I don't know if all of my readers have noticed, but the name of my column is "the parsonage." So today I would like to share with you a glimpse into parsonage life.

Through the years I've observed this about life: people are universally and timelessly the same. . . and we can include our Bible ancestry as well. Ancient man had the same weaknesses, character flaws and strengths as we have.

A few years ago, John and I so enjoyed reading the book "Papa Was a Preacher," by Alyene Porter. It's about life in the parsonage in a by-gone era. Alyene's father was a Methodist minister with eight children. I could identify (and sympathize) with all she wrote.

One chapter was devoted to weddings of all kinds and the mishaps therein. Since they had a large family and money was scarce, a fee for a wedding would often buy a needed pair of shoes. She wrote of impromptu weddings, some in the middle of the night and one at the crack of dawn.

Invariably the groom would ask the minister, "What do I owe you?" Pastor Porter would diplomatically reply, "Whatever you think your bride is worth." One groom answered, "Got change for a quarter?"

I know every minister could write a book about unusual weddings. Our minister son, Randy, once conducted a wedding where a police dog served as the best man. I don't know who or "what" the maid of honor was.

I recall a couple of memorable weddings we've had. Years ago I was doing spring house cleaning. I had all the furniture in the middle of the room, the drapes were down and a stepladder stood in front of a bare picture window. The door bell rang. It was a middle aged couple wanting to get married "right now."

I was mortified. "Wouldn't you prefer being married in the sanctuary?" I asked. "Why no," they answered, "This is perfectly charming". . . so the wedding was on.

I recall another wedding late one Saturday night years ago. I still had paint-stained clothes on from a painting project and was waiting for John to get out of the tub. It was 11:30 p.m. when the doorbell rang. The young couple explained that they had held a marriage license for several days and when they saw our lights on, they wondered if the pastor would marry them?

I invited them in, unbeknownst to John. Trying to appear casual (for the couple was within earshot), I knocked on the bathroom door and explained that a couple was here and would like to get married. Not even trying to hide his irritation, he yelled, "THEY-WANT-TO-DO-WHAT?"

The wedding, with a paint-stained witness, was held at midnight next door in the church sanctuary. And would you believe, the newlyweds visited our worship services the very next morning? My husband welcomed the visitors and introduced them to the congregation saying, "I married this nice couple. . . uh . . . recently."

There are no schools or courses to prepare one for parsonage life, or for that matter, on how to be a minister's wife. It's on-the-job- training and I wouldn't change a thing and miss all those blessings. . . one of these days I'm going to write a book.