Many years have passed, and I have lost many of the photos from my time at Saint Anne of the Sunset in San Francisco. Photos that, if I saw them today, would take me back twenty years to the cavern of my most cherished memories. While revered as one of the most prominent basilica-sized church structures in the Archdiocese of San Francisco, Saint Anne of the Sunset was very much a spiritual home for me.

I made many friends at Saint Anne of the Sunset. Its bright pink interior walls helped me come up with the slogan: Heaven is Pink.

Heaven is Pink is a collection of beautiful moments I shared with friends of Christ in San Francisco. Here are a few special memories from my time in San Francisco, which I still treasure and which are fitting to reminisce about on this feast day of Saints Anne and Joaquim.

When I was a young teenager, my grandmother taught me how to take the Muni train from her home on 8th Avenue, board the N Judah Train to 19th Avenue, and take the 29 bus up to Ortega Avenue so that I could be independent in getting to my music classes at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. Every train ride, I passed the prominent church structure, and on occasion I stopped in to say a prayer before the crucifix that remained perpetually lit in this massive church.

When I started my undergraduate career, I found myself once again in this basilica-sized church at 6:45 am. There was a small makeshift chapel off to the side entrance where Monsignor Thomas S. Merson celebrated Mass faithfully. He was a man filled with prayer and interior silence, often praying long periods of silence before the break of dawn as he presided at Eucharist. I did not know then that Monsignor Merson was the secretary to both Archbishop Quinn and Archbishop Leveda, making him a true churchman in his own right.

During my first year at San Francisco State University, I found myself looking for my first job as a church musician in the Archdiocese. The parochial vicar of Saint Anne of the Sunset invited me to bring my piano and provide contemporary music for the parish. It was a new adventure in a parish accustomed to esteemed hymnody and the pipe organ. I took the gig and began my professional career as a church musician in the San Francisco metropolitan area.

Six years later, I frequently visited the rectory of Saint Anne of the Sunset. During these visits, I met Bishop Daniel Walsh, the newly retired bishop of Santa Rosa. He returned to his childhood home in the Sunset district. He took residence in one of the many rooms of the parish rectory.

His presence struck me. He was serious yet cordial, and he always had a story to tell about his many years in ministry. Etched in my heart was the rhythm of rectory life. With a bishop as a companion, we gathered for Evening Prayer in the pastor’s suite. We had appetizers. Then we regularly moved to the dining room for dinner. It was a bond of brotherhood that sustained my love for Jesus during those years.

What struck me most was the bishop’s prayer life. One of his first initiatives was to convert an empty room in the rectory into a small chapel. The chapel included the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. As I woke up each day to make my holy hour, I found the bishop praying there. He came to the close of his hour and left quietly. When my prayer concluded, I often found him in the kitchen, and we would carry out some meaningful conversations.

I learned from Bishop Walsh the art of being a Master of Ceremonies for liturgies. He allowed me to serve him often, and I quickly learned from my mistakes. He was a great liturgical teacher in that sense. I am indebted to him for this gift. If there were another person worthy of mention, it would be my Franciscan companion: Sister Mary Peter.

Sister Mary Peter is a Religious who filled my vocation journey with much laughter and joy. She was a significant presence as she walked with me on the faith journey. We visited many parishes in the Archdiocese of San Francisco. Together we shared many happy memories over meals, coffee, and retreat projects.

My earliest memory of Sister Mary Peter was a summer day in the parish rectory. I stayed downstairs in the Jack and Jill room, shutting my eyes for a midday nap. I was roused out of bed as I heard the fire alarm go off. I ran out of the room. I saw a veiled nun in her brown Franciscan habit on a step ladder. She was trying to blow the smoke away from the fire sensor! I met someone who would mark my life with spiritual love.

Sister Mary Peter and I participated in the annual novena for Good Saint Anne, organized and staffed by the Redemptorists. During this novena, it was customary to pray for the invocation of the Holy Spirit. This took place after the Gospel and before the homily. With hands extended toward the ordained minister, the assembly sang. It was a tender song invoking the presence of the Holy Spirit as the Word was broken open for us. There with me, Sister Mary Peter, praying together, accompanying each other through the spiritual life.

It has been nearly ten years since I returned to Saint Anne of the Sunset. Yet, I know today it is still filled with the love and warmth of the prayers of many pilgrims. And on this day, they gather to be with the grandmother of Jesus to find hope in the City by the Bay.