light as a feather...

                                             

    Painting by Natalie Buske Thomas

                                                            You yourself, 
                                       as much as anybody in the entire universe, 
                                              deserve your love and affection...Buddha                                                                                                                     


The word that I awoke with this morning was "Confession." I am not sure where to go with this but I must "confess" that I am so tired of the sun and these brutal September days in my beloved Georgia. No rain, plants drooping, about to expire. One runs from car to house before being pressed and melted like an ice cream cone dropped on a sidewalk. Help.

That's not what this is about. It is telling of the relief one feels when going to the Catholic sacrament and unloading your selfishness onto the sturdy shoulders of a priest. It is about facing your shortcomings and yes, sins,  and hoping to leave them behind and start afresh, a blank slate, a new creation.

I have often heard this: why not just tell God and I get that question. My answer always relates to my time living in Denver in the 70s when I used to listen to a call-in Christian station. Many times the caller would say, "I have said I am sorry to God but I don't know if I have been forgiven, or I don't feel like I am forgiven." I would think, that is sad, because I never felt that way. The reason that has never been an issue I think is because Confession exacts a price. It is hard. To face yourself and then humbly tell another human your sins is difficult.The relief when you leave is palpable. Nothing matches it.

When my kids were young and we would go as a family to Penance , I remember them gamboling about the parking lot like new fawns having left their burdens behind. It is a great gift.

And so I recall confessions that I am sure took place with two people that I cared deeply about , my sister and my friend, Mike. They had been away from the Church for almost their whole lives but at the end, they chose to meet with a priest and tell their stories so they could move on to the next place unburdened. I makes me happy t think of them walking lightly on their way.

The scene from "The Shack" comes to mind where the sad, broken Dad walks up the path to the big house where God waits and as he walks , the dark starts to disappear, the snow melts, the trees and flowers bloom and the path is lit by the sun.That is what Confession is like, a path back to the Light.