First of all... thanks Jackie for the e-mail, titled "Write, Sister". I thought of it the other day, but then I threw that idea right out the window... "Who wants to read it?" Well, I guess I know I have 1 follower, at least! Thanks for reading, Jacks!
On the ride to work today, I was listening to a CD. The speaker had spoken at the Magnificat Women's Conference, which is held locally. I love to go, but haven't made it for the last few years.
The speaker is a father of 4. He was talking about praying with his children at night. He said that each evening they pray, "Father, make of us a saint, no matter what the cost." It made me a little emotional.
No matter what it costs?
I think I'm a little afraid to pray for that. You see, I want to be a saint, too. And I want my children to be saints. I want us all to be more holy, because it will bring us closer to Jesus. But I often think, "that's not possible for me." Yet, I have learned so much from the lives of the saints, and many of them were ordinary people like me.
I'm just a little afraid. I know that I hold back what God deserves to have. And I think I do it because I am afraid. I'm afraid where God might take me. I guess I have trouble trusting my heavenly Father, who loves me the most. What a strange thing. I know He is in control, and here I am, still trying to hold onto my own sense of control.
Sometimes when I pray, I gather the courage to say, "May Your will be done in my life." And then, it's like I'm waiting... for the thunder. I, who have been so blessed in my life, am still afraid to fully trust in God.
And then while eating supper tonight, I had an epiphany. I was thinking... "Where have I heard that phrase before?" Your will be done.
Every single time that I have said the Our Father, I have asked that His will be done.
Our Father who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
They kingdom come
Thy will be done
On Earth as it is in heaven....
I have said that prayer a thousand times. Now I will mean it when I say it!
Monday, September 30, 2013
Friday, August 2, 2013
Quit Stinkin' Thinkin'
This is me. I know that there is a battle going on in my brain daily, and I am my own worst enemy. I conjure up old memories and agonize over the wrong things that I have done, or the things that I wish I could do over. I went to the prayer meeting on Monday evening and this was the line that really struck a chord, "Quit Stinkin Thinkin"! I laughed out loud when I heard it. This fits me perfectly. I've been doing some "stinkin thinkin" lately. On occasion, I drive myself crazy with my "stinkin thinkin".
So let me say before I go any further, please forgive me if I have ever offended you by the dumb things I have said without thinking. I don't want to be that way, but I am. I am so far from perfect.
So to humor you, I'm going to let you in on some of my recent "stinkin thinkin". (Part of why I'm sharing this with you is so you will know you're not as bad as you thought you were!!)
* One time my brother-in-law was venting to Doug about his job, and after listening, I blurted out, "I love my job". (I know...great timing, great consideration. Where's the love?)
*Some of my high school girlfriends will remember this one. One evening we were out at the bars, and I was already dating Doug at the time. A guy or two hit on me that evening, probably not in a very appropriate way. I was getting annoyed. The next guy who said something to me really got it. He just said something... I don't even remember what, actually I don't even think I heard him. I turned around and said (and I'm really embarrassed to share this) "Run away squirrel!" OMG - what was I thinking? Turns out, this guy was just striking up conversation and he happened to be a very nice guy. Me, not so nice. The look on his face made me wish I could take it back a thousand times. He was hurt.
* When I was younger and I worked at the Dairy Dream, we were always bustin' butt to get out of there on weekends so we could go out. We had just closed up and there was a woman in the drive-thru with her 4 little boys. She ordered cones for them. I was so annoyed that she was there after closing time, but I made the cones. When I brought them back to her, she said, "oh, I wanted them in cups". I gave her a dirty look and spoke in an unfriendly tone. I didn't realize till later, that she probably did order them in cups... I was just in too big of a hurry to get out of there, that I didn't bother to listen. Selfish!!!
* When I was in the 8th grade, our student council did a fundraiser for Valentine's Day. You could order a flower and they would deliver it for you. Most people did it anonymously. There was this boy in my class who made fun of me all the time. He made me so mad. SO MAD! I didn't realize till later, that that is an 8th grade boy's way of saying, "I like you." Apparently he had ordered a flower for me and they came to deliver them during gym class. I can't remember why, but I wasn't in class that day. When they delivered flowers, they must've forgotten the one he ordered for me. No big deal for most people, but he threw a fit in front of the whole class (or so I was told). So now, everyone knew that he liked me. I was so embarrassed when my friends told me this. To top it off, he and his friend came up with a new nickname for me that day, "canyon." Yes - we were in 8th grade. It had something to do with my chest.(although I had nothing going on there whatsoever at that time... well, as a matter of fact, I still... um, never mind... not going there). Anyway, I was livid by the end of the day. We had lockers right next to each other. I opened my locker, and the flower had arrived. I was so mad that I grabbed that flower and walked over to the trash can and stuffed it in... right in front of him. Then I stormed off. I regretted that one immediately, too. I think he forgave me, because he still had a crush on me in high school. Poor guy.
