns leading and I quickly realized that he had reached the point that he could outpace me if he desired; he’s 16 and I’m 43. At some point in the last 18 months that young cat developed a climbing gear that this old lion doesn’t have.

At the point where we had three miles left it was about 11:30 am. We had just finished a 15 or so minute break of Clif Bars and Gatorade when I said, “Why don’t you go ahead and set your own pace. See how fast you can get to the end and don’t stop to wait for me.” Famous last words.

Within 3 minutes, he was out of sight. Uphill, downhill, uphill and then two miles of downhill. Brutal stuff after walking 7.5 miles already. For me, it was some of the hardest hiking I’ve done. At 2:00 I finally stepped off the trail, weary and ready for some real food. As I crossed the street, he jumped of the tailgate of the truck and said, “I got here at 1:09.” No stinkin’ way. “How do you know,” I asked. I already knew he’d forgotten his watch. “As soon as I walked over here a lady came off the trail on this side and I asked her.” He’d blistered the last three miles of a 10.5 mile hike in 1:39 and beaten me by 51 minutes. I’m a dead man.

It was wonderful to spend that time with him. But I’m not trying to prove myself against his stamina anymore. That’s too embarrassing.

Not by accident, I snapped this photo this morning of the atomic clock (www.time.gov) at exactly 07.07.07 on 07.07.07. Coincidentally, today happens to be my wife’s __th birthday and she had a great one.

Here is my beloved, with daughter Abigail, at the World War II Memorial in DC in April of this year.