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Adjustments and Choices

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Life is a series of adjustments and choices. Some minor; some major. The way you react to what happens along the way becomes either a major or a minor adjustment – or a minor or major choice.  Liken it to when your back or neck is hurting so you go to a chiropractor and have him align your skeletal structure. If it works, it is a minor adjustment. You are able to move on with less pain and more strength. If the pain is still there, you must choose to maybe see an orthopedic doctor for further evaluation. How long you suffer is up to you. You have to make that choice.

Let us begin when we are born. Birth itself is a plethora of adjustments as you come into the world and adapt to a multitude of so many changes as you grow moment to moment. At this stage in life, there are no choices to make.  They are made for you.

The next would be reconciling from home to school. Sometimes very scary situations arise as you go from the safe cocoon of your home to the outside world.  You meet many new people – teachers, other children. Some kind; some not. You learn, you work, play sports, learn an instrument, sing, do science experiments, be in a play. It is a barrage where bending and shaping is paramount to becoming the person you are meant to be. So many adjustments and so many choices.  What do you like to do? What kind of friends do you want? Do you choose to stand up if you are bullied or stand down and let it happen? Are you going to do your assignments to the best of your ability or choose to just get by?

You enter puberty. Bodily changes, wants, needs and everything in between that projects you into adulthood. You choose right or wrong. Choose to follow your urges or suppress them. 

You graduate high school/college. Graduating high school is a feat in itself and quite an accomplishment from grueling years of social and educational reconciliations. It is a relief, in a way, to have finished what is required educationally. You choose to go on to higher education or start a job. Choosing college will be extending your educational process. Working towards a career of your choosing. Or you learn a much-needed trade or enter the military or civil service training. You will be exposed to many personal, social, and educational experiences.  It will be hard, even grueling as you navigate yourself through the years when you truly grow into an adult. Life-changing choices and so many adjustments.

You begin a career or a job. You begin to learn how to stand on your own two feet.  Make a living that can support your independence from your parents. Always an adjustment with workload, new people and getting along, making enough money to pay your bills.

You have relationships. You grow and experiment with different people and personalities to find the type of person who matches what you need. You find people who are right or wrong for you and learn how to tell the difference. You choose a person that hopefully lifts you up and does not beat you down. You have heartbreaks – many along the road of life. You date. You break up. You commit. You uncommit.  He commits. She does not. She commits. He does not.  Heartache aplenty. You love. You hate.  You stay. You move on.

You marry. Maybe. So many adjustments and compromises and ups and downs and ins and outs. You hope for the absolute best as you take that leap and maybe you have found your person who will be a partner for all of life’s compromises. Making a choice and knowing the right person from the wrong person is something not all of us figure out. This, to me, is one of life’s greatest challenges, hardest adjustments, and so many ridiculous choices. You want to trust. You want to love. You want your person. But you must ask over and over before you decide:  Is it he/she?

You stay single.  You learn to build a life on your own, on your own terms.  Although it may be nice to have a partner, there is a lot to be said for standing on your own two feet and letting that be the core of what sustains you through life. But it is lonely and that is a big adjustment. But that is your choice.

You start a family.  Greatest responsibility in life.  Raising another human being to be a good, decent person. Sleepless nights. Strained patience. Worries galore. Best job in the world despite the crazy amount of challenges and choices and adjustments along the way.  But you gladly take on every one of them on an almost daily basis because there is no greater love in the world.

A loved one passes. Parent, spouse, friend, sibling.  Maybe your relationship was the best.  Maybe it was toxic. Maybe it was not enough.  Maybe it was just good enough. You grieve in a way that steals your soul and questions your mortality. But eventually you adjust to them not being there.  The void never really goes away.  But you must choose to find a way to move on.

You change locations.  Maybe once or twice. Maybe many times.  Each time adjusting to your new home/apartment, surroundings, neighbors, and community. Exhausting, invigorating, fun, scary. So many things.

You get divorced.  Sometimes it is a relief.  Sometimes it is not.  Sometimes it is ugly and painful and sad.  Sometimes it is not. Sometimes it is just what you needed to move on and have peace. You adjust to living your life on your own terms. And the void you feel vanishes as you adjust to a life on your own.

