About a year or two into divorce, it became clear that working weekends, days and nights for a small salary wasn't going to keep the single mom and two kids in their house so I left for the job I still have, assistant to a school superintendent in a nearby tiny town.
But the love affair with Children's Ministry wasn't over. About a year or so after I left work at St. Peter's, I went to work with a friend and shared the responsibilities for children's and youth ministry at church in North Jersey. It was after-hours work for both of us and eventually proved to be hard to handle with our regular jobs and family responsibilities. We worked for a friend who was an amazing priest (now a bishop) and were continually inspired by him and his congregation. After about two years of a long Sunday commute and missing our home parish dreadfully, we bowed out, satisfied with having brought them to a place where they could manage to grow without us.
Meanwhile, St. Peter's was experiencing growing pains (or, more accurately, lack of growth pains). I was called and offered my old job back on a part-time basis. I didn't have to think about it very long before I answered the call in the affirmative. I started immediately and fell in love all over again with kids and parents and volunteer teachers who met each week to explore their faith and learn the story of God's saving plan on earth with an earnestness that never failed to impress and inspire me. We did a lot of good work together and I never felt so complete as when I spent time in the undercroft of our historic building, imagining lessons, retreats and pageants that both instructed and, hopefully, brought both children and those who care for them further along in their faith journeys.
After four years or so, exhaustion set in. My job in the school district is demanding. It can start as early as 5 AM with teachers calling me to tell they're sick and in need of a substitute whereupon I'm up and making phone calls in the wee hours. They can call me until 11 PM at night so it's potentially a long day. I almost never leave at my appointed leaving time (3:30) but I did when I worked for the church too so I could get to my lovely office on the third floor with views of our cemetery, dating back to pre-Civil War times. And I was there on Saturdays (often) and every Sunday. Those years I gave most of my vacation time to full weekdays at my part-time job so there was very little time off for recharging and renewing. I was eating a lot of meals in the car and packing even more weight onto my already overweight 5 foot 2 inch frame.
Tired and feeling like I was no longer giving my best, I retired for a second time. Melissa, the priest in charge of family ministry, refers to my retirement as a sabbatical. I was adamant that it wasn't time off; I was really done. Needing to concentrate on my health issues and, perhaps, take a vacation once in a while, I felt sure that leaving was the appropriate thing to do. So I gave myself a couple of months to get organized and then "Operation Make Me Over" was going to begin.
That was the plan. But August brought Hurricane Irene into my life. Literally. Within a couple of months of coming to grips with that life-changing event, my father became seriously ill--his final illness. In and out of the hospital over the next half year, he eventually succumbed to his pulmonary issues. Then my mom's 95-year-old sister also became ill and we had emergency trips to Canada to see her until she also left us. I now see that I needed to leave that job in order to be able to have the time to handle a year's worth of crises.
Operation Make Me Over started 10 months late but it's going well. Most of the excess weight is gone and I'm back in shape. There's time for me. This past fall I made little forays back into my former ministry. I'm back doing Parents' Night Out, a program I'd started a few years ago. Over the summer there were plans to share our classroom space with a nursery school so we packed everything up to renovate that space. Recently those plans fell through. So today saw me back in my space, unpacking box after box of curriculum material.
Handling the Godly Play stories brought me right back. Back to ideas and energy and spiritual wakefulness. Back to storytelling and liturgical awareness. I started yearning for my own circle of little people, of spending wondering and work time with them. I played with the Jonah story ... picturing how children retell the story with Jonah, putting him on the boat and in and out of the big fish. I see them learning a literal story today and picture them 30 years from now, engulfed with some issue that might be "swallowing" them up and seeing them say to themselves "Aha, now I get that Jonah business." I smile at the thought that I might be a little bit involved with their spiritual maturity.
I feel the pull. I need someone to talk me down, though. I love my new life. Healthy, more balanced, complete with family, old friends and new, community service and time left over for me. Reconnecting with old loves in a new way (like music and reading). Dreaming about the future and imagining what it might hold.
My new life revolves around moving forward. All the walking is sort of a metaphor for that. And I know I'm not the only one who can do that job at St. Peter's. (However, I do recognize that I'm probably the only one who wants to.) So hold me back. Don't let me cram my time with work, no matter how loved, from sun up to sundown. Help me live in the moment and stay true to the new me. I believe I can serve everyone better from this healthier place. I just need to keep moving forward and stay in balance.
One of the most beautiful places I know: http://www.stpetersmorristown.org/
Godly Play is more than play: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aw_mrzZJx00
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