Is the title a little clickbaity? Maybe, but you’re here… and, it was kind of the truth at the time. Well, you’ll see…

I had a pretty good plan for my 2024 Lent:

• Giving up wine, TV, and social media then replacing them with holy reading, prayer, and walking.
• 3 books to read: “The Power of Silence” by Cardinal Sarah, “Immanuel Approach” by Dr. Karl Lehman, and “The Tears of Christ: Meditations for Lent” by St. John Henry Newman
• Donating one item a day from my closet to the Salvation Army – my form of almsgiving as I have no income.

In my humble opinion, it was a good plan. Everything had a purpose, some more obvious than others; all personal but would also benefit the body of Christ in some fashion.

As things often do, Lent started off well.

But after Mass on the first Sunday of Lent, I came home and realized I hadn’t yet pulled any items from my closet to donate. Mostly because I didn’t have a plan for where to put them. And then, because I didn’t see a bin or box, the intention was ‘out of sight, out of mind’.

Strait off, I found an empty box and started plucking items from my wardrobe:

• Black cardigan for Ash Wednesday
• Skinny jeans for Thursday
• Denim dress pants for Friday
• Pink top for Saturday
• … Sunday … hmmm…

I was starting to run out of ‘easy’ items in my closet (easy meaning ‘I no longer wanted them’). No problem, I had plenty of clothes downstairs in a plastic tub containing my spring/summer wardrobe.

On the way to the basement I was drawn to a ‘junk’ drawer at the bottom of a side table next to my bed. It’s a drawer filled with old computer cables, camera parts, cell phone cases, chargers, etc. The only time I ever open this drawer is to toss in an unused item. Certainly it wasn’t a drawer that would provide fodder for this part of my Lenten plan.

Then, buried at the bottom, a hint of bright blue caught my eye.

Pulling out cables and other paraphernalia revealed a certificate I received in 2015. It was presented to me upon the completion of a week-long intensive course for new diocesan directors by the National Federation for Catholic Youth Ministry (aka NFCYM which runs NCYC and the NCCYM), and is sponsored by the USCCB (we Catholics do love acronyms).

As I type this, the certificate is 9 years old. I retired from youth & young adult ministry several years ago.

Why was I led to open that particular drawer? Why did this item catch my eye? Why was I so moved to hold it, gaze upon it? Why didn’t I just through the damn thing out.

This is where God messed me up… or so I thought.

I caught myself pondering the myriad of questions that pelted my heart.

Something caused me to pause and consider the blue cardstock in my hand.

As a spiritual director, what would I tell my directees?

“Take it to God in prayer, then invite Him to sit in the memories that come to mind.”

So I did.

When I was hired by the Erie Diocese I was so humbled that someone would even consider me… a homeschool wife and mother with two young girls who lived the homesteading lifestyle with goats, pigs, and a husband who hunted & trapped.

On the other hand, I was a cradle Catholic faithful to the Church, on fire for Jesus, with years of experience leading youth ministry.

So, why the self-doubt?

This candidate lacked a college degree.

For purposes of keeping this longer blog from becoming longer, I’ll spare the details for another time. Just know this was an issue that caused great self-doubt and a feeling of unworthiness for many, many years. That said …

In the late 80s there was no such thing as a Bachelor’s in Youth Ministry. In fact, the term ‘youth ministry’ was just coming into vogue. The only training available was ‘on the job’ in a parish blessed enough with a pastor who saw value in this unique ministry.

Being a youth minister wasn’t a career; it was a “volunteer opportunity”.

My opportunity in youth ministry began through a selfish desire – I wanted our daughters to encounter Jesus more often than one day a week at Mass, but our little country church offered nothing more than CCD (which was boring and kumbaya’ish). So, when our DRE (Director of Religious Education; aka CCD leader) quit, the pastor hired me. Youth ministry became an organic addition to my other duties.

TBH, I went down a rabbit hole with the Lord as I was writing this post; it’s one I’ve been down before and is difficult to get out of. Healing non-the-less, this just isn’t the place to share. …and the post was getting really long. If you’ve made it this far… congratulations and thank you. Please continue.

The only thing I brought to the table was a love for Christ and a heart to serve young people. I held no piece of gilded, embossed, creamy cardstock stamped with a university logo. No letters appear after my name.

I’m sure, at least I hope, you will understand why going to the NFCYM in Washington, DC, for that intensive week-long course was so pivotal in my youth ministry opportunity-turned-career.

At the end of the week I finally stood shoulder to shoulder with wonderful Catholics, each with multiple letters behind their name and I’m sure several framed diplomas displayed on their office walls.

This was a certificate I took so much pride in.

This certificate validated my 15 years of hard work in youth & young adult ministry – at the parish & diocesan level.

This certificate rationalized my many, many hours away from my husband and children.

This certificate gave me access to the ‘big kids table’.

This certificate became my identity.

This certificate had to go.

Through this process of prayer my heart told me something was off and Jesus verified it.

My identity did not lie in the blue piece of cardboard with my name on it.

My identity was not developed on a plane to DC.

My identity did not exist because of the USCCB.

The truth of my identity is found in Sacred Scripture:

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you.

Jeremiah 1:5

God loved me into existence. His word is more valuable than that blue cardboard or any man-made degree.

I am a beloved daughter of the Most High. A princess as I am the daughter of The King. There is no greater honor!

Detachment is now the lens through which I am purging items for Lent.

That certificate had to go.

Please pray for me as I pray for you.

PS: God didn’t mess anything up. My Lent has been better than ever; that certificate wasn’t the only thing I’ve let go of.