Preacher's Wife

It seems like there is a special category of woman who fits the preacher's wife profile. I certainly didn't make that cut. 
There are qualities these women display that may not ever be part of my personality matrix. I'm only dwelling on this because somehow, somewhere, I got stuck on the "preacher's wife" track and I'm really not sure what to do.
Serving God isn't the issue. I begged him in 3rd grade to let me be a missionary. I wanted to go to Africa and tell people all about Jesus. Of course then years passed and I ended up in 6th grade and then college and then well God left the picture. (Yeah, I know, he didn't leave. I did. He was there at my shoulder, tapping it every now and then.) So anyway, I abandoned the missionary career path. The one I went down was not one frequented by the other future preachers' wives.
Now, I'm watching my daughters as they grow up. They are talking like future preacher's wives. The youngest worships and prays with an abandon that almost equals David's dancing. The oldest laughs with Jesus like he's one of her girl friends. And the middle one in her quiet contemplative way takes the brand of "Christian" and wears it as proudly as she wears her sock monkey hat. 
If I have any success as a mom, it would be to have daughters who could serve as preachers' wives and missionaries. Girls who would listen to God's calls and follow. 
I may always stay on the outside of that special group. I didn't live that formative life. That crazy, church obsessed, Bible referenced, surrounded by true love and support formative life. I'm ok with looking into that life. I'm making headway in the thought pattern areas, backsliding on the makeup thing, and I'm not at all sure where the tats fit in the picture. But all that is ok. I'll just keep praying that my girls stay strong in their beliefs, beautiful in heart and body, and that their sharp sense of humor doesn't get them in too much trouble.