I could go on and on.
But there is an up side to these stories. Through the "stinkin thinkin" discussion, I have come to realize that I am not defined by a few stupid things that I've said or done in my past. That is not who I am. That's why I need to leave it in the past. When I stand before God, he is only going to see his daughter. And He will love me the same as he loves you, your friend, the homeless guy, or the millionaire. I know this even more, because I have children of my own. It has really helped me to understand my relationship with God. I love my children equally. I will never stop loving them. They cannot do things to make me love them more. They cannot do things to make me love them less. There will be times when I will be proud, and there will be times when I am disappointed. But I will always love them the same.
Furthermore, love is not an emotion. There are emotions attached to loving someone, but love itself is not an emotion. Sometimes you do have to work at it. But in perfect love, you can't just stop loving someone. You just love them, because you do. And God won't stop loving us. He just loves us. It's that simple.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Having a Good Friend
Sometimes I feel bummed about how some of my close friendships have dwindled over time. As you get older, things change... your schedule changes, your responsibilities, and especially your availability. I hate that I don't have the carefree timelessness that I used to have, where I can sit and talk and listen and not feel like I have to run off and get the next thing done. Doug and I have this running joke. He gets texts all the time from friends and I say, "It's nice how you have so many friends. I don't have ANY!" I know that's stretching it and being a little "Oh, woe is me." But I don't have as much time to nurture my friendships anymore, even though I know they're still there. I just have lots of friends in the same situation. We are in the thick of it, raising our munchkins and trying to put them first, and every once in a while, saving some time for ME.
Lately I've been thinking about how God uses my friends to teach me things that I just don't seem to be getting or don't want to. I have a close friend who also has 6 children. This friend is always so welcoming. It seems like she always has an extra someone at her house. I drop in on occasion on my walks to the park with my children, and often times, she just drops everything and they come along. I always think... "am I like that?" No... I let the kids have friends over, but not that much. And when they do have friends over, something happens to make me tell myself that I am NOT doing this again. Like the last time, when Chloe and Rachel had a friend over, I found 1000s of pieces of broken spaghetti all over the upstairs and on the roof. I was mostly angry with myself because I had no idea this was happening.
Back to my friend....I am also unlike her because I don't frequently say "sure, I'm not busy, I can come", instead I have an agenda for each day, and I usually put way too many things on that mental list, and I get annoyed with myself when I don't get it done, even though any normal human being could not have accomplished it with the same 50 interruptions I've had in my day. Things like....
"Mom - WIPE MY BUTT!!!!" Will can honestly wipe his own butt, but I do prefer to know that he's wearing underwear free of skid marks from time to time
"Mom, Libby's climbing on the kitchen counter."
"Mom, someone let Libby outside."
"Mom, Holly said stupid." - It's a cuss word in our house. When I get really mad, I just say STUPID really loud and it actually makes me feel better.
"Mom, Will hit me." "Holly hit me first".
"Mom, I just cleaned up the bedroom and the little kids wrecked it again!" (sorry Brooke, I feel your pain)
"Mom, come look at these pictures of dogs, which one do you like best? Can we get a dog? Everyone has a dog?" Followed by a list of 10 reasons why we should get a dog. They're wearing me down with this one. Over and over again.
"Mom, I'm hungry." They're always hungry!!!
Anyway, to continue with the point of my story. My friend and her husband invited us to come out to their permanent campsite one evening. Shortly after we got there, it began to rain. Before we knew it, it was pouring, and my friend and I were sitting in her camper with 13 children. Not much fun. But she didn't complain one bit. She invited us all inside. (I know you're wondering where the men were. Outside in the rain of course.) After a few minutes and realizing it was not going to let up, Doug and I high-tailed it out of there. Today, I reminded my friend of that adventure and I told her how I always think she's so patient and welcoming. She laughed at me. Her side of the story: After we left that night, her husband told her that she was being grumpy and she should probably call us and apologize. We both had a good laugh.
