Making The Decision

The three lines in the church’s phone system where ringing off the hook. The doorbell was chiming its little heart out and children were crying up a storm in the waiting area. This was a typical evening at the church where I was the secretary. It was about six in the evening and I had a pile of paperwork to do in addition to a few special requests from the pastor. I complained sometimes about how hectic it was, but I pretty much learned to adapt to it and managed to stay somewhat sane for almost five years and do a pretty good job. But little did I know that this evening would be different and take my life in a completely different direction.

As I tackled the paperwork pile and adjusted a few things on a spreadsheet I was trying to finish up for the pastor, something happened. I just stopped working and out of nowhere a voice inside told me it was time to leave this place.

Mind you, I had discussed my feelings in the past with my friend Fr. Jorge, who was the associate pastor and also to my sister. I would tell them how I needed to find a job that offered more money and an opportunity to get a higher position. The only way I was going to advance from a church secretary here was to become a nun and that was definitely not going to happen!

I turned away from the computer screen and just stared at the plain empty wall. I then started looking around my office, the old computer and printer that seemed ancient. The old torn blue desk chair that I had sat on for quite some time and the damn telephone that never seemed to stop ringing. I looked out the window and noticed children playing and people walking in the warm August evening. They seemed so happy to enjoy the summer air and here I was stuck working in a job I loved and hated at the same time.

I should explain, I didn’t think my job was completely horrible. I did enjoy working with people from the community of Stone Park, which is dominantly Hispanic, were grew up. I was the first bilingual secretary at the church so I felt good being able to help people with their religious, personal and community needs. But the pay was lousy, the pastor drove me insane most days and I what can I say; it was a dead end job and I found myself very unhappy.

I considered leaving at that very moment and not looking back, but I consider myself to be somewhat responsible and felt it was just the wrong thing to do. I then did what I normally do when I need some type of guidance. I prayed to God, “Oh God please send me a sign that this is the right decision. If I don’t do this now I will convince myself to change my mind.” At that moment the telephone rang. I just stared at it and in my mind I said, “God, if that is my sister calling I will take it as a sign from you.” I answered the phone with a shaking hand and answered with an equally shaking voice, “St. Charles Borromeo Church, how may I help you?” The voice on the other end responded, “Hey what’s up? Are you busy?” It was my sister! I told her what I was thinking of doing and how she had been my sign from God. She laughed and also in disbelief of my decision told me how she supported my decision as long as it will make me happy. She even said how she was jealous and wished she could do the same thing from her job, but couldn’t at the moment. I hung up the phone and quickly turned to my computer and began writing my resignation letter to give my two-week notice.

My heart raced and my mouth was dry. I kept questioning