Your children grow up.  They leave.  Go off to college. Move onto their new independent life.  It is happy.  It is sad. Sometimes you let go easily.  Sometimes you hold on with all your might. You try to figure out what your new life without children in the house looks like. It is the movement and hecticness and craziness pushing you to your limit that you miss.  The time you dreamt of having is here and most of the time you cannot remember what it is you wanted to do with all that time. You may have trouble filling your days. Or maybe you find fun, new, fulfilling things to do and new friendships that sustain you.

You remarry.  Maybe.  Maybe not. Either way you know more about what you would like in a partner and what you do not want.  Maybe you meet someone great who fills the void and lifts you up and rekindles your faith.  Maybe you learn to fulfill your own wants and needs in life. Either way, you explore with someone new or not.

You have grandchildren.  Hopefully, you do because they are the greatest blessing in the world besides your own children, of course.  You love them and they love you unconditionally.  They fill your life with joy and laughter and fun.  You look forward to your time together like it is a big, special event because it is. You spoil them and laugh with them and would give your own life for them.

You retire.  It is a relief to be done with work that you were not crazy about.  Or it is sad to be without the work you loved.  Now you have all the time in the world to do what you wanted if you can remember what that was.  You hope you have enough money to last you. You hope you have enough ideas to fill your time or try new things and come up with something that brings you joy. So many choices.

You get old.  Ugh.  Not sure what this one will bring as I only now venture into that territory.  Optimistically, you can live out your days without an overabundance of medical issues and be able to live independently. Or maybe at some point you will need assistance. It may be difficult, but it will be OK. You will adjust as maybe that choice is made for you. In any case you’ll be wondering what the hec happened because life goes by fast! So try to remember to have fun whenever you can.

Finally, you pass.  Who knows what happens next?!  With utmost faith you will be adjusting to paradise and resting in God’s arms.  You hope to be hearing the words, “Well done.”

Each and every stage of life warrants some kind of realignment and innumerable choices. Major or minor will be determined by the way you handle it through your own strength, conviction, or sheer will power. My wish is that you remain standing strong and able as you move from one phase to the other without dislocation or an abundance of angst. You and only you can make that choice.

Welcome, Fall!

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Cool breezes

Warm fleeces

The start of school

That golden rule

Piles of leaves

From crimson trees

Chilly weather

Cozy sweaters

Apple toffee

Pumpkin coffee

Clear nights

Stars shimmer white

Toasty fires

Hearts desires

Cinnamon tea

Happy just to be

Pies baking

Turkeys roasting

Children laughing

Holidays are happening

Connecting Through Color

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I’ve been coloring pages in a children’s coloring book for the past two hours.  Pictures of Cookie Monster skateboarding, a dolphin in mid-air performing at Sea World for Big Bird, Oscar and Cookie Monster, and Grover sporting an inner tube at the beach. I’m enjoying mixing and choosing the different crayons as I take in their familiar scent and chuckle to myself at the irony of it all.IMG_3438

Why am I doing this? Why would a sixty-something-year-old be coloring kid pictures? Because I miss my grandsons. Today I sit here by myself, lonely as hell, coloring because it makes me feel connected to them.  I haven’t seen them in awhile because this invisible enemy – Covid-19 – has invaded our earth, and life as we know it has changed drastically. We are practicing social distancing. But what I want to do most is just hug my grandsons and be with them – coloring or cookie baking – riding bikes or playing soccer. I wish we could just snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. Instead, this virus has stolen these moments from me and them and everyone else in the world. I don’t know where it came from; I don’t know where it’s going or when. I just want it to vanish because it is a thief and a destructor of all things good.

IMG_3437Later I’ll mail these pictures off to the boys so they can put them on their refrigerator like I put their drawings on mine.  I’ll enclose a card with a printed note that tells them how much I love them. I know it will make them smile, and they’ll know I am holding them close in my heart. Then I’ll call them, or they’ll call me, or FaceTime, and they will be silly and giggle and run around and act like crazy boys as I chuckle. I’ll fight back the tears until I hang up.

I’m hoping they’ll look at the pictures every now and again and smile in their remembering of their Mimi and look forward to all the fun we’ll have again when this horror fades away and life returns to some sense of normalcy – whatever that will look like. I’m thankful that the boys are too young to understand the magnitude of what’s going on in the world. I have faith that before too long we’ll be, once again, snuggling on the couch as we watch a funny movie and laugh. Then we’ll go to the table and color pages – Ethan telling me which crayon to use on what, as Carter furiously scribbles a kaleidoscope of psychedelic renderings.