I guess you never really know what people are truly thinking. Usually what you think they're thinking... they're not really thinking. So no worries, right???
Lately I've been thinking about how God uses my friends to teach me things that I just don't seem to be getting or don't want to. I have a close friend who also has 6 children. This friend is always so welcoming. It seems like she always has an extra someone at her house. I drop in on occasion on my walks to the park with my children, and often times, she just drops everything and they come along. I always think... "am I like that?" No... I let the kids have friends over, but not that much. And when they do have friends over, something happens to make me tell myself that I am NOT doing this again. Like the last time, when Chloe and Rachel had a friend over, I found 1000s of pieces of broken spaghetti all over the upstairs and on the roof. I was mostly angry with myself because I had no idea this was happening.
Back to my friend....I am also unlike her because I don't frequently say "sure, I'm not busy, I can come", instead I have an agenda for each day, and I usually put way too many things on that mental list, and I get annoyed with myself when I don't get it done, even though any normal human being could not have accomplished it with the same 50 interruptions I've had in my day. Things like....
"Mom - WIPE MY BUTT!!!!" Will can honestly wipe his own butt, but I do prefer to know that he's wearing underwear free of skid marks from time to time
"Mom, Libby's climbing on the kitchen counter."
"Mom, someone let Libby outside."
"Mom, Holly said stupid." - It's a cuss word in our house. When I get really mad, I just say STUPID really loud and it actually makes me feel better.
"Mom, Will hit me." "Holly hit me first".
"Mom, I just cleaned up the bedroom and the little kids wrecked it again!" (sorry Brooke, I feel your pain)
"Mom, come look at these pictures of dogs, which one do you like best? Can we get a dog? Everyone has a dog?" Followed by a list of 10 reasons why we should get a dog. They're wearing me down with this one. Over and over again.
"Mom, I'm hungry." They're always hungry!!!
Anyway, to continue with the point of my story. My friend and her husband invited us to come out to their permanent campsite one evening. Shortly after we got there, it began to rain. Before we knew it, it was pouring, and my friend and I were sitting in her camper with 13 children. Not much fun. But she didn't complain one bit. She invited us all inside. (I know you're wondering where the men were. Outside in the rain of course.) After a few minutes and realizing it was not going to let up, Doug and I high-tailed it out of there. Today, I reminded my friend of that adventure and I told her how I always think she's so patient and welcoming. She laughed at me. Her side of the story: After we left that night, her husband told her that she was being grumpy and she should probably call us and apologize. We both had a good laugh.
I guess you never really know what people are truly thinking. Usually what you think they're thinking... they're not really thinking. So no worries, right???
Friday, June 28, 2013
Big Thrills
Today Doug and I (well mostly Doug) were painting our shed. By the way, Doug mentioned to me this evening, "If you want it to rain, just have Doug Speck paint something outside and it will surely rain." So anyway, after the rain, it was sunny again, and the kids were looking for a rainbow. They ran to the back yard and found a double rainbow. Then they all began shouting about the beautiful rainbow and the neighbors came to take a look. When we were all out there, they were talking about how awesome this was, and Mr. Will punches his fist in the air and screams "AWESOME!!!" in the most elated voice, and then runs away. We all burst out laughing.
This is one of the things I love about being a Mom. I get to experience the joys of all their firsts. I get to watch them experience something new and beautiful for the very first time and watch how it lights them up. I often forget how awesome some things really are, because I take them for granted, but moments like these remind me of how blessed we really are... with something as simple as a double rainbow. That's just "AWESOME!"
This is one of the things I love about being a Mom. I get to experience the joys of all their firsts. I get to watch them experience something new and beautiful for the very first time and watch how it lights them up. I often forget how awesome some things really are, because I take them for granted, but moments like these remind me of how blessed we really are... with something as simple as a double rainbow. That's just "AWESOME!"
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
You have got to be kidding me!
