The Sin on My Soul

Lately I've been thinking about growing up in Memphis. I think I've been thinking about my spiritual journey and debating about whether I'd like to go back to church or not. I do miss the rituals, the weekly reminders of our impermanency. It makes me miss my mom. My dad always mouthed the sentiments but you probably have already read about how he's lived his life. My mother, on the other hand was a beautiful example of her faith.

All this thought of the church reminds me of when I made my first communion. We (all the kids in my class) were very excited, mostly because we got our first rosary beads, a new dress (white), new shoes (black patent leather), and a trip to the beauty shop. The nuns and the priest, Father Breen had the job of preparing our young souls for the Holy Sacrament. They did this first by having us memorize The Our Father, Hail Mary, and Acts of Contrition prayers. Next, we had to learn the steps for confession (you can't receive communion with any sin on your soul.) and also how to receive the communion from the priest.

Father Breen, our parish priest therefore came to our classroom to practice our first confession. One by one we went into the coat closet to meet with Father Breen. Get your mind out of the gutter. Our priest was on the up and up. He was right with the Lord. But, yes you would never find a parish priest practicing confession with children one on one in a coat closet today. Anyway...My turn: "Bless me father for I have sinned... this is my first confession." The priest waits for me to continue with my sins. But, I say, "I don't have any sins to confess." "Have you been fighting with your brother?" he asks. "No, I love my brother." I respond. "Have you disobeyed your parents?" he tries again. "No, I don't want a spankin'" I demur and continue. "I'm just a little girl. I don't have any sins to confess." I am summarily dismissed from the closet. My day continues as usual until my brother and I arrive home from school. When we come into the living room from the kitchen. There sits my father, who should be at work and Father Breen, who, in my mind should never be sitting in our living room. WTF - there they are. Just as we come into the room, Father Breen rises to leave - their business concluded. So now my dad can deal with me. This is how I learned that "not confessing" is a sin to be confessed. Ha Ha Ha.