Blessed be the Messenger…

One of the things most protestants have a hard time with coming into the Catholic church is confession.  I hit that wall early in my marriage when dealing with the differences between Baptist doctrine and Catholic doctrine.  Since my husband and I both had decided that scripture was the tie that binds, and the final word, I began to search.  I found, much to my chagrin, that scripture was on HIS side.  So, as I tend to do when I realize that I was wrong, I realigned my beliefs/thoughts/opinions accordingly.

That made it a LOT easier, when God finally made clear His purpose and His call for me to join the Catholic Church, to think about celebrating the Sacrament of Reconciliation for the first time.  That said, it still wasn’t easy.  I mean come on, going into the confessional and catching up for lost time (33 years of it) isn’t exactly a fun thing.  However, I tackled it with the same enthusiasm I would a toothache… let’s get it over and done with as soon as possible!  To that end I learned what I could about it, picked up some materials on making a good examination of your conscience in preparation and began my list, all before ever stepping foot in the  church for the RCIA process.  Oh, I knew I would go through that, but it never occurred to me that it would take SO long to get to start (upcoming move to Illinois slowed everything down by six months at least).  In the end, I had quite the lengthy list, even after being told that you didn’t have to be specific.  Grouping sins together generically by type and number (if possible which often wasn’t), made creating the list possible, but it was still substantial.  In despair, I mentioned to a friend (also Catholic by conversion) that it was going to take multiple sessions with the priest, no WAY could I cover it all in one sitting.  She laughed… knowingly.  In the end, I not only got a grasp on what needed to be covered but began to anticipate my first confession.

It is a bit of a strange thing to WANT to go to confession… and you tend to question your sanity too when you are coming from a protesant background anyway.  Yet there I was, ready to make my first confession, looking forward to it eagerly.  Move over, the girls and I had begun the RCIA process at our local parish.  WONDERFUL people there, the woman who led the RCIA process in particular won my heart instantly. So when my desire for my first confession did not abate, I went to her and asked if I could do that, and how to go about it.  She said she would talk to our priest, but that normally we did that a little closer to coming  into the church formally.  I confess to feeling dread.  However, I knew that she would try and that is all I could ask.  Time went by and when no word came, I knew that once again I would have to wait.

Waiting is hard, and tempting too.  The opposition knows how to make an area of weakness appear in what would seem at first only a stronghold.  I began to hear the tempting whispers of “but you haven’t gone to confession yet” in my head.  I fought against it, but this new method of temptation only made my desire to go to confession stronger.  Most of the time I won, sometimes I blew it.  All the while, the desire to go to confession condensed and concentrated.

Last week we covered the Sacrament of First Reconciliation in  our RCIA class and our leader had told me we could go to first confession  shortly after that the week before.  Anticipation once again rearing it’s ugly head, I asked the woman who lead the class if we could do so.  She didn’t know, would check, but that usually they wanted that to happen a  few weeks before the ceremony and that isn’t until sometime after Christmas! I fought the disappointment, welcoming this new possible wait  as I have the one for coming to the table (whole ‘nother story), as the Lord’s way of preparing me  more fully for what is to come.  The request had been passed on however and in passing our leader told me that she would check on it with Father.

Then today, on Friday of all days, the phone rang.  Children came running with the  phone, happily announcing the identity of the caller.  It was our RCIA leader, almost as dear to the girls as she is to me.  She had good news that couldn’t wait she said… even though Father probably intended to tell me on Sunday at class, she just couldn’t wait to share the good news.  Father had given the ok for us to have our first confessions.  (She meant the girls and I as we are all coming into the church together.)  I was SO excited… the timing of her call means that I could conceivably go to the regular confession time tomorrow at the church.  I can’t tell you the joy that exploded through me at this news, and dear, true friend, she was as excited FOR me as I was myself.

Isn’t that an amazing type of friend? The kind who when bearing good news runs to you, as excited for you as you are yourself, wholeheartedly, genuinely joyful for you… and especially a friend who so desires to help you as you seek to grow in the Lord.  That is a precious gift indeed, and all too rare a find.  Such joy her tidings brought to me, that even hours later the glow remains, along with the sweet anticipation of what tomorrow brings.