Last night I was exhausted by the time I went to bed. Doug decided to go for a walk, and he didn't get back until around 11:00. I had just fallen asleep when I heard him walk in. I could hear footsteps in the other room and then, "Oh, - - - - ! Lori stay in the bedroom!" Now I was wide awake wondering what the heck just happened. I was thinking, oh my gosh, there has to be something alive in there. I'm laying in my bed, listening to him scurrying around, too afraid to open my door. As I'm saying prayers that he is okay, I can't hardly stand not knowing what is going on in there. After a few minutes, I'm calling out, "Doug!" He walks to the door and tells me that there was a bat in our living room. What the heck? I was just in there about a half an hour ago. I asked him how he got it. "With a tennis racket, just like in the movie, The Great Outdoors."
I said, "Why didn't you just tell me that?" He said, "If you would've walked out and seen that thing, you would've screamed so loud you would've woke the neighbors." Yeah - thank God he was home.
I'm now thinking to myself. How the heck did that thing get in here? And will there be more? He says to me, "It probably came up from the basement. The door was partly open." Which reminds me of a time that I went downstairs to do laundry at 1:30 in the morning and something flies right past my head. I screamed and went up to wake up Doug. We never did find that one. Thank God our washer and dryer are upstairs now. But, now I'm uneasy thinking about how 1 got in the house. Doug's secretly happy, because there was something flittering in our bedroom walls since we moved here 7 years ago. I used to wake up in the middle of the night to find my husband throwing shoes at the ceiling. Like... what is that going to do???
So we both go back to bed and I'm thinking about this whole thing... Doug yelling "Don't come out of there, Lori!" and then running around the living room trying to get it just like John Candy. And I just start laughing. The whole bed was shaking. This life.... never a dull moment.
I said, "Why didn't you just tell me that?" He said, "If you would've walked out and seen that thing, you would've screamed so loud you would've woke the neighbors." Yeah - thank God he was home.
I'm now thinking to myself. How the heck did that thing get in here? And will there be more? He says to me, "It probably came up from the basement. The door was partly open." Which reminds me of a time that I went downstairs to do laundry at 1:30 in the morning and something flies right past my head. I screamed and went up to wake up Doug. We never did find that one. Thank God our washer and dryer are upstairs now. But, now I'm uneasy thinking about how 1 got in the house. Doug's secretly happy, because there was something flittering in our bedroom walls since we moved here 7 years ago. I used to wake up in the middle of the night to find my husband throwing shoes at the ceiling. Like... what is that going to do???
So we both go back to bed and I'm thinking about this whole thing... Doug yelling "Don't come out of there, Lori!" and then running around the living room trying to get it just like John Candy. And I just start laughing. The whole bed was shaking. This life.... never a dull moment.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
The Field Trip
Our second graders went on a field trip a few weeks ago. Since I do not have my own classroom of students as a Title One Teacher, I usually don't go. But our principal asked me to go along this time. There were two boys in the second grade class who got in trouble for fighting on the playground that week. My mission: be their chaperone, don't let them get into trouble, and don't let them do anything fun. Nice! How is this going to work? Both the boys in my group were in trouble for fighting WITH EACH OTHER.
On the bus ride there, we squished into a bus seat. That's right! Me, Fighter 1, and Fighter 2 packed in like sardines. I had 1 cheek on the seat, 1 cheek in the aisle, and the bus driver was eyeing me down. Apparently they've tightened those rules on the buses since I've been a kid. I guess we won't be getting out of our seats as we go over a railroad and jumping at the perfect moment so we can hit the bump and go flying to the ceiling. No siree, "No arms, legs, or other body parts in the aisles, please!"
From the start, I could tell that the one boy was a likeable kid. The other one... oh I was trying hard to think about the things I could like about him. He was interesting. It didn't take me long to realize that if I didn't keep him busy, his boredom would get him into trouble (messing with the kids in front of his seat, behind his seat, even under his seat, and putting his hands in Fighter 2's personal space, just talking too close, and putting his hands in his face). I could see why these two had problems.
Anyway, I realized that my options were very limited to keep them busy, so I started talking. I asked questions and then talked some more. I talked the whole way there and the whole way back. I think I was more tired from talking and thinking of things to talk about than from anything else that I did that day. My mouth actually hurt.
As we were talking, I learned a lot about them. I came to realize that these 2 young men didn't have very good examples in their lives. One's mom had been in an abusive relationship. The other didn't even know his mom. They were also discussing the horror movies they both had watched. It was so discouraging. It seems like half of the students I see nowadays come from broken homes. And it's always the children who suffer the most. These guys were no exception to the rule. Along with the need to be taught right from wrong, how to behave appropriately, and how to get along socially with their peers, they just wanted to be loved.
