All Is Grace_ A Ragamuffin Memoir - Brennan Manning [32]
At the time, I was booked out for two years’ worth of speaking engagements, more than two hundred accepted invitations. Once my formal letter of resignation reached the archdiocese, all my speaking engagements were canceled. I was no longer welcome in the Catholic diocese in New Orleans. During that time, Roslyn was employed by one of the churches in New Orleans, working in their religious education program. She resigned before she was fired. All of this didn’t happen overnight, but it felt like it. Emotional time is often compressed. We were now the renegades, the traitors, the couple without a home, adrift from most family and many friends.
About six months later, with less than ten thousand dollars between the two of us, we got married. It was a small gathering in a friend’s home, and Dr. Francis MacNutt, a trusted colleague, officiated our ceremony. To my knowledge, the photographs contained in this book are the only ones that exist from our wedding. I remember the complete support of Roslyn’s mother, a beautiful woman who welcomed me with open arms. But I also remember that a few friends didn’t show up. They simply could not, in good conscience, be a part of approving our union. They weren’t the only ones.
James Kavanaugh’s words spoke to the weight of shame that a family would bear if their priest-son decided to marry. This held true for my family of origin. My parents and my sister did not attend our wedding ceremony; it was just too much. There is a part of me that cannot understand that, yet there is now another part that does. They had seen me go from budding scholar to soldier to seminarian to priest; I had reached a pinnacle, and now I was throwing it all away. But in a bold move that spoke volumes to me, something I will never forget, my brother showed up via train and surprised us a few days after the wedding. I will never forget Rob’s support in that way. He always was tuff.
Dr. Francis MacNutt officiating our wedding
After years of the celibate life, I was now married. I sincerely felt God’s approval of our marriage. The discernment process had helped me say, “We’re supposed to be together, Roslyn,” because God had said, “You’re supposed to be together, Brennan.” I didn’t believe it would be easy, but I did believe it was right. Added to being a husband, I was now a stepfather to two daughters, sixth-grader Simone and high-school freshman Nicole. I went from being Father Brennan Manning to father Brennan Manning. Most of my adult life had been spent in the close proximity of men—priests, brothers. Now I was living under the same roof with three women. Talk about being dazed; I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I cannot speak authoritatively for old dogs, but teaching middle-aged priests new tricks is quite the challenge. A fly on the wall would have seen me basically continuing to do what I’d always done—read, pray, observe daily Mass, write—just now in mixed company.
As I said, I was dismissed from the order and my tank full of speaking engagements suddenly went dry. A year into our marriage, Roslyn and I were down to about a thousand dollars in the bank, and tuition payments for the girls’ school were coming up. I didn’t know what to do, and the voices of shame and guilt were gaining steam. My desire to provide for my family was being thwarted. Those were days of learning the reality behind the phrase I’ve often used, “ruthless trust.” It’s something easy to say but much harder to live. But