So today’s post is brought to you courtesy of the Catholic Women’s Blogger Network. It’s part of our monthly blog hop and I totally would not be writing it if it weren’t.
Because here’s where I peek out from under my somewhat ill-fitting Catholic blogger hat and admit that my true feelings about Confession are a mixture of guilt and discomfort. I hate that but it’s the truth.
I wrote the whole story here if you want to read it. When did I write it? A little over four years ago, which is the last time I went to Confession.
I can’t tell you how I long for the days when we were marched regularly into the cafeteria of St. Joseph School, with no advance warning or choice in the matter, and told that we were going to confession in the dark little closet where Father Henkel waited. I’d stand in a red plaid line, leaning against the radiator for warmth and secretly wondering about how long certain people were taking. Before I knew it I was all finished, back on the hard wooden kneeler saying two Our Fathers and one Hail Mary, and my soul was white as snow.
Clearly this is the Lent of hard things for me with lessons to be learned, and if I am really paying attention it would seem that this is one of them. Will I go to our parish’s upcoming Lenten penance service and find a friendly priest in the basement to hear my uncomfortable and unprofessional recitation of sins? Only time will tell.
To read more reflections on the Sacrament of Confession, click the image below.