The Minister of losing time.

Isn’t it amazing how time works? Out of all the things in the universe, time is one thing you cannot revisit or change. You can’t manipulate it or correct it. It can not improve, or fail, it just is. It just exists.

Five years ago, I embarked on a journey for salvation. A bit dramatic, I know, but it is the truth. I decided it was time to complete the last sacrament of my Catholic faith; the Sacrament of Confirmation. I had realized that my daughter, one year old at the time, was going to need to be Baptized. Being her mother, and not being confirmed, seemed silly to me. How was I supposed to instill values, my values, our values, our faith and love, with the bases that I had not completed the Sacraments myself? I had the initiation and promise to walk in the footsteps of God at my Baptism completed. I had the initiation of the communion with my First Communion completed, but I didn’t have the Sacrament of Confirmation completed. The confirmation is important because this sacrament solidifies your stance with your faith in God and the Catholic faith as an adult. We spend most of our lifetime being adults than we do being children, well, most of us anyway, therefore, this Sacrament was important to me. My goal was to solidify my faith journey and start my life right again.

I decided to take the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults or RCIA, course at my church. I finished the course and was confirmed by the time my daughter turned one. At my confirmation, the Bishop of the Diocese who was blessing the ceremony randomly came up to me to ask if I would be teaching next year. Surprised and completely thrown off, I answered with “No, Bishop, I just got confirmed, I wouldn’t be able to teach anything.” He then proceeded to tell me that I looked like someone who was itching to minister. Coincidently, I was someone who was “itching to minister.” Later that evening, my teacher, Ms. Veronica, asked me if I would be willing to teach the class with her in the upcoming year. I obviously felt unprepared and confused and my face showed it. This was the second time I was greeted in this manner. “Why me? Is it God calling? Should I answer?”, I thought. A few moments passed and I agreed. I accepted to help out for the next year.

I joined the ministry of teaching and began the process of getting certified as a teaching ministress with the Parish Ministers’ Formation Program or PMFP. Before I could apply for the actual PMFP course, however, I had to complete one year of volunteering in RCIA. I had at least the next two years planned out; First year: RCIA. Second year: RCIA and PMFP. The control was real here. I had a new job, I was on track with my faith journey to God, my daughter was finally baptized and life was decently in order. But then, time snuck up on me.

Covid-19 created a whirlwind of events. I lost my grandmother, my step-mother and even Ms. Veronica, all in the same year due to Covid-19 and cancer. It was too much. But I was determined to continue. I completed the first year of volunteering as an RCIA Teaching Member on Easter Sunday and I was ready to start the PMFP course. The Deacon of our church and I had created a great plan with the teaching strategy of RCIA and all felt solid. I received the dates for PMFP and I was excited. In July, my husband and I bought our first home and were very busy on remodeling to finally move in. I was ready and anticipating my upcoming next step. Life could have not been more perfect. Except, time got me again. I became pregnant.

For most in my position in the Church, this would seem like a blessing. But it didn’t feel that way. I was depressed beyond belief. My first pregnancy nearly cost me my life and the life of my first daughter, resulting her to come premature. I didn’t want this. Prior to this, I didn’t believe in birth control. Even though my OBGYN recommended me to get on birth control since I had a very dangerous pregnancy, I refused. I quickly regretted not taking his advice. I was scared. I was anxious. I was confused. I was mad as hell. To fast forward the details, I got over this. I accepted it and came to terms with, “It’s not the baby’s fault. I want the baby, I love the baby. I want to have the baby, but I hate pregnancy. Everything about pregnancy, and blood, and vomiting; I hate it all. But I am so excited for the new life I am creating.” If you’re a mom who struggled with pregnancies, you would understand and know what I mean.

October came quickly and so did my belly. PMFP and RCIA’s new year started; and I was pregnant. I tried, I really did. But after some months, I had to pause. Because I was in pain and weak from the morning sickness that I was blessed with every day, I had to take a break from PMFP and RCIA. I needed to re-group. I needed to have my baby, finish the remodeling that was left untouched since we found out I was pregnant and I needed to figure out when my first born will go to school. Although the schools were returning to traditional classrooms, my first daughter was still doing virtual learning. It was tough. To have a kid in school, another one that was recently born and only having my husband’s income because the E.D.D. had not processed my maternity leave pay and FMLA didn’t kick in yet, was tough. Making sure my daughter had an education, making sure they both had health insurance, making sure the bills were paid with one income, having things break down in our new home, going to all of my post-pregnancy appointments, going through post-partum depression… again, going to the baby’s first year appointments, getting back on anxiety medication, figuring out baby-sitting for both girls and preparing to go back to work… it was tough. It is tough.

My first born is turning five years old soon and my second born is turning two years old. My, how has time treated me. I never went back to complete my PMFP course and I have been struggling with keeping up with RCIA since I came back from a maternity break. In fact, this is why I’m writing all of this now. To get it out. I couldn’t do it anymore. I need to pause time… again.

Last night, I broke down. I’m losing myself. Well, I was losing myself. I spoke to Deacon last night and he reminded me of a few key things. Walking with God has four steps. God first, family second, work third and ministry last. I have no sense of direction right now. I used to love being in class to share the knowledge and theological studies I had adopted. I loved seeing the face and eyes of realization on my students when they realized that following God is not hard. Which its not. This is personal. I’ve lost the motivation to continue RCIA and definitely lost track of time. I knew that going into this ministry was going to be a new challenge but I didn’t count on everything becoming so heavy. In a 48-minute conversation, Deacon and I concluded that I will be taking a break from ministry. God, it was heavy coming to that decision, but I had to make it.

It’s very bitter-sweet to accept taking a break from something i have been doing for four years. I am very saddened by it, but I need to breathe. Having to attend classes and prepare for classes, and hear so many stories and try to keep them motivated while not motivated myself, was nearly impossible. I made it work for everyone but not myself.

Being the main parent in our home has and is taking a toll on me. My husband, a contractor, is on his mission to create an establish and functioning company, and I support him. But I just can’t right now. I want to start again. I want to be happy again. I want to go back to attending MASS on Sunday with my family, because I was the reason they went in the first place. I need to get back on track.

In the next five months I have my soon-to-be five-year-old’s birthday to plan, my soon-to-be two-year-old’s birthday to plan, her baptism, and oh yeah, my wedding. We will finally complete our final sacrament, the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony. It’ll be on a Thursday, with only the closest people around us to attend. There is just so much to do, and yet, so little time.