My first religion class was a memorable one. I was new to St. Joan of Arc school so this was my first time meeting Father Mike. He looked like he could be someone’s grandfather. When he walked into the classroom, the first thing he did was shake my hand (quite vigorously). Then, he said this: “They call me Mr. Wonderful. If you laugh at my jokes, you get A’s in my classes.” I sat in my chair, feeling shy. I didn’t know what to think of him.

His classes were hard work, and there were times I did not do so well. I and one other person flunked a quiz and then he told us to go get a piece of candy (I was amazed—what kind of teacher gives students candy after flunking a quiz?). His desk drawers were filled with bags of candy. He smiled and told jokes. I felt comfortable asking questions and everyone else did too.   He encouraged students to ask questions and he would make it seem like any question was a good question. I was beginning to learn about the Catholic Church, so I asked him questions often.  

I do not go to his parish, St. Joan of Arc, but while I was at the school, I went to the all-school Mass every week. He liked to have the students involved. I have been to many different churches, but I haven’t seen a priest act the way Father Mike does. He actually hugs his parishioners. Instead of just a handshake after Mass, everyone was greeted with a hug and a “How are you?” He liked to get to know his parishioners, students, and staff on a more personal level. I knew he cared. It was nice to know whenever I needed a hug, advice or someone to talk to, he was there.  

Father Mike could be serious, or he could be goofy. Children loved him. Father Mike was skillful at communicating. Whenever he would talk, he would speak clearly and make what he was saying understandable and he was not boring. It was clear he enjoyed talking to people. The skills he had were something I admired, wanted and needed. 

A few weeks before my eighth-grade graduation, I had a problem— one that was not easy to talk about. I was nervous to tell Father Mike, but there was no need to be. Father Mike did what he could to help me. Nobody had ever helped me like that before.

 I still have a relationship with Father Mike. He is the same funny, kind, and wise person he was before. I still ask for advice because I know he will do the best he can to help. He still gives some of the best hugs. 

Thank you so much, Father Mike, for your forty years as a priest, and for everything you have done for me, for the Church and for the whole world.