They did pretty good on the field trip. Although the one boy couldn't wait to drink his "Yahoo", I think it's called. Some sort of chocolate milk in a can. It was the size of a pop. He opened it and chugged the entire can at the first drink. I was waiting for him to breathe. No breath, just a straight chug. That was a little um, interesting.
On the bus ride back to school, they were both tired. I noticed that the 1 little boy had laid his head on the other boys' shoulder and had fallen asleep. I tried to move him a bit, because I was worried this would cause problems between the 2, but the other boy said, "It's Ok, I don't mind." As I sat there watching them, I was marveling at how 2 little boys who didn't seem to get along very well at all, were capable of being so loving toward each other in a different circumstance. The lesson for the day...when you least expect it, people will surprise you.
On the bus ride there, we squished into a bus seat. That's right! Me, Fighter 1, and Fighter 2 packed in like sardines. I had 1 cheek on the seat, 1 cheek in the aisle, and the bus driver was eyeing me down. Apparently they've tightened those rules on the buses since I've been a kid. I guess we won't be getting out of our seats as we go over a railroad and jumping at the perfect moment so we can hit the bump and go flying to the ceiling. No siree, "No arms, legs, or other body parts in the aisles, please!"
From the start, I could tell that the one boy was a likeable kid. The other one... oh I was trying hard to think about the things I could like about him. He was interesting. It didn't take me long to realize that if I didn't keep him busy, his boredom would get him into trouble (messing with the kids in front of his seat, behind his seat, even under his seat, and putting his hands in Fighter 2's personal space, just talking too close, and putting his hands in his face). I could see why these two had problems.
Anyway, I realized that my options were very limited to keep them busy, so I started talking. I asked questions and then talked some more. I talked the whole way there and the whole way back. I think I was more tired from talking and thinking of things to talk about than from anything else that I did that day. My mouth actually hurt.
As we were talking, I learned a lot about them. I came to realize that these 2 young men didn't have very good examples in their lives. One's mom had been in an abusive relationship. The other didn't even know his mom. They were also discussing the horror movies they both had watched. It was so discouraging. It seems like half of the students I see nowadays come from broken homes. And it's always the children who suffer the most. These guys were no exception to the rule. Along with the need to be taught right from wrong, how to behave appropriately, and how to get along socially with their peers, they just wanted to be loved.
They did pretty good on the field trip. Although the one boy couldn't wait to drink his "Yahoo", I think it's called. Some sort of chocolate milk in a can. It was the size of a pop. He opened it and chugged the entire can at the first drink. I was waiting for him to breathe. No breath, just a straight chug. That was a little um, interesting.
On the bus ride back to school, they were both tired. I noticed that the 1 little boy had laid his head on the other boys' shoulder and had fallen asleep. I tried to move him a bit, because I was worried this would cause problems between the 2, but the other boy said, "It's Ok, I don't mind." As I sat there watching them, I was marveling at how 2 little boys who didn't seem to get along very well at all, were capable of being so loving toward each other in a different circumstance. The lesson for the day...when you least expect it, people will surprise you.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
The Power of Confession
I went to confession this past weekend. It must seem like I've been there a lot lately. Not really... I just happen to be posting about it, again. This past week I just kept thinking about something that I felt very sorry about. It was driving me crazy. So I made up my mind to go to confession and let it go, and hopefully get some insight from the priest. The strangest thing happened to me while I was there.
I went with a friend at 4:15, right before the 5:00 mass. Neither of us had gone at that time before, so we were a little worried that the priest might not be coming. Then, there are several places for him to hear a confession, so where do we go? Do we sit in the back? In the front? Is he in there already?
I finally gave up trying to figure it out and asked an older woman who had just walked in and sat in the back row. She gave me very good instructions, so I was feeling more comfortable. However, after she went back to sit down, she got up again and came over to me and said, "I just wanted to tell you not to say much." I laughed, "Yeah, I guess if it takes too long, mass will start late!" She said, "No." And then she explained to me about a time when she was in Florida and she was going to confession. Her mother told her that she should just say "Father forgive me for all of my past and present sins." So she said just that. And then the priest said to her, "Well, that was a nice confession." She looks at me then, in the back of the church, and says, "It's all a bunch of _ _ _ _ !" I was struggling to understand what point she was making. Heck, I was struggling to get over the fact that we were sitting in church and she just said, _ _ _ _! I was starting to think that maybe she was a little crazy, and then she explained. She said that she never went back to confession after that because it didn't mean anything anyways. I proceeded to tell her that I often feel better after receiving the sacrament of confession. She said, "To each his own".
