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.

Radio

My longtime mentors and friends Johnny and Lorissa Horn interviewed me on their radio show Made for More from Salt and Light Radio in Boise. The interview was supposed to air last Friday, but a programming glitch forced a change. It should appear on the radio soon. If you would like, you can listen to the show by following this link.

Chopped

Wacky and exotic ingredients, extreme time limits, discerning judges, and creative dishes distinguish the Food Network show Chopped. On Tuesday, a group of friends recreated those elements in a heart-pounding, intense, and high-quality cooking challenge in the heart of Garden City, Idaho. Or something like that.

My first experience as a Chopped contestant took a more relaxed and friendly tone. There was no $10,000 prize for which we were competing (unfortunately), no utterly unrecognizable items in our baskets, and even the time limits were flexible. We had fun. We got to be creative. And we made four surprisingly scrumptious dishes.

First, for any unfamiliar with Chopped rules, the show goes something like this: Four contestants (typically professional chefs), three rounds (appetizer, entree, dessert), one basket the contestants open as the clock begins that has four ridiculous ingredients which must be included in the dish for each round (think octopus, duck, fennel, and animal crackers or halibut, Chinese celery, peperoni risotto, and orange drink mix). One contestant is eliminated each round (chopped), and one victor as determined by the three-person judging panel. On Tuesday, Megan, Kayla, Natalie, and I modified things. We only required three ingredients in our "baskets," our time was flexible, and we were our own judging panel.

In the appetizer round, Megan and I were given corn flakes, a can of Coors, grape jelly, and a half-hour. I thought I was sunk when I saw Megan go for the bacon, make a breading out of the beer and corn flakes, and start a pan with oil for frying. I mean, beer-battered, breaded, and fried bacon? How do I beat that? She topped it with a pineapple chipotle grape jelly dip. Not healthy, but savory, salty, and satisfying.

My first step was to use the beer with a box of corn muffin mix. Since we were making appetizers, I made mini beer cornbread muffins that I figured I would top with something to make a bite-sized portion. The mini-muffins went into the oven to bake. Then I grabbed protein from the same animal as Megan, but rather than smoky bacon, my choice was pork cutlets. I too went with a cornflake breading to fry the cutlets. My strategy was to go for bold flavors, so I put finely diced lemon rind in the breading. Beer in the bread, lemon in the meat, but how was I going to use the grape jelly? In truth, I almost forgot about it. With five minutes left, Megan reminded me about the jelly and even suggested I mix it with the creamy horseradish sitting on the countertop to make sauce with a bite for drizzling over my concoction. Her advice was excellent. The grape jelly-horseradish sauce was the crown my flavorful bite needed.

The finished product was a bite-sized beer cornbread muffin with arugula, cornflake-breaded pork cutlet and a touch of horseradish grape jelly sauce. The combination was a good mix of flavors, hot from the horseradish, hearty from the muffin, peppery with the arugula, bright and satisfying with the pork. Megan and I both smiled at our product.

After downing hors d'oeuvres we cleaned the kitchen to prepare for round two, the entree competition. Kayla and Natalie switched places with Megan and me. Their basket was filled with yellow squash, fresh ginger, and packaged kettle corn. I took more pictures of the process because I wasn't busy cooking.

Kayla at the stove.

Natalie prepping an Asian-inspired entree.

A sea of secret ingredients surrounding the chefs.

Natalie and Kayla sharing the range.

The ingredients inspired Kayla and Natalie in very different ways. Kayla made an eggplant curry with ginger, chicken, and squash, quinoa with kettle corn bits, and a garnish of fresh, lemony herb from her garden. Natalie used the squash to make ribbons that functioned like noodles and were infused with ginger, soy sauce, sesame oil, and Asian flavors. She topped that with beef medallions and a crunchy topping from the kettle corn. Two dishes, tons of textures and flavors, utterly unlike each other.

Yum. Fun. Friends. Three memorable ingredients amplified when found in combination. We resolved to do this again. In the mean time, we will continue watching Chopped and plotting our next plate. Anyone want to join in the flavors and fun?

