There are several questions that Cami and I are repeatedly asked concerning our journey into the Catholic Church. Questions that we can simply count on being asked. One of those questions is: How did you end up getting on the same page? Or some version of that question.
For us, this question has to be answered in two parts because there were actually two things we needed to agree on—two pages we needed to be on together. First, we needed to arrive at some kind of agreement about my growing desire (and need) to resign. Second, we would have to agree on which church we would be a part of after my resignation. It wasn’t going to work for me to stay in my denomination, where I would regularly be asked to fill in on Sundays around central and eastern Iowa. I needed a clean break from pastoral ministry. So, where would we go? What would we be?
In this installment, I’ll address the first matter—how we got on the same page regarding my resignation. But since both of these “pages” have as much to do with what was going on in Cami’s heart as they do with what was going on in mine, I’ve asked her to share some thoughts from her perspective, both here and in Part 17.
If you’ve watched any of the interviews I’ve done, you’ve likely detected a certain degree of ambiguity in my answer to the question about how Cami and I ended up agreeing that I would resign. You’ll detect that here as well. Charity and prudence require it. But that mostly concerns the end of this story. So, let me back up a bit.
Being a pastor was a blessing. I think I’ve written before that for most of my time as a pastor, I felt like I was doing what I was made to do. It played to my strengths, challenged me in my weaknesses, and gave me a great sense of fulfillment. I felt like a puzzle piece that had found the right spot.
As a pastor’s wife, Cami felt that way too—like she was doing what she was made to do. And she was good at it. Very good. The truth is, she was a far better pastor’s wife than I was a pastor. She could have been the poster child for what a pastor’s wife should be. Together, I think we made a pretty good team.
But the waves of burnout that eroded my sense of pastoral calling over time didn’t have the same effect on her. She was grief-stricken and tired, just as I was. More so in some ways. But she felt no need for such a dramatic life change. She had no desire to uproot and replant. For her, the tectonic plates of our calling in life had not shifted in the slightest bit. We were right where we were supposed to be, and we were there for the long haul. That was the plan. We both knew it. I had simply lost sight of it.
So, what changed?
There are two complementary answers to that question. One of them concerns a gradual change that took place. The other concerns a near-instantaneous change. I’ll start with the gradual.
For the better part of four years, Cami and I struggled together through the events I’ve called the four waves of burnout. They impacted both of us deeply, but they didn’t impact us identically. In addition to the loss of family and friends and the burdens that accompanied those losses, I was feeling the loss of my internal call to ministry. This wasn’t something she could understand at first, but she had a front-row seat to its effect on me.
For many months, even years, I had been putting on a veneer every time I left home. But Cami saw what that veneer was hiding. She saw the exhaustion, the pain, and the despair lurking beneath the surface. Here’s how she describes the last few months of that period of time and how her heart gradually changed…
I’m not sure I can pinpoint exactly what changed in me. I think it was just a process of refining that God was doing in me. For the most part, I didn’t even realize it was happening. It was a slow process over a few months. He was teaching me in my losses, in my trials, and in my brokenness to trust Him and to lean into Him. He was teaching me how to surrender my will to His. Asking me to say yes to Him and to do what He asked, no matter how difficult it was. And it was difficult. Eventually, I did say yes. Lots of tears were shed in the process, but I did what He asked. It was the hardest thing. We had to walk away from so many of the things we loved—our church family, our friends, and our ministry. But I trusted Him.
Thinking back on the months before that decision, I wasn’t oblivious to Aaron’s struggle. I’m just not sure I knew how to process it, in light of everything else I was going through. I was still pretty raw from the loss of my mother in June. My sister had fallen just prior to losing my mom and had broken an elbow and some bones in her hand. She had to spend a few months in rehab, so I spent a lot of time running back and forth between her nursing home and my mom’s nursing home. I was definitely running myself ragged.
Meanwhile, Aaron was trying to pick up my slack. He helped me navigate the unfamiliar waters of guardianship for my sister, he handled all the calls that had to be made after my mom died, and he was even still dealing with a lot of stuff from my dad’s passing two years before. And all of this was on top of his responsibilities at the church.
We were both trying to keep too many plates spinning. We were both overwhelmed. We were both emptying ourselves into a lot of different things, and nothing was filling us up. You can’t do that for very long before you crash, and that’s what we were both about to do.