For a few days, I've been thinking about what this woman said to me. I have observed that when Catholics go to confession, depending on where they are at in their journey of faith, they are not all expecting the same thing. Yes, they all go to rid themselves of their sins and to get a clean start, but they are expecting different things from the priest. But confession is not about the priest. He sits in persona Christi; in the place of Christ. The sacrament comes from Jesus, through the priest. The priest is necessary, but the blessings of the sacrament come from Jesus. I just read an article where the writer was saying that "no one - bishop, priest, deacon, layperson - is truly worthy to administer the sacraments... nevertheless, the validity of the sacraments does not depend upon the holiness of the ministers". This means, that I still get the graces from the sacrament of confession even if the priest says something to me that I just don't like.
Moreover, I would not base my faith on whether or not I think the priest said the right thing to me. And I certainly wouldn't allow his comments to keep me from receiving the many graces that confession brings to me. If you go to a priest and you walk out of there feeling unhappy with the confession, go to someone else next time. My experiences have been quite the contrary, though. I have had many confessions where the priest has helped me to grow in my faith.
A while back a friend of mine shared with me how she had confessed a serious sin that she had been hanging on to for her whole life. She was expecting to be at minimum, reprimanded, and was a little disappointed when the sin was just forgiven, "Just like that"! I think she felt that her penance needed to be severe, so that it would really mean something. I think other people would be quite the opposite... just hoping that the priest would offer compassion and understanding.
I wonder if maybe we have these expectations because we do not understand God's love. Human love often comes with strings attached. God's love does not. He loves us in our goodness, and he loves us in our failures. In both, he loves us the same. He doesn't love me more when I am good, or less, when I far from perfect. I have slowly learned this lesson in the past year and a half. I was striving for perfection. I wanted to please God. I was reaching for perfection, which I will never be able to attain. So I kept falling, and then I noticed all of my failures. And I filled my mind with garbage while I thought of my failures again and again. God showed me that he loves me no matter what. That I will fail, and he knows that. So I just need to get back up again!
Do you remember the story of the prodigal son? Sometimes we are like the good son. We cannot believe that the father would run out to greet his sinful son with such celebration upon his return, when we have been here, doing the right thing all along. This father's love did not work like that, and neither does our Father love like that. He would rejoice at the return of His son, no matter what he had done.
Luke 15:7 I tell you, in the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance.
So why do I go to confession? I go for me. To help me. I have a need to confess. I wish to someday go to my Father and have him say, "In you I am well pleased."
I agree with Matthew Kelly (Catholic author and speaker) in that humans were designed with a need to confess. I think of my son Will, who just last week told me, "Mom... I didn't eat all the marshamallows." The funny thing is... we weren't even talking about marshmallows.
I can think of one particular time in my life, when I was really struggling with a relationship. And I of course, thought that I was totally right in this situation. After being angry about it for a day or two, I made up my mind to apologize. This was a difficult thing to do, because I didn't feel that I was in the wrong, but through my apology, I could clearly see that God was helping this person to let go.
I think it is important that we show our children what it looks like when we say, "I'm sorry" or "Will you forgive me?" When we make mistakes, we should allow them to see how we ask for forgiveness, and if it involves them, we should encourage them to practice saying, "I forgive you."
When someone says, "I'm sorry", isn't it so much easier to forgive them? We can solve a lot of problems a lot faster, if we would just say, "I'm sorry."
My sister recently spoke at a retreat I was attending, "The Life in the Spirit Seminar", and she gave a beautiful talk about confession. If you are interested in reading more of her personal testimony on confession, go to the following link.
I went with a friend at 4:15, right before the 5:00 mass. Neither of us had gone at that time before, so we were a little worried that the priest might not be coming. Then, there are several places for him to hear a confession, so where do we go? Do we sit in the back? In the front? Is he in there already?