Endings

I look at the photo above from my last evening in Sandpoint, and it seems appropriate for me to be riding away by horseback. We should have been playing this song:

June and July in north Idaho was pristine -- sun, warmth, green mountainsides, caring parishioners, early morning runs, hearty fish fries, lessons in parish ministry, small town friendliness. But as July closed and August began, Boise beckoned. I have until August 25 to spend with my family, and I am savoring that precious time.

First, though, I must recount some of my experience from St. Joseph. I tried to name the many activities in which I participated, and though I missed some, here are a few:

• Saw the documentary film G-Dog at the Panida Theater
• Attended my first barn dance
• Distributed communion to fifty-ish Catholics confined to their homes and assisted livings centers
• Ate four dinners at the Hydra Steakhouse
• Learned a number of funny jokes: the lawyer and the Czech refugee, Sam Clam and Freddy Fish, the three-legged dog, the mushroom in a bar
• Counted the Sunday collection for the first time
• Jumped from a forty foot cliff into Lake Pend Oreille
• Tried an air chair behind the Lewis boat on the lake
• Served at the smallest church in Idaho, Sacred Heart in Clark Fork
• Attended Steubenville Northwest with 15 teens and one youth minister
• Talked to Sandpoint residents at the Friday Soup Supper
• Caught six Kokanee salmon and ate them for dinner
• Lived in the rectory with Fr. Dennis
• Saw the daily function and life of a committed parish priest
• Photographed the distant views from the top of Schweitzer Mountain
• Flew in a four-seater plane above the surrounding area and steered the plane for the better part of a half-hour
• Won Tuesday Trivia at Mick Duff's
• Enjoyed the many parishioner offerings at the parish picnic
• Shot hoops at City Beach
• Devoured fish tacos and pork carnitas tacos at the Dover Dish
• Drove to Bloom Lake with Ed and Paula
• Lectored, Eucharistic ministered, altar served, greeted visitors, made announcements, and assisted at Masses
• Continued to ponder my vocational calling and the implications of God's will for my life
• Played the baby grand piano many afternoons
• Bought fresh produce at the Saturday Farmer's Market
• Sat beneath a better-than-the-city-could-have-done-it fireworks display for Independence Day at the Lewis beach
• Drove to Seattle and back for the funeral of a dear friend
• Saddled up to go horseback riding for the first time
• Went to the homes of a number of generous parishioners for dinner and conversation
• Attended Family Camp with about 70 Catholic households near Cascade
• Used a Crayola marker to draw 50 stars on a true American flag for Vacation Bible School
• Taught kindergarteners the Birdie Song during VBS
• Picked the tastiest blueberries of my life at Omodt Family's Shingle Mill Blueberry Farm
• Witnessed my first super moon
• Rode a red cruiser bike around town and down the road to Dover
• Met the people of God in Sandpoint and left thankful for the experiences and friendships forged during my short time there

The sum of these experiences is a renewed intensity for the life of the local parish. I value building relationships with people of all ages, sharing life over a sandwich at Spuds or a parking lot conversation after Mass. No matter how quirky we can be, the communal aspect of being Catholic is true to our call to communion, to church, and to love. In the intimacy of people's homes, at the bedside of the frail and elderly, on a boat motoring around the lake, from the peak of the ski hill above the city, on the walk back from Adoration and Reconciliation at Steubenville, in the moment a water balloon broke and gushed refreshment down my back, in the homemade treats crafted especially for Fr. Dennis and me, in God's embrace during the liturgy -- in all these places I witnessed Christ transforming me and transforming His people into God's image.

On this earthly pilgrimage, if we can invest in the minutiae and monumental moments with equal commitment and love, we are well on the way to a budding relationship with the Lord that will echo into eternity. Thanks to all those special individuals in Sandpoint for letting me share in that process this summer. I leave you with my favorite blessing, one which many of you have heard but which never grows tired.

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

and rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Fishing

My dad and brothers will be proud: I went fishing. Caught our limit: Six Kokanee Salmon. Cleaned them. Ate 'em for dinner. A good old fish fry. Yum.

Thanks to Doug for taking me out and earning me some respect in the family.

I ate all the fish before I remembered to take a picture, so all you get is the bones.