Last Thursday my family and I finally made it to reconciliation. We had tried to go a few times before, but something always happened.
You know those icebergs that always titanic your plans, sick kids, work, sick parents, work, forgetful moments and did I mention work? It is important to me that we all go as a family. My 4th grader still gets nervous as does my newly catholic husband. So we went to a church in a nearby parish to go to confession because like I said, it finally worked. I was unsure as to whether this was a service or not, irregardless experience has taught me (especially when it involves children) that you need to get in as quickly as possible. So, we positioned ourselves accordingly, at the end of the pew near the confessional. As we waited in the silent church we could hear the priests talking and laughing in the sacristy. My nervous 9 year old asked, "What is that?" I could not resist the opening and besides, I was going to confession in a few minutes, so I replied, "It's the priests in the sacristy. They are making their plans. I think that they are gunning for you. They are saying "Hey see that little girl in the silver vest, let's get her!" First her eyes got wide, then she just popped me in the arm with a "MOM".
As it turns out there was a service first, it was beautiful. Contemplative, concise and on a level that worked for both adults and kids. Then, it was confession time. On cue my husband darted from the pew and began the line down the side aisle. Turns out another line formed down the middle aisle. So, we would have to alternate. Immediately an elderly woman sprang from the center aisle and entered the confessional. It seemed like she was in there an eternity. My kids kept giving me concerned looks. I whispered to the woman behind me in line that I thought that in a service like this we were not supposed to go into a lot of detail and that if we had something heavy, we should make an appointment given that there are 25 people waiting. She smiled and shrugged. Ten minutes later the woman emerged, alternating in line, it was my son's turn. He opened the door for the "screen" side and stepped in. As he was closing the door a woman from the other line scooted into the "open" confessional. To avoid an unwelcome scenario, I opened the door and grabbed my son. Apparently taking turns doesn't apply when you are not on the playground. We then waited another 10 minutes. This time when the door opened my son, who is not usually a fast mover, set the record for getting into the confessional. From there things went smoothly until my daughter came out of the confessional. My husband and I were still in line. She plopped down in the pew across from us, sitting behind my son. She folded her arms and with a giant sigh said, "I am supposed to be nice to my brother!" My son dropped to his knees, folded his hands and looked up to heaven and said, "Thank you God!" She then stuck her tongue out at him.
The woman behind me in line (who was cracking up) said to her, "you'd better get back in line." I , too, had a hard time containing my self. Finally it was my turn, when I came out my daughter said (in a much too loud voice), "Gee mom, I thought that you'd be in there a lot longer than that!" The woman behind me laughed out loud as did the people behind her and my husband.
Having done our best with our sacramental duties we left before we created any other disturbances. Walking up the sidewalk, my son said, "Gees, It was like a Matrix movie trying to beat that lady into the confessional. That was it, I lost it.
I laughed to the point of tears.
Driving home my newly Catholic husband turned to me and said, "That was nice." I smiled and agreed. He said, "We should have kept the paper that prayer service was on." I smiled and agreed.
I said to him, "How did this make you feel?" He said "Good, it made me feel good." "Yeah", I said, "That's what confession is supposed to do." Then after a long moment he said, "I hope that lady that pushed Jesse out of the confessional, confessed that!" We laughed the entire way home.
As we enter into Holy Week, make it a point to go to confession, if you have not already done so. As my husband said, "It makes you feel good."