These are the things I’ll never take for granted again.

HOLY MAUNDY THURSDAY

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Do you remember the last time you gathered with your family and friends to have dinner?  Mine was on March 1. It was my daughter Megan’s birthday. I made lasagna and meatballs and baked a Funfetti cake, which is her favorite. We had a lot of fun celebrating, laughing and enjoying the food along with each other’s company.  I got to hug and play games and color with my grandsons. It was loud and crazy and amazing. We didn’t know that that would be the last time we would all be together for quite some time.

Today is Holy (Maundy) Thursday. The word “maundy” means washing the feet of the poor. The Catholic Church commemorates this day as the last time Jesus and His disciples gathered for dinner, or the Last Supper. On that night He washed the feet of these twelve men, which was an act of humble love. It was the night that gave birth to Holy Communion as Jesus blessed and broke the bread and wine and gave it to His apostles saying, “Do this in remembrance of me.” I imagine they must have questioned at the time what that meant. It was the night we received the new commandment to “Love one another.”  It was the last time they would all be together. They didn’t know, but Jesus did.

This group of friends were just enjoying an evening of being together on that Holy Thursday evening. They did not have any clue as to what was going to happen in the days ahead. My family was just enjoying an evening of being together on March 1. We didn’t know what was going to happen in the days ahead. The disciples weren’t prepared. We weren’t prepared. As Catholic history progresses with the arrest of Jesus, these disciples, his friends, became scared. As more and more people in our country got sick and started dying with COVID-19, we became scared.

So here we are in real time reflecting on the events of Holy Maundy Thursday like we do each year during this Easter season.  Only this year, it is different.  This year I am sure we can actually feel the love and comradery the disciples felt that evening in the company of Jesus, and then the terror of what happened later that night in the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus prayed, was betrayed and then arrested. The disciples were afraid, isolating themselves in hiding.  One minute we, too, were enjoying dinner in the company of our loved ones, and in an instant, we became afraid of the invisible virus that was so ferociously sickening and killing so many. We now isolate ourselves.

History has proven that life as we know it can change in an instant. But we also know that faith always wins out over fear, as proven by those brave men and how they moved forward growing our faith throughout the world.

Be brave in the days ahead. Be faithful. We don’t know what will happen, but Jesus does.

And until you can hug your families and friends again, hold them close in your heart.

BELLA

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I sit in front of a blank screen wondering where to begin to describe the story of my dear Bella and how much I loved her. “Oh, come on” some people who don’t understand would say, “she was just a dog.” But that’s not true.  She was my faithful companion, comical sidekick, a full-of-love bunny who spent most of her 12 years keeping me company and moving me forward during a time of transitioning from a full, happy family household to a divorced empty nester living on a shoestring budget of nothing. She gave me purpose, kept me well-exercised and chased the crushing blows of loneliness away with her steadfast companionship and funny antics. To know she was there and needed me, too, made all the difference in the world to me because with her I never felt alone.

Bella came to me as a rambunctious, border-line wild, 14-week-old Labrador retriever puppy.  I adopted her from a family who claimed they became “allergic” to her and had to get rid of her. When I went to pick her up, she was literally bouncing off the walls from one end of the room to the other.  Her name at the time, “Lightening,” was telling. She chewed the furniture, ripped up kitchen linoleum, broke baby gates, and generally drove me to the point of exhaustion. She wasn’t a cuddly dog, but I was never out of her sight, and when I was upset, she would sit by my side and look up at me as she leaned on my legs.

A definite water dog, if I said, “bath” she ran and jumped in the tub. She loved presents at Christmas and her birthday. She loved kids and dogs and cats and snow and swimming. She didn’t mind getting dressed up on Halloween. And she LOVED to eat.  A refrigerator door couldn’t open or a wrapper crinkle without her coming running. She moved with me twice and transitioned from a great big fenced in yard to having to walk down the street to do her business. I had always hoped to own another home with a yard for Bella, but that wasn’t to be the case after all.

In her later years, as she developed diabetes along with diminishing eyesight and then arthritis, she never lost her spirit. She was always willing to go wherever I wanted, and of course, was always by my side. Quick with a kiss. A foodie extraordinaire.

