I love Advent. I came fully back into the fold 23 years ago when I went to confession for the first time in 25 years. So many years. I thank God for the years he has allowed me. I see people “get it” when they are still basically in their youth, but I feel that with each year, I learn and understand a little more. The knowledge makes that 12″ trip from my head to my heart. Slowly. Very slowly.
Yesterday, I arranged my entire day so that confession was the focal point. I had to be at church by 4. When I got to church, I was amazed by the length of the line for confession. I stood in line and thought surely I would make it before the priest needed to say mass.
For the first time in my life, the person in front of me was the last confession heard that day. The priest came out of the confessional and just gave me a sort of look, like “too bad.” I actually went to the pew and knelt down and cried. I wanted to run out of the church and weep hysterically, but I didn’t. I checked my purse for Kleenex and realized that I could not “afford” to get out of control because I would be wiping my snot on my sleeves! It took nearly an hour to calm myself. And having stood in line for confession in front of the whole church, I thought it would be extremely tacky to receive communion, so I didn’t. I would not want to give scandal to another. (or as I was told in AA three thousand years ago, it is not only important that I DO the right thing, but that I am SEEN to be doing the right thing. Because like it or not, I am an example.)
I will go on Tuesday morning. It will be OK. It is good to know how much it means to me, because I truly did not realize it.
On Thursday, I will be heading to Montana to see my son and family. I have been knitting like crazy for them. My son mentioned last week “Mom, the kids hats are so small on them now, they look like yarmulkes.” Yikes. More yarn has been purchased and hats are being knit! I am sure I will be posting photos of mittens in the days to come.
The human being we are must realize that he is a wayfarer, a scout, hungering and restless. He is dependent upon an angel approaching and touching him with the wing stroke reminder of a higher message. — Father Alfred Delp, S.J. (a German Jesuit priest condemned to death by the Nazies in Berlin, Germany)