I still haven't been able to find a worthwhile job, although I have signed up for a blogging spot, although I have to make the blog about something and not just my life, and unfortunately religion is NOT one of the categories I can write on.
If I could, I'd write a blog for pastor's wives like me, the ones who watch rated R moves, listen to mainstream music, curse, and laugh at jokes that would give some older congregations heart attacks. But, that's what I guess I'm doing here. Unfortunately that doesn't mean I'm going to get paid, though.
On several occasions I've considered writing a book, and I've started to write it (9 pages), but I get stuck. My other book about dealing with sibling loss is also at a halt. 
I bought a book called I'm More Than The Pastor's Wife, and it wasn't very helpful for me. It spoke about balancing family life and the church - time for the kids, scheduling with work, the annoyances of being a pastor's wife and what to expect. My only problem is that over 50% of the book was about family. We don't have a family yet.
They assume, for the most part, that pastor's have kids, but what about new pastors? What about pastors who just got married before they started their ministry position? What about people like me?
I didn't really grow up in a church. Someone asked me how I got "saved". 
My mother and father were never really all that Christian. My mother was more spiritual, and my father was very logically inclined when it came to Christianity. When I was a teenager I started to question and reject, and he took the stance of "If you don't believe, you'll go to Hell, so you should believe." To me, that wasn't real belief, that was fear.
When my brother and I were kids Mom used to take us to a Baptist church, and I hated it. The kids were mean. I asked questions. I gave the odd answers. They didn't really like me, or if they did they had an odd way of showing it. I never felt like the Sunday school teachers liked me either. After a few years of that mom stopped taking us. I'm not sure why... maybe I plead with her enough. When we were younger whenever we'd stay with my Grandma she'd take us to church, Pentacostal. The kind of place where people would fall down twitching. I always thought how weird that was, and wondered if I would go up there, they'd lay their hands on me and I'd just stand there, like "Ok. Not working."
I went back to church, Lutheran, when I was 12, for a year. I went to youth group and again I felt out of place. I felt like the weird kid... of course I always kinda did. I asked the questions that everyone wouldn't ever think to ask. I stopped going. It felt like a clique. 
When I was 14, I went back to church with a friend from school. It was awesome. It was a very small church, one room, 10 pews, and no more than 30 people. We got all dressed up and went and everyone was singing out, dancing and clapping their hands. It was nothing like the church when I was a kid - so reserved and proper... or the Lutheran church, which was even more reserved. Unfortunately those friends moved away, so I stopped going to church (mom wouldn't drive me "that far").
My mom and dad never spoke to us about God from the time we stopped going as kids until we were teenagers (16-17). My brother rejected the idea of God, called it "fairytales". I went in a different direction, exploring all different "fairytales". I found out that Paganism is a lot like an adapted version of Christianity, same basic principles just with different names. I found most religions were all connected to Christianity in some way - whether it be traditions, story, or just principles. I got really interested in religions and studied them, because the religious education I'd gotten from my parents and peers was, well, lame. In college I took a lot of religion classes, philosophy of religion was a big one for me. What I didn't like about the religion classes was when the Super-Christians would come in trying to argue the Truth.... they didn't get that that wasn't what it was about.
When I met my husband, I told him up and down I wasn't going to go back to church, and that I was perfectly happy believing what I believed, and that if he wanted to date me, to not pressure me. He didn't. Three months later, he took me to Easter service at his home church to meet his parents (who are VERY Christian). I felt at home again. We tried to go to church as often as we could - but with me and him still in college and working 20-30 hours a week, it was hard.
To be totally honest, I don't really remember a time when I was "saved" per say. I know when I was a kid I accepted Jesus into my heart, and I always kinda felt the need to go back to church. I never got baptized. When I was about 13 I spoke to my Grandmother about it who said I didn't NEED to be, that it was just symbolic, but that she was so happy I was thinking about it. I think she blames my mom for my brother and I's falling out of church, which is odd because her son never went to church, even when we did as kids.
My family was extremely surprised when they heard I was engaged to a future youth pastor. They were happy about it, but surprised. Everyone since has remarked how ridiculous that a person like me would EVER be a pastor's wife, or do well in the role.
The only snag I had was with my husband's extended family, right after we got married. I had always felt out of place, but figured it was just because I didn't get to see them much.... but, I felt all over again like I did when I was a kid - out of place, said things that they wouldn't get... they started to be very condescending to me, very rude, and downright mean. I couldn't take it any more and went off. I spouted out curse words and expressed my annoyances with the way they were treating me. After talking, we wrote them out. We haven't spoken to them or seen them for almost 2 years. They all claimed to be so Christian, but were so racist, and rude. I let it come between me. I almost left, then realized they weren't really all that Christian, because you can't be racist and Christian.