The house is eerily quiet now, and Lucy, my cat, looks for her constantly. They were an odd couple. Sometimes I awake in the middle of the night and listen for her breathing, which was heavy towards the end. I wake up in the morning and for a split second think I must get up and walk Bella.  Then I remember. No, life is not the same without her. No sharing my lunch and dinner.  No daily walks to the park. No sweet company to chase away the blues. Twelve years is a good, long life for a dog, but it wasn’t long enough for me.

I know in time I’ll get stronger, and sorry this is so sad.  But paying homage to the pets I have loved is closure for me. She is missed like crazy, not only by me but all my family and friends who knew her well since she traveled everywhere with me.  Everybody loved sweet Bella.

So, see you in heaven, Belly Jelly (kiss a felly). Have fun with all of our puppies and kitties up there. I love you with all of my heart. Thank you for loving me.

 

BELLA   September 26, 2007 – November 5, 2019

Five Little Apple Seeds

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Ethan, my five-year-old grandson, was eating an apple and was intent on saving the five little seeds from the middle.  He said he wanted to plant them and grow apple trees of his own. He carefully picked out the seeds, laid them on a napkin, and asked me to write, “Do Not Throw Away.  Save for Ethan to plant.”

Early the next day, we decided to do the chore of planting his little seeds.  We walked around the yard with Ethan’s twin brother Carter following on his bike and observing.  I asked Carter if he wanted to help plant the seeds, to which he replied, “No.” “Why?” I asked. He said he wanted to ride his bike instead. So Ethan and I found a perfect spot between Ethan’s two favorite trees.  Carter followed us back and forth to the shed as we got a shovel. “Carter, would you like to help us dig the holes?” “No,” was his reply. Ethan and I dug two holes – one to plant three seeds and one to plant the other two.  “Carter, do you want to help us plant the seeds?”  “No,” he replied as he twirled his bike around the trees. We placed the seeds gently inside the holes.  We covered the seeds with dirt and went to fetch some water.  Ethan filled up a bucket, and together, he and I carried the bucket to water the seeds with Carter riding close beside us on his bike. Ethan started watering the seeds.  “Carter, would you like to help water.”  “No.”

We went back to the shed to get some peat moss to put on top of the mounds where the seeds were buried. “Won’t it be fun to pick your own apples from your own trees? I asked.  Ethan nodded his head smiling and working diligently to shovel the peat moss onto the mounds as Carter watched.

“Carter, did you ever hear the story of the “Little Red Hen?” I asked.  Again, “No.” Well, I explained, the little red hen found some wheat and asked for help from the other farmyard animals to plant it, but they refused.  When it had grown, the hen asked for help to harvest it and they said no.  Then she made it into flour by herself and asked for help mixing the dough and baking it into bread and each time they said no. Carter looked at me pensively.  “Well, I continued, “when that yummy bread was baked and cooling and the aroma started traveling out the window, all those farmyard animals who wouldn’t help came and wanted a piece of the delicious bread, and guess what?  The little red hen said “no” since none of them had helped her with the hard work.  Carter looks at me and says, “I don’t like apples anyway,” and rode around the tree.

The final phase of the apple seeds planting involved gathering some stones and two sticks to mark where they were planted.  Ethan eagerly looked around for the stones.  Carter looked at me, and I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to help us gather the stones?”  He says, “OK,” and rides his bike back and forth from where the stones were, giving us handfuls to mark the plantings. Ethan put a stick on one mound, and Carter gets off of his bike and put a stick on the other.

“We sure are going to enjoy some yummy apples when these trees grow,” I comment.  Ethan smiles broadly and nods and so does Carter. Then Ethan and I hopped on our bikes and enjoyed a ride with Carter several times around the yard.

I sure do hope those seeds grow.

 

Just a Target Run

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Let me preface this by saying this is not an advertisement for Target.  I do, however, love browsing around for some pretty incredible finds as was the case this morning when I went to “get a few things” and ended up with a cart full.

