As a new wife and mom, one of my most precious moments was dropping by my parent's home for a visit. Sitting at the familiar kitchen table I could enjoy some peaceful moments of conversation with my mom as my dad, the very proud new grandpa, held baby Matthew.
My mom and I would sit with our coffee and talk; at times it was a very deep, life-changing conversation. More often, however, it was a time to simply be at peace and be renewed, to feel that love that only coming home can bring.
It has been more than 12 long years since my dear mom passed away. I think I would give almost anything in this world to be able to sit at that kitchen table just once more with my mom; to share that peaceful loving feeling one more time. Because there is nothing like coming home.
As Lent began this year, I found myself breaking away from the busy schedule of my family's Saturday --- the baseball, errands, shopping, chores --- and making my way back to another familiar place: the confessional.
There is something about the quiet peacefulness of the church on a Saturday afternoon. Maybe it is that lingering aroma from the floral arrangements from the day's weddings and quinceañeras. Maybe it is the familiar surroundings of this place I go with my family every week. Or perhaps it is the fact that is a quiet moment away from all my obligations that need attending to.
But I think the most important thing of all is this: Someone is always there waiting for me.
I have heard many people give reasons they do not go to confession. The most common reason is, "I haven't really done anything worth confessing." Having never actually heard anyone's confession, I can't imagine what is considered actually worth hearing in confession. I assume by this they mean they have not murdered anyone, embezzled large quantities of money, or committed adultery.
But a sin is a sin, is it not? And any sin, large or small, has the potential of taking us further away from God's grace. It takes us far away from home.
Leaving the confessional on this Saturday afternoon I found myself feeling not only renewed, but grateful. Grateful for the forgiveness and the grace of God. Grateful for the priests who are faithfully there, every Saturday, waiting with Christ for us to come home. Sometimes the confession and the words of the priest are very deep and life-changing. More often, they simply bring me peace and help me be renewed.
Going to confession brings to my heart the same wonderful feeling as sitting at the kitchen table with my Mom: I have come home. And the One who loves me more than life itself is always there waiting for me.
Therese C. Corsaro attends St. Mary Church in Palmdale. |