Mixed Messages and Happy Endings
Based on the title of this post, you probably think I’m going to share a story of how I fell in love with a boy who is bad at sharing his feelings, or how an instance of poor communication miraculously led to understanding. I’m not here to speak on any of that, but rather to share a story about something that could have shaken my faith, but ended in peace.
A couple weeks ago, I attended a wedding in Iowa. Because this wedding was so far from home, and my mom and I stayed overnight in a hotel, we didn’t go to church that Sunday. Instead of abstaining from communion the following week, or going to confession to right my wrong, I went to mass and took communion.
I felt bad about that all week and planned to go for reconciliation at a church in my area.
I prepared for this by examining my conscious and deciding to confess and acknowledge my sins of omission (shoot me a message if you want me to write more about that or really anything-I take requests).
I showed up at church and stood in line behind about 6 other people. It wasn’t the worst line I’d ever been in and I figured I’d get in within a half hour tops. I quickly realized that that wouldn’t happen because each person was taking anywhere from 7-10 minutes. My feet started to bother me and the church pews began to fill up with mass attendees.
Looking around at the people filling the seats, and seeing their somewhat cold expressions, made me feel like I was standing in a line of shame. There wasn’t peace in what was to come.
Eventually the woman in front of me in line went in and I knew time was running short. She exited and there were still a few minutes before mass would start. I opened the door to the confessional and saw the priest standing in the dark, picking up his things, and attempting to exit.
He explained to me that he couldn’t take my confession. Seeing the confused look on my face, he offered to do my confession after mass, making it sound like an exception to a rule or a special treat. I knew I couldn’t attend mass and take communion again, furthering my sin, so I went home.
Notorious for never crying, I sobbed all the way home. Pro tip: cry harder in less populated areas because there’s fewer people to accidentally hit.
I felt confused. I felt hurt. Why would God put me in this position? I got in my car, drove to the church, and stood in line for 45 minutes, why can’t I make my confession?
It was during a break from my crying that I silenced myself and tried to listen to God. I felt then that he was saying “your faith in strong and I will reward you in this life and the next.” I knew that this was a test of my faith, to see how badly I wanted forgiveness and to live a better life.
I went to confession at my home church and found comfort in being the only person there. My pastor discussed my sins of omission with me and absolved me of my sin.
I wanted to share this story with you because I feel like people don’t usually share their struggles with faith until after they’ve been resolved. And while, yes, mine has been resolved, I feel that this story serves as testament that you can be trying to do good and be good, and still run into roadblocks.
As a woman currently free from sin, I ask that you keep fighting when it gets hard, pray with conviction, and hope endlessly.
2087
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