This is how I found myself in the middle of a moms/dads/first-time college students shop fest.  There were many – all over the store wherever I went. What a throw back in time remembering those days when I took my kids shopping for their first away-from-home supplies.  I was riddled with anxiety at the thought that they wouldn’t be home anymore and doing only heaven knows what in college.  Part of me was so excited and happy since I never had the opportunity, but a sadness loomed in the depths of how life would change in an empty nest. So, everything they asked for they pretty much got. Yes, yes, yes – put it in the shopping cart. Hundreds and hundreds of dollars later from shopping sprees that not only included Target but Bed, Bath and Beyond and Sam’s Club as well, I sat with my feet up pondering how long it would take to pay this stuff off.  Didn’t matter.  They would go off to school stocked with everything they needed to succeed.  And that’s exactly what I witnessed these moms and dads doing.  Yes, you can have this; yes, you can have that! Computers, TV’s, plastic drawer sets, bedding, food.  I even overheard an awkward conversation between a mom and son where he emphatically told her he did not need vitamins that would enhance his libido. This is the truth, by the way, you can’t make this stuff up. There they were – moms waving things in the kids’ faces – here, you’ll need this and that. On and on it went no matter which way I turned. Moms and dads wistfully gazing upon and already missing their little darlings.

I know I don’t have to tell you how quickly time flies.  It’s been quite a few years since my kids went off to those crazy college days, but it seems like yesterday. I can still feel the worry and the pride. I can still remember the elation at the thought they were returning for Thanksgiving or Christmas or spring break and how the house would come alive and how even the pets would get excited.  And I can still remember the angst when they left again and the utter silence in the house and the solitude. I’m sure these parents were thinking the same things as they spoiled their kids with whatever they needed or wanted.

I didn’t plan on taking a sentimental journey back in time when I drove off to Target this morning.  Nonetheless, there it was on the excited faces of the students and the confused and despairing look of the parents as they loaded their carts with the college wares. Students probably thinking about the parties they would go to and the people they would meet. Parents gazing wistfully at their grown children taking a giant step into their future – hoping and praying that they make it through in one piece and graduate!

And, by the way, mine did!!! #thankyouJesus

 

 

Meow-Meow

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I first noticed Meow-Meow nibbling at some bread crumbs I had thrown out for the birds. I felt sorry for her.  When she saw me, the petite calico cat was quick to greet me with her pretty little face looking up at me. I was allergic to cats, so never much cared for them and had dogs instead for most of my life. But when I grabbed some gloves to put on to pet her and she let me, she stole my heart. Shortly thereafter I starting buying cat food to feed her.  We lived in a rural area with neighbors few and far between, and I asked around but nobody claimed her.  From then on she lived outside our house under the deck and meandered around the yard.  She was content.

I finally decided I should get her spayed and neutered if she were going to stay.  The day I had the appointment I couldn’t catch her.  The next morning I found her – along with her newly born kittens- all males. They were in a sheltered place and safe, so life went on.  Once I bought the kittens some little toys that looked like mice.  The next morning I found a real mouse (dead) lying in front of them.  Meow apparently was trying to outdo me!

My brother unwittingly adopted two kittens, and I just kept the other two.  They were all neutered and spayed and given shots. Time passed, and the cats eventually moved inside the house.  My allergies somehow subsided, and the gang came along with me through two moves.

Meow-Meow was smart and serious and pretty and ruled the roost.  She kept everyone in their place – even the dogs. She watched over me quietly and was attuned to all my moods, sitting with me and comforting me when I was sad or sick or unhappy. Vocally meowing when she wanted my attention – never really demanding much except love and affection.

She outlived all of her sons and just left this world at the age of 16.

So today my heart is aching, and the tears fall for this precious little girl who came into my life and stayed with me through some pretty tough times. Who sat in my chair snuggling with me as I read, wrote and watched TV.  Who cuddled up with me on my bed nightly, even feebly on her last night. I never really felt alone with her since she was always, ever so quietly, present with me.

People say you shouldn’t feed stray cats. But if a cat finds its way into your life, isn’t it something you should do?  Because if not you, then who? And if the worst thing people can say about me when I die is that I took in stray animals and cared for them, then that’s something I am proud of.

I’m one of those people who believes that I’ll be with Meow-Meow again in heaven one day – running around and batting her sons with her paws in a lush green garden. Until then I’ll think of her with fondness until the day she sits quietly by my side again, warming my heart with her gentle purring.

 

 

Jake

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As retirement loomed in the not-so-distant future, I was doubting what I had ended up doing with the past ten years of my life and wondering with trepidation what would come next. The job hadn’t paid well, my savings were nil, and I was worried about my future. Then Jake slipped his hand into mine.

Jake is a very shy, non-verbal, multiply-disabled, five year old boy in the other classroom. He’s very tall for his age, almost reaching my shoulders and has thick, curly black hair pulled back into a pony tail.  He covers his big, dark eyes with his hands when he gets off the bus or when a lot of people are around. I don’t see Jake often because I usually have lunch during their recess, but I’ve observed him on and off in the playground always by himself, wandering aimlessly around.

