I was born into a large Italian—Roman Catholic family of five boys, raised in the Roman-Rite Catholic faith, and the traditions of my parents shaped our household, both products of the WWII generation. They instilled in us a strong work ethic, discipline, and a no-nonsense approach to family life. My father was the only one in his family born in the U.S., while my mother, the middle child of three, was entrusted with the responsibility of keeping a close eye on her older brother and younger sister.
I was born in Robbinsdale, MN—an anomaly in a family where all my brothers were born in Western Pennsylvania. I graduated from high school in a very small rural town in Western PA, after which, a few short years later, I relocated to South Florida. South Florida became my home, not just because of the places and friendships but also because it was where I matured and began the process of human and spiritual formation. My life in South Florida is marked by good and bad memories. Regardless of the time and distance, the relationships, the decisions, the outcomes, the career changes, and the professional and personal successes and failures I found in South Florida are and will always be a part of me. My experiences with diverse people and places helped forge my work ethic, high expectations, and moral standards. Yet, these same experiences also left me with scars that remind me of the emotional toll of a life fully lived.
When I moved to South Florida, I dove into life without hesitation. My career began in the travel industry, and my early years were focused on learning and achieving professional goals. Over time, I transitioned into the accounting and finance sector. My adult life was spent mainly in this profession, but God had a different path in store for me.
It would seem God had other plans for my life and took me to Steubenville, Ohio, and Franciscan University. A world and circumstances that I never imagined or even existed: studying philosophy and theology, attending daily mass, praying the Liturgy of The Hours and the rosary, contemplation, priestly discernment, and religious orders. God’s hand in my life was undeniable. Through my life experiences and the business world, I was led to Franciscan University, where I found myself face-to-face with God and Fr. Michael Scanlan. As my spiritual director for several years, Fr. Scanlan guided, directed, and helped me to understand proper and patient discernment of God and His will. My career in finance had unknowingly led me to a spiritual awakening.
My inspiration to write a book is undeniably rooted in God. This journey started long before I realized or even gave it any thought. A short time after, I discerned out of seminary during a phone call with a fellow graduate from Franciscan University. He suggested that I write about my journey with God, saying people will want to hear my story. My immediate response was a firm no. I had no desire to relive or share the painful, dark, and intense experiences up to that point in my life, I had at the hands of God. Those chapters of my life were too raw, too personal, dark, painful, and intense to share with anyone for any reason.
He suggested, “Set aside one hour a day to write.” I said I would give it some thought even though I felt no motivation to follow through. After several years and hundreds of miles later, the urge to share my story grew undeniable. It was not something I had planned or even thought about; it took me by surprise. It is a constant nudging, nagging placed on my heart and my soul, that I could not shake. Arguing with God, careful discerning and contemplation, asking myself, “Who would want to read my story? Who would even want to publish it?” I struggled and fought this impulsion, this idea, this feeling of a constant, nagging prodding at me, placing the idea on my heart and mind, unable to shake.
Eventually, after a few weeks, I began researching how to write a book, though I was still unsure why I was so driven. I recalled conversations with Fr. Scanlan, who told me more than once over several years, “Whatever God asks you to do, He will give you the peace and strength to do.” Those words rang in my ears as I wrestled with this call.
The book is not just a story—it’s my story, told in its rawest, most authentic form. It is about who I am in the eyes of God, no more, no less. I have struggled with the contradiction of wanting to share versus the resistance to share. I recall reading St. Augustine’s Confessions while in seminary, and I could not understand why he or anyone would want to share such intimate details of their personal life. The discomfort was overwhelming, and I told myself I would never do that—never put my life on paper.
I now find myself in the same emotional place I was in when I recall reading Augustine, but now, it’s my story to share. I am not St. Augustine, nor do I seek to imitate or compare myself to him. It is that same feeling now, that I felt then, the internal conflict, the tension between wanting to share, the compulsion or interior motivation to share at the same time, resisting and pushing back on that compulsion, as if in self-defense or self-preservation. The basic human desire for self-preservation is to avoid pain or danger at all costs. This book is about being honest—real and unapologetically authentically me, without holding back. It is my journey with God, about what God has done in my life and continues to do, even when I am not ready to share it. I do not seek attention or the focus on me but on God, what He has done, is doing, to and through me.
This book is the intersection of my life and God’s grace, the contradictions, the beauty, peace, darkness, confusion, and the pain. It is my journey, my story, no matter how difficult and uncomfortable. I feel compelled and called to share it, knowing that it is not about me but instead sharing a deeper meaning and purpose for sharing it.
