After a full day at work, I ran to the store to pick up a gift I had ordered and then hurried home to feed our boys a little soup before going to confession. We ran through the rain to get to the church and arrived damp with umbrellas in hand.It was then that I noticed the Eucharist in the monstrance on the altar. I hadn’t realized there would be Adoration and hadn’t prepared the children. We had been chanting, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” in the car on the way, but we hadn’t talked about how to behave during Adoration. We stopped at the entrance and I offered a brief explanation. Suddenly this seemed like maybe not the best idea, taking two bouncy children who are infused with the pre-Christmas spirit into a silent, prayerful church.
But I reminded myself that we can only prepare to meet Christ in so many ways, and He loves us as we are. And we were here, which seemed like a victory in itself.
We walked into the church, our soggy, printed Act of Contritions in hand, and my boys whispered that they wanted to confess to a specific priest. After I knew they were set, I ducked into a confessional myself. I realized, as I have so many times before, that I am often so focused on preparing the children that I forget that I get to experience the sacrament myself.
I didn’t know the priest, except by name, since he was visiting to help with confessions, but he greeted me with a smile.
As I slipped into the confessional and realized it would have to be face-to-face, which I’ve done only once before, he said, “How is your Advent going?”
“Well, it’s going well, but it’s not perfect,” I said.
“That’s why it comes every year,” he said.
I loved that. God knows we fail and gives us another chance, in Advent and in Confession.
The priest talked about what I’m struggling with, and he really listened and asked questions. He wanted to understand. He wanted to help. Even though I had never met him before, he was Jesus in that exchange, and I was moved, as I always am, especially when he talked about my children. I left wiping away a few tears as I often do.
The boys hurried to meet me as I came out, carrying my coat and the umbrellas, still dripping, and the soggy Acts of Contrition. They were ready to go.
As we were walking out of the church together, my sons seemed lighter and happier—just as you should feel after confession. They know they don’t need to share the details of their time in the confessional, but I always ask whether they understood their penance. They said they had both already prayed their penance.
“What‘s your penance, Mom?” one of them asked.
“Mine is to watch my children and really notice how they experience some of the joy of the Christmas season,” I told them.
We were quiet for a moment, as they took that in, and as I considered the beauty and depth of that penance.
Looking for joy. It might be the best penance I’ve ever received. And somehow in these hectic days before Christmas, when there seems to be so much to do, I feel a deep peace.
May your last days of Advent also be touched by grace and peace, and may you find moments of joy in the people around you.
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