It’s no secret that Catholic priests — and I imagine everyone fulfilling essential vocations in religious life — are incredibly stretched these days.

That’s why it’s so meaningful when a human being who has dedicated his or her entire life somehow manages to find time constantly to go beyond what can reasonably be expected.

That is exactly what Father Steve Popovich did.

My family got to know Father Steve when he became pastor at Immaculate Heart of Mary in Austintown years ago. He baptized both of my children there. My oldest son screamed throughout the entire sacrament service. I remember Father Steve, with his usual dry sense of humor, poking fun, claiming my son would go down as the loudest baby he ever baptized.

Once, when my family was invited to present the gifts to the altar, my youngest son, then a stubborn 4 year old, insisted on carrying something. Rather than argue with him during Mass, I handed him the empty Chalice and firmly whispered for him to carry it with TWO hands.

Instead, he scowled at me and walked up the church aisle, dangling the cup in one hand, swinging it back and forth.

Did I mention he was stubborn?

Father Steve met us at the front of the altar to accept the gifts with a smile and a chuckle. “It was only by the grace of God that he did not drop that,” he said.

When my young stepdaughter unexpectedly and tragically died, Father Steve was at our house immediately to comfort and pray with us. He stayed for hours and continued to check in for weeks and months to come.

Years later, when another parishioner experienced a similar tragedy, Father Steve contacted us asking that we reach out to the other family to offer any words of wisdom or comfort. That is how Father Steve operated. He always remembered and considered avenues in which either he could help or bring others together who could.

And when my husband was critically injured after a drunken driver crashed into his vehicle causing it to burst into a ball of flames, Father Steve was among the first to drive to the Akron Burn Center to hold our hands and pray with us.

My family sorely needed him then, and though he had hundreds of other families to serve in our parish, he never hesitated to make the hour-long trip to Akron to check on us and pray. You see, ministering was Father Steve’s gift.

Monsignor John Zuraw, vicar general of the Diocese of Youngstown described that gift well. “When he was talking to you, it was ultimately the attention that he gave; he wasn’t thinking about many other things, but he was thinking about how, in fact, that individual who he was talking to was the most important thing at that time,” Zuraw said.

Undoubtedly, it was those prayers that brought my husband through the years of painful recuperation and therapy that followed.

Then in 2013, Father Steve was on his way to minister at a local prison when he lost control of his vehicle on an icy road, crashing into a tree. He was left paralyzed from the waist down and with reduced use of both arms.

This man who had been so full of life, previously serving as teacher and Scout chaplain and spending free time weightlifting, motorcycle riding and attending Steeler games as a lifelong fan, suddenly was fighting for his life and viability.

For years to come, Father Steve resided and worked through challenging physical therapy at Windsor House at Liberty Health Care Center. He made it his home, and rather than just existing, he made it his mission, again, to serve others.

From his motorized wheelchair he ministered at the nursing home, praying with residents, celebrating Mass from a specially built altar and delivering last rites to residents as they passed. He also created a prayer garden there for a place of solace, and of course, he was loved.

Annalee Hutchinson of Liberty Health Care Center said, “He truly knew his calling, and he didn’t let his injury change that.”

After ministering for 42 years, Father Steve Popovich died Jan. 14 at age 69.

I’d say “rest in peace,” but I doubt he will be resting. Instead, I’m sure Father Steve is busy serving his God in Heaven.

blinert@tribtoday.com