Introduction:
Some stories feel like living parables — ones where God’s hand, though sometimes hidden, is unmistakably present. The story of Fr. Francisco Sunderland, one of the newest priests in Rye, is exactly that: a testimony of faith, sacrifice, and God’s relentless pursuit of souls through generations.

A Legacy of Sacrifice

About 70 years ago in Mexico, a young woman was faced with an impossible decision. The doctors told her, “The possibility of you dying is very, very high if we don’t abort the child.” But this holy Catholic woman looked the doctor in the eye and said with peace and courage, “Of course, I will not do that.”

She entrusted her life to God, laid it down, and died giving birth to a son — who would become Fr. Francisco’s father. Her son lived, but he would grow up in an angry and distrustful household, far from faith. He married and wanted as little to do with the Catholic Church as possible.

But little did he know — though his mother had died, her prayers and presence would never leave him. A mother’s work is never done.

A Child’s First Encounter with the Presence of God

Thirty years later, in Mexico, that son had a little boy named Francisco. At just two years old, while walking in a beautiful park with his mother, he spotted a little chapel and asked, “Mama, what is that little house?”

She took him inside and explained gently, “Those benches are for kneeling, and do you see that golden box at the end of the hallway? God is there.”

With innocent awe, little Francisco knelt. But only moments later, he stood, walked outside, and approached some middle school boys leaving school. He tugged one boy’s sleeve and led him into the chapel. “Kneel down,” he commanded, then pointed to the tabernacle and said, “There’s God.”

The older boy’s face showed understanding, and young Francisco did it again, finding more boys and bringing them in.

His mother watched in astonishment — and fear. She quickly grabbed him and took him home. In their hearts, both his parents were terrified. The idea of their son becoming a priest was almost as frightening to them as death itself. They would do everything they could to prevent it.

 

From College to the Collar

When I spoke with Fr. Francisco, I had to ask: “How in the world did you become a Legionary priest when your family was so against it?”

I could feel him smile over the phone as he shared, “Finding the Legion was unexpected. At 21, I was finally independent — in college, doing well, with great grades and wonderful friends. But after confession one day, standing outside this beautiful mountaintop church overlooking the valley, I asked myself, ‘What am I doing here?’ I didn’t want to be an engineer. I wanted to be a priest. And I knew I had to act.”

So he began preparing to enter the Jesuits. But before leaving home, he went back for one final weekend — only to find his mother in tears.

“Do not go with the Jesuits!” she cried.

Assuming this was yet another expression of resistance, he told her gently, “We’ve been over this, Mama. I’m going to become a priest.”

But she wept harder and handed him a piece of paper. “I know you will be a priest,” she said, “just not with the Jesuits. Go with these Legionaries of Christ instead.”

He glanced at the paper, and his jaw dropped. The name on it was familiar. “Mama… this is the priest Papa threatened to kill if he ever came near me!”

We both laughed at the moment in our conversation, but he explained how, years earlier, a Legionary priest had contacted their home after hearing of his possible vocation — and was met with threats from his father.

The Gentle Work of the Holy Spirit

Despite his plans to join the Jesuits, Fr. Francisco couldn’t ignore the tug in his heart after meeting the Legionaries. He prayed to the Holy Spirit for guidance for the first time in his life. During a difficult meeting with the Jesuit superior, he realized God was calling him elsewhere. The peace and joy that followed confirmed it. He entered the Legionaries of Christ that summer.

It was all so perfectly timed — undeniably God’s grace.

During my Legionary internship in Mexico, just before returning to Rome, I planned a family visit. My grandmother was in the final stages of emphysema — cruelly losing breath and strength.

I called my mom from Mexico City, and she urged, “She’s not well… maybe come now.” I received immediate permission and went.

When I arrived, my mom gently told my grandmother, “Look who’s here.” In a raspy whisper, my grandmother looked at me and said, “The Father.” It was both strange and moving.

For three days, I sat by her side, doing what little I could to comfort her. On the third morning, I heard her vent anger and bitterness. Gently, I asked, “Grandma, don’t you want to go to confession?” She replied, “That’s what I’m doing.”

I told her I wasn’t a priest yet, but I could get one. To my surprise, she agreed — something she’d always refused before. I found a priest who came immediately, heard her confession, and gave her the last sacraments.

I left that afternoon. The next morning, my mom called: my grandmother had passed away — in peace.

I can’t help but link that moment to my vocation. Maybe God allowed me to be there so He could save her soul, or maybe He called me to the priesthood because of her prayers and His love for her. Either way, it’s just one more example of how God works: if you give Him even a little bit, He responds with unimaginable generosity

God’s Call Is Stronger Than Fear

Fast forward many years: After serving in Rome, Mexico and Germany, Fr. Francisco Sunderland currently resides and serves us here in Rye, where he has been for two years. During the week, he works with the seminarians in Cheshire, and on weekends, he goes wherever he’s needed.

A few weekends ago, the Ladies in RC NJ had the honor to have him preach their Women’s Triduum of Renewal. I encourage everyone to listen to those recordings — but be sure to listen in order! His words paint vivid pictures, and his clever storytelling keeps you wondering what he will say next!  

 

I asked, how his parents have changed since his priesthood.

“My father has had a complete conversion!  My mother’s change of heart has been a slower burn but steadier growing and has a very deep faith.  We all come to God differently.” 

He relates this exchange:

There was one conversation with my mom that I’ll never forget. She was crying on the phone with me, asking forgiveness — not just for one thing, but for all the mistakes she and my dad had made with me and my siblings. She said, “We made so many mistakes with you… and with your brother and sister.”

I told her, “Mom, listen. First of all, God makes everything work out for good. And second — when you made those mistakes, did you ever do them out of bad intentions? Did you ever try to hurt us?”

She said, “No, of course not.”

I said, “See? You acted out of love. You just didn’t always know how to be a parent. You didn’t have experience. But God is counting on our mistakes. He can even bless them. The only thing He won’t bless is sin. But mistakes? He works through them. The only thing He asks is for sincerity and love. And you did love us sincerely.”

I didn’t realize I was going to end up giving my mom spiritual direction that day! But it was a beautiful conversation.

God’s Hand Through Generations

This story is a powerful reminder: God’s plan unfolds through generations. A grandmother’s courageous sacrifice. A child’s innocent recognition of His presence. A mother’s change of heart. And the Holy Spirit’s quiet, persistent call.

A mother’s work is never done — and neither is God’s.

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