I finally gave up trying to figure it out and asked an older woman who had just walked in and sat in the back row. She gave me very good instructions, so I was feeling more comfortable. However, after she went back to sit down, she got up again and came over to me and said, "I just wanted to tell you not to say much." I laughed, "Yeah, I guess if it takes too long, mass will start late!" She said, "No." And then she explained to me about a time when she was in Florida and she was going to confession. Her mother told her that she should just say "Father forgive me for all of my past and present sins." So she said just that. And then the priest said to her, "Well, that was a nice confession." She looks at me then, in the back of the church, and says, "It's all a bunch of _ _ _ _ !" I was struggling to understand what point she was making. Heck, I was struggling to get over the fact that we were sitting in church and she just said, _ _ _ _! I was starting to think that maybe she was a little crazy, and then she explained. She said that she never went back to confession after that because it didn't mean anything anyways. I proceeded to tell her that I often feel better after receiving the sacrament of confession. She said, "To each his own".
For a few days, I've been thinking about what this woman said to me. I have observed that when Catholics go to confession, depending on where they are at in their journey of faith, they are not all expecting the same thing. Yes, they all go to rid themselves of their sins and to get a clean start, but they are expecting different things from the priest. But confession is not about the priest. He sits in persona Christi; in the place of Christ. The sacrament comes from Jesus, through the priest. The priest is necessary, but the blessings of the sacrament come from Jesus. I just read an article where the writer was saying that "no one - bishop, priest, deacon, layperson - is truly worthy to administer the sacraments... nevertheless, the validity of the sacraments does not depend upon the holiness of the ministers". This means, that I still get the graces from the sacrament of confession even if the priest says something to me that I just don't like.
Moreover, I would not base my faith on whether or not I think the priest said the right thing to me. And I certainly wouldn't allow his comments to keep me from receiving the many graces that confession brings to me. If you go to a priest and you walk out of there feeling unhappy with the confession, go to someone else next time. My experiences have been quite the contrary, though. I have had many confessions where the priest has helped me to grow in my faith.
A while back a friend of mine shared with me how she had confessed a serious sin that she had been hanging on to for her whole life. She was expecting to be at minimum, reprimanded, and was a little disappointed when the sin was just forgiven, "Just like that"! I think she felt that her penance needed to be severe, so that it would really mean something. I think other people would be quite the opposite... just hoping that the priest would offer compassion and understanding.
I wonder if maybe we have these expectations because we do not understand God's love. Human love often comes with strings attached. God's love does not. He loves us in our goodness, and he loves us in our failures. In both, he loves us the same. He doesn't love me more when I am good, or less, when I far from perfect. I have slowly learned this lesson in the past year and a half. I was striving for perfection. I wanted to please God. I was reaching for perfection, which I will never be able to attain. So I kept falling, and then I noticed all of my failures. And I filled my mind with garbage while I thought of my failures again and again. God showed me that he loves me no matter what. That I will fail, and he knows that. So I just need to get back up again!
Do you remember the story of the prodigal son? Sometimes we are like the good son. We cannot believe that the father would run out to greet his sinful son with such celebration upon his return, when we have been here, doing the right thing all along. This father's love did not work like that, and neither does our Father love like that. He would rejoice at the return of His son, no matter what he had done.
Luke 15:7 I tell you, in the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance.
So why do I go to confession? I go for me. To help me. I have a need to confess. I wish to someday go to my Father and have him say, "In you I am well pleased."
I agree with Matthew Kelly (Catholic author and speaker) in that humans were designed with a need to confess. I think of my son Will, who just last week told me, "Mom... I didn't eat all the marshamallows." The funny thing is... we weren't even talking about marshmallows.
I can think of one particular time in my life, when I was really struggling with a relationship. And I of course, thought that I was totally right in this situation. After being angry about it for a day or two, I made up my mind to apologize. This was a difficult thing to do, because I didn't feel that I was in the wrong, but through my apology, I could clearly see that God was helping this person to let go.
I think it is important that we show our children what it looks like when we say, "I'm sorry" or "Will you forgive me?" When we make mistakes, we should allow them to see how we ask for forgiveness, and if it involves them, we should encourage them to practice saying, "I forgive you."
When someone says, "I'm sorry", isn't it so much easier to forgive them? We can solve a lot of problems a lot faster, if we would just say, "I'm sorry."
My sister recently spoke at a retreat I was attending, "The Life in the Spirit Seminar", and she gave a beautiful talk about confession. If you are interested in reading more of her personal testimony on confession, go to the following link.
Thanks Jacks, for allowing me to share it!
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