To be honest, I didn’t really choose this job with these children on purpose. Through a friend I was hired in a school as a one-on-one aide to a severely autistic child after I had lost my job, relocated and was having trouble finding employment. There was an instant connection with the child, and I found it rewarding to be able to help her navigate through her daily activities.  I remained with her for two years until the family moved out of district.  Then I was assigned to the multiple-disability classroom where I remained for another two years. It was a tough job, but I loved it.  The last three years I’ve been working in the preschool classroom. The children are not impaired except for a few behavior problems, which is not as gratifying as the special ed students. I became disenchanted. Health problems ensued, along with age, and retirement became imminent.

But that morning, Jake was walking with another aide who stopped to talk. I said hi to Jake and commented on his cool dinosaur t-shirt. He smiled slightly. That afternoon he came up to me and took my hand.  He pointed to his dinosaur t-shirt and smiled. I remarked again how much I liked the shirt, and he was pleased. We strolled around the yard – me talking; him listening, sometimes smiling, but happy to just be walking with me. My heart ached, and in that moment I realized that the past ten years were not in vain. I connected with these children in a positive way, and that’s more than enough for me.

 

A Penance Service

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When I was a little girl, I attended a Catholic school, where we went to confession as a class once a month. Nuns were our teachers, and the school was a strict, respectful environment. Probably the polar opposite of what we have in our public schools today.  Back then (in the stone ages) eating meat on a Friday was a grave sin.  One particular time I confessed to a priest (who had the reputation of being rather nasty) that I had eaten chicken noodle soup on a Friday.  I was sick, I explained, and my Mom gave it to me because it was the only thing I could eat and made me feel better. Well, Father Nasty reamed me out as if I had committed murder.  “Wasn’t there anything else in the house to eat?” he scolded. Thank God the confessionals were private back then and he couldn’t really see who I was for I was sure I was blushing. My penance was heavy, consisting of at least five Our Father’s, ten Hail Mary’s and I don’t know what else, but I remember kneeling and praying for a very long time for the dastardly deed of eating meat on Friday, which added up to a few pieces of chicken in broth. I told my Mom about my confession, and she was really mad at the priest.  I don’t think she ever actually spoke to him about it, but she had conversations with the other moms and her sisters. I recall avoiding him like the plague after that.

Many years have passed, and times have changed. Nowadays meat is only prohibited on Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, and Fridays of the Lenten season.  I make it to confession not monthly but maybe once a year, usually around Easter or Christmas. The other day I went to the Easter Penance service with my aunt.  When we arrived, I was surprised to see that there were already many people in line. We got in a line for an older, silver-haired priest. The line moved quite quickly, and before I knew it, I was up.  Last year my mind went blank when I was confessing, so this year I wrote a little list to remind me of mostly petty, insignificant stuff, but sins nonetheless.  I started with number one, which I did remember and then glanced at my list, explaining to the priest that I went blank last year and needed some reminders. “May I see the list?” he asked.  “Um, sure,” I said hesitating. I fumbled and unfolded it, handing it over to him.  He barely glanced at the note at all then looked into my eyes as he ripped it into tiny pieces. Oh geez, I’m in trouble now, I thought.

“I think this is what Jesus would do if you handed him a list of your sins,” he said. A tear escaped my eye as I stared into his kind eyes and saw his gentle smile.  “Pray one Our Father.”   He put his hand on my head and gave me absolution. Then he said, “Just be a good person and do better.”

A lot is being said about priests these days, and for some rightly so. Someday the atrocities of some will have to be answered for. A lot of people have turned away from the Catholic Church because of it. But I can’t help to think that good, sincere priests outnumber the others. I believe there are priests who genuinely want to care and minister to people for all the right reasons.  They want to teach us kindness and forgiveness and are trying to direct us to the power of faithfulness and the path to trusting in God and in His goodness in all circumstances. Tonight I was blessed to be in the presence of one of those.

I knelt in a pew in the quiet of the Church and said one Our Father.  I marveled at the lesson I had just learned. I was reminded that Jesus gave his life for all of our sins, and we are forgiven.  My faith just keeps getting stronger.

On the way home, my aunt recited something which she learned in her Catholic school:

Good, better, best.  Make the good better and the better best.

Happy Easter!