Mustang Messenger Spring 2014 | Page 28

home office. His surprise at my situation, you see, was heavily related to my upbringing. I was raised amidst tremendous social and economic strife and upheaval that accompanied the late 1960s and 1970s. I witnessed drugs, gangs, and all other sorts of corruption that can take hold of the human soul. My brother and I had also suffered the loss of our mother, who committed suicide in 1971. I made it out, though, thanks in large part to Bishop McNamara High School. By the time I showed up on the doorstep of Bishop McNamara, following my older brother, I can only describe myself as a broken young man. I grew up in a violent, ugly time, and had been through very difficult circumstances. I was angry and, largely, emotionally shut off. It would have been very easy to succumb to the pressures around me, and to throw my life away to crime, drugs, and violence. As a freshman at Bishop McNamara, I found some things that had been sorely lacking in my life: kindness, compassion, and the Holy Spirit. If not for the teachers and Holy Cross Brothers of Bishop McNamara recognizing my struggle and caring for me, by the grace of God, my life could have gone in an entirely different direction. For the first time in my life, I had sanctuary