I hadn't planned on going to confession today, or anytime in the near future. It's one of those things that I've put off for so long that I just didn't see how I could possibly go in there and blurt out "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been (INSERT LARGE NUMBER HERE) years since my last confession. Father? Father? Are you still there?"
No, the original plan was to take my eight year old daughter to her very first confession (or should I say penance?), a requirement for her to be able to participate in her First Holy Communion in May. My eleven year old son immediately volunteered to go as well, eager to unload his many sins. I figured we'd go, the kids would confess, I'd lend a supportive hand and then we'd all go home and watch my almer mater JMU play in the NCAA tournament.
When we got there we encountered a rather large number of fellow sinners lined up to cleanse their souls. I guess around Easter most Catholics get the confession itch and so the usually quiet church is filled with repentant parishioners. We hesitantly picked a seat, unsure of which line would move the fastest or which priest was hidden behind the closed doors. Ella immediately declined to wait in line for the makeshift confessional that had been included to accommodate the larger than usual number of confessors once she realized that it was a face-to-face set up. She wanted the anonymity of the screen. I don't blame her.
So we waited in a longer line for one of the private rooms. Jack tried his best to convince Ella to get in the faster moving line of the face-to-face confessional but she vehemently shook her head "no" until he finally gave up. They each clutched their cheat sheets of what they would say once they went in to see the priest. The top of Ella's sheet stated "Kneel" in her careful childish print, followed by a detailed script of what to say and do. When Jack noticed that the ladies on either side of us were reading books, he stated in a loud whisper "Maybe I should have brought a book to read too." I quietly pointed out to him that they were reading prayer books, not the latest bestselling novel.
As we waited and inched closer to the head of the line, I decided to go for it. It's now or never, I thought to myself. If I don't do this now, I'll never do it and I'll be setting a bad example for my kids. Why should they have to bare their souls while I sit in the pew and twiddle my thumbs? It didn't seem right.
Ella went first, then Jack, then me. What happened next stays between me and God, but let me just say I felt like a huge weight had been lifted when I stepped out of the confessional. My kids both gave me big smiles and scooted over so that I could kneel next to them. It was an unexpected bonding moment, unplanned, unrehearsed and unprecedented. It felt great.
Ella's already talking about when she's going to go to her next confession. Makes me wonder what she's got up her sleeve.
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