Mea Culpa

I was just invited to a Catholic blogger group on ye olde FBe. 
I had qualms about accepting the invite, initially, 
because le blog can be a bit scandalous at times. 
And this group is made up almost entirely of moms. 
We have TONS in common.

 A quick Google found some young Catholic blogs, 
but not many. 
And none that spoke to my drollery.
There are some great Catholic tumblrs out there, 
but not really any bloggy blogs, with words and stuff. 
While I'm not offering myself as the filler of that internet hole, 
I could try a little harder to be one of those young, Catholic bloggers.

Stolen, but applies to me, quite perfectly. 

 In an attempt to make my blog Catholic-er, 
and in honor of the penitential Lenten season, 
I will tell you about my non-First Reconciliation: 

Many years ago, I was but a small, second grade pup
preparing for my First Reconciliation. 
This was the sacrament right before the Big One--First Holy Communion. 
That's the one we were all interested in. 
Obvi, I recognize the incredible importance & necessity of Reconciliation now, 
but I was a wee one then, with little to no patience or humility. 
At that point, I just wanted to get it over with & get to the good stuff.

There being two second grade classes at our little school, 
we had multiple priests hearing our confessions. 
As soon as we lined up, the nerves hit & we all started whispering the Act of Contrition. While the teachers had spent countless hours teaching us 
how to make a good confession, 
second grade brains are made of fluff, which doesn't retain much. 

I walked into that tiny room and developed cotton-mouth and cotton-brain.
No one told me my confession would be face to face. 
No one told me my confession would be with the elderly priest who had had a stroke.

I began my confession, staring at a spot on the wall 
immediately to the left of the priest's head. 
I sped through my part and felt pretty good. 
Then he started speaking. 
Except, because of the stroke, I could not understand a word he said.
I almost cried. 

 

That might have been the most profound confession I've ever had, 
but I'll never know. 
As soon as he paused for a decent length of time, 
I recited my prayer and got out of there. 

I had no clue what my penance was. 
For good measure, I think I remember saying every prayer I knew, 3 times. 
To this day, I do not feel like I had a First Reconciliation. 

Confession still makes me anxious, 
partly because of the humility and guilt that goes along with it, 
but also because it brings back memories from that first time. 

There ya go. 

You've just been Catholic-ed.