He wasn't a workaholic. It wasn't until college that I talked with other clergy children and discovered how unusual it was that I spent many, many hours with my father. I'm convinced this was linked to a more balanced, realistic approach to ministry. My father kept on loving God, his work and his people. I have never known a pastor who didn't wrestle with fits of melancholy.
Pastors are, by nature, realists who know the reality of pain and sin.
And many heap criticism on them, micromanage their lives and expect miracles. I rarely saw my father move mountains. But I did see him preach, teach, pray and embrace sinners. I was proud that he was a pastor. I still am.