When I started my new job six weeks ago, I took it as a given that I would have a manager. Due to some unfortunate timing (a cross-country move and a promotion), I began my position without both a manager and my manager’s manager. While usual protocol meant that I would be observing and training for a solid three to six months, this managerial void meant that I was expected to get up to speed, and fast. To be fair, the vacuum has meant that I’ve had unexpected opportunities to contribute and prove my value, but with these opportunities have come with a back-breaking sense of responsibility. I worry over the amount of work to be done: the things I know I need to do that I haven’t done, the things I don’t know I need to do that I haven’t done, and the protocols I’m bumbling through in order to keep projects chugging forward. And through it all is the overwhelming accountability—I am accountable for these projects and if it goes awry, it’s my fault because there’s no one else to blame.

Over a month later, I am still manager-less and still feel the anxiety of accountability. Of course, I knew there would be responsibility with my position—it’s inherent in any job you undertake. But I was unprepared for the scale I’ve experienced and how rapidly it became mine alone to carry.

Nearly twenty years ago, I felt this weight of responsibility under fairly different circumstances. In a white dress accessorized with lacy, fringed socks, I remember riding in the minivan to the chapel. My nerves jangled with equal parts excitement and dread. I knew this was a big day and my eight-year-old self was looking forward to seeing what life after being “born of water and of the Spirit.” I couldn’t shake the fear, though, that I would screw it all up. I had heard the word and could spell it out in my mind—soon I would be Accountable. Accountability loomed ahead on the other side of the font and I half-wished I could cut the pressure short and preserve my newly-minted purity eternally.

Looking back, I wonder how much I really understood about the covenants I was about to make. I’m still learning about what it means to bear one another’s burdens and to always remember Christ. Should I have understood more before I was baptized, before I entered into that covenant and took on that responsibility? At 24, I had to present well-reasoned arguments to my bishop about why I was ready to receive my endowment and why I wanted to go through the temple months ahead my wedding ceremony (not unheard of, but definitely not the norm). Why was it so much easier to be approved for an ordinance at 8 than at 24?

Like my position at work, I had a vague idea of what I was agreeing to and that the only way I would really know what the responsibility entailed was by taking the plunge (pardon the pun). Now, on the other side of both decisions, I find that accountability is a heavier burden to bear in practice than in theory. Which brings to mind the question of preparation—are children really ready at 8? And if they aren’t, how can we help them prepare through education and instruction, all the while relieving the pressure for them to follow the crowd and enter a covenant early that they’re unequipped to make? Unlike my current role at work, we need to be sure we are setting soon-to-be baptized members up for success so accountability, and the covenants that accompany it, are better understood before entering the font.

If I end up missing a deadline or dropping a task, I’ll be reprimanded at work. Worst case scenario, I’ll be so flummoxed and unable to onboard that I’ll lose my job. But it’s just a job. Covenants are a much weightier commitment to drop.

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Did you understand accountability when you were baptized? What would have helped you prepare for covenants better?