by Fr. Steven Mills
I’ll start with the confession part of this story: I used to be a cafeteria Catholic. I thought it was fitting because my mother ran the lunch program when I was growing up at Lourdes Central Catholic in Nebraska City.
The saints were great in windows and in artwork, but they didn’t appeal to my day-to-day life. They weren’t real to me; their stories were antiquated, and their sacrifices seemed distorted to my young, selfish, sports-driven heart. I lived in the world and longed for the recognition it seemed to give.
I would enter college at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln (UNL), still searching for something more in this life. And every time I found success in this world, there was an emptiness in my heart that pined for something more. I slowly got more involved in my faith, but I never fully thirsted for it.
Upon graduation, my altruistic heart wanted to serve somewhere, maybe the Peace Corps, maybe Teach For America. But a friend placed FOCUS (Fellowship of Catholic University Students) on my heart, and I couldn’t let it go. And I am forever grateful for that. I became a FOCUS missionary and served for two years, at the Air Force Academy. And it was during that time that God revealed to me how real and how relational He is, and how He wants to break into our lives, even now.
I was staying at another FOCUS missionary’s apartment, crashing on the outdated couch. On the coffee table was a book about Padre Pio of Pietrelcina. I curled up to read the story of his life before going to bed. The next thing I knew, the sun was coming up and I couldn’t put the book down! It felt like I spent all night talking to a good friend.
Since that day, Padre Pio has been very close to me. This incredible man died in 1968 and was gifted by the Lord with an immense amount of suffering and numerous miraculous encounters. What I admire about him is that, although he has so many supernatural gifts that are well documented, this is a man who suffered greatly and bore it humbly. What saint are you close to?
Eventually I would enter the seminary, and in my first year at St. Charles Borromeo, we had a retreat given by Father Pio Mandato. This hermit from Scranton, Penn., was born in Pietrelcina and is related to Padre Pio. He told plenty of stories about the saint. When Father Mandato’s mother was pregnant with him, she asked Padre Pio—her spiritual director—what name she should give her child. Padre Pio told her to name him Pio. That was how she found out her unborn child was a boy! And that’s how Father Pio Mandato received the name Pio.
Father Mandato remembers receiving his first Communion from Padre Pio, and he remembers the man, later canonized a saint, emphasizing to him how important receiving the Eucharist would be. He remembers leaving Pietrelcina to come to the United States as a boy and hugging Padre Pio to say goodbye—and smelling roses.
My heart enlarged as I talked with him about Padre Pio. People alive today had encountered this saint that books of miracles are written about: stories of him reading hearts, bilocating, having the stigmata, healing person after person, and many more miracles. Padre Pio became a role model for me, for obedience and for surrender. I took his name as I was ordained a priest. I figured I would need some help figuring this out, like I did with Confirmation.
My first priesthood assignment was at the Cathedral of the Risen Christ. Whenever I would celebrate Mass with the students, I would end the homily with these words: “Be Saints!” It was a phrase the Holy Spirit had put on my heart as I randomly ended my first school Mass homily. Preaching to myself first, I needed to remember that sainthood is attainable for all us. That theme continued when I was assigned to the Newman Center at UNL, ending homily after homily with the reminder to be saints.
I want that. I want to get to heaven. I want to be a saint—maybe the patron saint of gangly priests, or pigeon-toed people or point guards. I know our Lord wants to bring forth saints from this diocese as well. We have so many gifts, both seen and unseen, that spring up amid the struggles of daily life.
I’ve been there. I’ve struggled. But a saint along the way helped me understand sanctity and suffering. He taught me how to unite those sufferings to the cross and to use the gifts that are given to us by God for the building up of His kingdom. Be not afraid to live a life that others may not understand. Be saints!
