Thursday, October 24, 2013


Ever leave the confessional and feel the urge to jump back in line as the toddler picks just that moment to run off, only to scream bloody murder at the top of her lungs once caught, and you cringe inside because you see a few pinched faces around you?

Or attempt to pray after as part of your penance, and said toddler keeps running up to sit on the steps leading to the altar?

Oh boy...

I love Confession. I do. It's an odd thing really. I find the longer I go between confessions, the harder it is to go. A month is usually my limit before an internal dialogue something like this occurs:

"Nicole, you need to get to Confession."

"I don't know. Do I really need to go?"


"But I don't really feel like it."

"Since when do feelings come into play?"

"Whatever... But it's so hard to go."

"Seriously? You have Confession available to you every day. Just do it already."

"Ok, maybe tomorrow."

And then tomorrow comes, and you don't go, and the inner turmoil starts back up again.

Until finally, too many signs point to the fact that you need to go to Confession TODAY, and you go, and it's simple and "easy" (excepting the screaming toddler of course) and you feel so much better after.

I tell you, Confession is beautiful. It's such a lesson in letting go. As an adult convert, it takes much more gumption to confess sins to a priest than to an empty room at bed time, and to me, it seems so much more complete.

And, unlike many things in our culture, the more you go, the better off you'll be (hopefully).

So, in case I haven't yet made myself clear, as Father Z would say, go to Confession!

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