Reconciliation

On Wednesday night, G and I headed to happy hour at Chili's.  We still had a little left on a gift card from Christmas (did I mention my 18 year old brother gave us each a $25 gift card to Chili's?  He rocks, but I'll save that for another post soon when I'm blubbering that he's graduating high school).  So off we headed and I ended up having 3 margaritas, to G's 2.  It was quite funny since I hadn't eaten more than an apple that day, the first one hit me like I was a lightweight, but after we ate some chips and salsa (of which I was horribly disappointed, now having made The Pioneer Woman's version, this doesn't seem as good), and hot wings I couldn't feel the alcohol so much.  I used to hate hot wings, the messiness of them, I would absolutely refuse to eat them.  Now, I daintily pick them apart with my fingers and a fork, because I'm still not into the attack like a savage beast with my teeth part.  Eh.


Did I mention we were drinking margaritas before going to confession?  Oh, I didn't?  Dang.

So we arrive at church.  G was confirmed a year ago, but with the move from England, the move here and trying to find a church that works for us, he hadn't gone to his first confession.  He was a bit nervous, but the Monsignor that he went to said he gave a "beautiful first confession."  He was told (ha!) that he needed to remember to make me the most important thing in his life, except for of course God (but something about how God flows into me and vice versa).  Overall, I think he's much calmer about reconciliation now.

I, on the other hand, had not been in 7 years since my first confession.  I kid you not, the first time scarred me so badly I haven't been back.  (My first time was with a priest who looked like Santa Claus, had the most piercing blue eyes and it was a face to face confession.  This was before I had had sex, so it wasn't a big deal, but it terrified me.)  But I walked in, shaking like a leaf.  I mean, 7 years of sinning, some I haven't even been brave enough to discuss on here, but we're talking doozies!  So I say out loud a few big ones, expecting holy water to be thrown on me at any minute.  Then I sit back, and there is nothing but silence.  Great.  I gave the guy a heart attack.  After 30 seconds (which seemed like 10 minutes) of silence he asks me if that's all.  Um, thanks?  (what?  I mean, sure it's been 7 years Father, but I figured I'd save you time and just confess the big ones that could have me spending eons in purgatory to repent!)  He welcomed me back to the sacrament, then said some words, gave me penance and I recited a prayer.  Let's just say I had a wee bit more penance than G, but even after confessing my lack of submission and that I take out my frustration by yelling at my husband, I didn't have anything mentioned about it.  (I like to think it's because I rock, but in reality, he was a younger priest, maybe he didn't understand what to say to a wife, having none himself.  Who knows?)


So, all in all, not too bad.  We are planning on going again soon, if I stay here.  If I end up leaving for a bit, I'm hoping G continues to go, I think he found some peace in it.  I apparently need to come up with more to confess (but don't worry, both of us forgot about gossip)!


*take a look at the labels, the two combined made me giggle!*