Huddle

I haven't been around much lately, but I promise I will return soon. The start of soccer season involves endless detail work -- rosters, uniforms, league fees, player cards, field painting, scheduling, and lack of free time. But I have adventures to share about pastors having the "stench of the sheep," seeing Shakespeare performed in Ashland, and the inaugural game of our season, a four-all tie with Willamette in dreary rain and blustery conditions this afternoon. For now, you must be content with this photo taken as our team huddled to conclude the afternoon. Until we meet again...

"Pink"

I discovered inspiration in a strange place tonight: An obituary of a woman I never knew. I happened to click on a friend's Facebook post, and the story of Mary A. "Pink" Mullaney sounded like a cross between my nurturing, crazy Aunt Jackie, my faithful, holy friend Lorissa, and many other characters I have the privilege to know. I hope you enjoy the tale of "Pink's" life as much as I did.

If you're about to throw away an old pair of pantyhose, stop. Consider: Mary Agnes Mullaney (you probably knew her as "Pink") who entered eternal life on Sunday, September 1, 2013. Her spirit is carried on by her six children, 17 grandchildren, three surviving siblings in New "Joisey", and an extended family of relations and friends from every walk of life. We were blessed to learn many valuable lessons from Pink during her 85 years, among them: Never throw away old pantyhose. Use the old ones to tie gutters, child-proof cabinets, tie toilet flappers, or hang Christmas ornaments.

Also: If a possum takes up residence in your shed, grab a barbecue brush to coax him out. If he doesn't leave, brush him for twenty minutes and let him stay.

Let a dog (or two or three) share your bed. Say the rosary while you walk them.

Go to church with a chicken sandwich in your purse. Cry at the consecration, every time. Give the chicken sandwich to your homeless friend after mass.

Go to a nursing home and kiss everyone. When you learn someone's name, share their patron saint's story, and their feast day, so they can celebrate. Invite new friends to Thanksgiving dinner. If they are from another country and you have trouble understanding them, learn to "listen with an accent."

Never say mean things about anybody; they are "poor souls to pray for."

Put picky-eating children in the box at the bottom of the laundry chute, tell them they are hungry lions in a cage, and feed them veggies through the slats.

Correspond with the imprisoned and have lunch with the cognitively challenged.

Do the Jumble every morning.

Keep the car keys under the front seat so they don't get lost.

Make the car dance by lightly tapping the brakes to the beat of songs on the radio.

Offer rides to people carrying a big load or caught in the rain or summer heat. Believe the hitchhiker you pick up who says he is a landscaper and his name is "Peat Moss."

Help anyone struggling to get their kids into a car or shopping cart or across a parking lot.

Give to every charity that asks. Choose to believe the best about what they do with your money, no matter what your children say they discovered online.

Allow the homeless to keep warm in your car while you are at Mass.

Take magazines you've already read to your doctors' office for others to enjoy. Do not tear off the mailing label, "Because if someone wants to contact me, that would be nice."

In her lifetime, Pink made contact time after time. Those who've taken her lessons to heart will continue to ensure that a cold drink will be left for the overheated garbage collector and mail carrier, every baby will be kissed, every nursing home resident will be visited, the hungry will have a sandwich, the guest will have a warm bed and soft nightlight, and the encroaching possum will know the soothing sensation of a barbecue brush upon its back.

Above all, Pink wrote -- to everyone, about everything. You may read this and recall a letter from her that touched your heart, tickled your funny bone, or maybe made you say "huh?"

She is survived by her children and grandchildren whose photos she would share with prospective friends in the checkout line: Tim (wife Janice, children Timmy, Joey, T.J., Miki and Danny); Kevin (wife Kathy, children Kacey, Ryan, Jordan and Kevin); Jerry (wife Gita, children Nisha and Cathan); MaryAnne; Peter (wife Maria Jose, children Rodrigo and Paulo); and Meg (husband David Vartanian, children Peter, Lily, Jerry and Blase); siblings Anne, Helen, and Robert; and many in-laws, nieces, nephews, friends and family too numerous to list but not forgotten.

Pink is reunited with her husband and favorite dance and political debate partner, Dr. Gerald L. Mullaney, and is predeceased by six siblings.

Fear

Fear seizes me sometimes. I might not identify the fear or call it by name, but at moments, I fear the obstacles before me. I fear loneliness. I fear restlessness. I fear foregoing my ambitions. I fear the disapproval or disappointment of others. I fear losing control.

This time at Mount Angel directs my gaze at those fears. The Lord stands alongside me and beckons me to humble myself, to acknowledge the presence of worldly passions, to allow the Holy Spirit to gently melt that which delays and prevents revelation and self-mastery. In this inner struggle toward holiness, I have an anthem. My alarm each morning is set to this song, and its message echoes through my waking hours.

The song is I Shall Not Want by Audrey Assad. In it, she blends the Litany of Humility with the well-loved line from the twenty-third psalm.

I tend to be serious in blog posts, but in reality, I'm not that way most of the time. I make wise cracks and use sarcasm. I laugh with brother seminarians. I enjoy my time here. Yet even humor can be a crutch disguising discomfort at the formation process. When I am forced to reflect on how I spend my time and prioritize life, I can grow uncomfortable. That's the nature of growth. Growth is not putting giftedness to use and laughing all the way. Growth confronts weakness, inaccuracy, and ignorance and asks how to burn it away. Matthew Kelly emphasizes the creation of habits to teach virtue, to stimulate growth, to give individuals the impetus to become the best version of ourselves. Cultivating healthy, life-giving habits necessarily entails the confrontation of fears.

At Mount Angel, I meet every other week with a Formation Director assigned to me. We examine my life from a number of aspects -- spirituality, sexuality, academics, physical wellbeing, social life, discernment, discipline. From our meetings, my formater brings his impressions to the entire formation team -- the president-rector, vice rectors, formaters, and staff that participate in the process. And they make recommendations to my local bishop and vocations directors on my continuing formation. When I get to the end of the year, this group of people will decide whether I am fit to begin more intensive and focused theological studies. At the end of the formation process, this group makes a final recommendation as to whether an individual is adequately prepared for ordination to the priesthood.

I say this because in our current world, many Catholics and many non-Catholics are concerned that priests are not sufficiently screened or prepared to be celibate, chaste, holy, competent leaders for God's people. In my experience, the Church is doing everything it can to find the right people and equip them to shepherd parishes and people. Each day I am part of a rigorous program that examines my fears, keeps me busy, fills my mind with the knowledge and training I need, and pushes me beyond barriers to personal growth.

No matter how my journey ends -- in ordination, in realization of lay vocational calling, in mission, at peace -- this time at Mount Angel Seminary will be an immeasurably valuable time of reflection. I feared coming to seminary, and I still have trepidation about being ordained as a priest. But I no longer fear where this time will lead. God cares for me. The Lord has an end meant expressly for my life, and it will bring about my deepest joy. I experience peace reflecting on that reality. Fear fades. I taste God's goodness. And I shall not want.