Of course, men and women deal with this sort of thing differently. Aaron has kind of always just been a rock, but I could see he was really struggling. I just wasn’t sure how to help him. I’m very emotional in a crisis, but I’m also a fixer. I try to find solutions, and I forget about just being there. I struggled to help him. He was just trying to make it through each day. Through each next task. Things that had never been difficult for him had become very challenging. It took what little he had left just to fulfill his responsibilities. He had lost his joy for the things he’d always loved, and that was hard to see. It left me unsure what to do.
I was flailing a little bit in this new role. I’m not used to being the strong one. I remember breaking down at one point when I was feeling pulled in so many directions, and crying out, “Why is all of this happening?” But Aaron said, “Let’s pray and ask God.” (And there he was, being the rock I needed)
God answered my prayer the next day in my devotions and helped me to understand what He was doing in me. How He was refining me through trials. This helped me see that Aaron needed a change, that I needed to surrender my will to God’s will, and that I needed to trust Him with what came next.
It’s not that leaving the church and ministry is what either of us wanted. We expected to be there until we retired. But it became clear that something had to change for Aaron. We loved our church. We loved the people. They were our family and closest friends. This would be a huge loss for all of us. But we knew we needed to step away. It was necessary for Aaron’s well-being. It was necessary for our well-being. You can’t keep giving when you have nothing left to give. This was also necessary for the good of our church family. They deserved to be cared for, too.
The truth is, we were both running on empty, even if I hadn’t realized that yet. Once we stepped away, I realized how exhausted I was, too.
As those many months crept by, I wasn’t aware of Cami’s gradual change of heart. I think there are three reasons for this. First, I was too consumed by my own struggles to notice. Second, she didn’t come right out and tell me. Third, she wasn’t fully aware of how she was changing either. So, when I finally became aware of it, it seemed instantaneous to me.
Shortly before we left for vacation in the fall of 2024, I became aware of something in the church that would require my time, attention, and energy when I returned home. But by that point, I had no reserves of any of these three resources. Now, this information wasn’t anything confidential, so I told Cami what I’d just learned, and what would be awaiting me after vacation.
She asked, “And what does that do for you?”
“Nothing good,” I answered.
To which she replied, “Well, maybe this is your exit ramp.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Up to that point, she hadn’t given voice to the possibility of my resigning. Not to me anyway. After I picked my jaw up off the floor, we talked for a little bit, and she brought me up to speed on some of the things she’d been thinking and feeling, and how the Lord had been leading and growing her. We decided that our trip to Florida would be half vacation and half prayer and discernment.
Here’s Cami again…
My eyes had definitely been opened to Aaron’s intense struggle and his need for change. So, when I heard what was waiting for him after vacation, I knew it was his exit ramp (as he likes to call it). God had made it easy for me to discern what He was calling us to do. So, I told Aaron, “I think this is it. I think this is your exit ramp.” I think he might have been surprised when I said that. [I was! – Aaron]
We made the decision on the beach in Florida. It was the hardest decision we ever made, but I knew in my heart this was how God was leading us. Oh, I had moments of uncertainty along the way. More tears were shed. But God, in his kindness, kept showing us the next step forward. He kept reassuring us that this was the path, and He kept calling us to trust Him. It was a difficult path, but it was the path He wanted us on. He hadn’t stopped leading us. He was always with us.
I still have moments where I think, “Can You show us more?” But He is a faithful God. He loves us dearly and has never let us down. I can rest in that knowledge, even if it is the most unlikely path, and one I could never have dreamed of. We often can’t see very far ahead, but I love this path. And I love Him more and more each day for this good gift He has given us.
So, that’s how it happened. That’s how Cami and I ended up on the same page regarding my resignation. In Part 17, she and I will tell the story of how we found ourselves on the same page regarding the Catholic Church.
*******
Thank you for your continuing interest in my (our) story. Since I currently have a lot less work to do on my book, I plan to add to this series more regularly and hopefully bring it to a kind of conclusion in another six to eight installments. Ten at the most. After that, I’ll have to see what the Lord lays on my heart.
May the Lord bless and keep you all.
Gloria in excelsis Deo
Aaron and Cami
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