I have a confession...

I have a confession.  Religion has played a very sticky role in my marriage.  There. I said it.  I never figured that two "Christians" marrying one another would have the difficulties that my husband and I had.  Past tense. Had.  But we HAD those issues for a long time.  In fact, we didn't resolve those differences until 2010.  I also purposefully used quotations around "Christian," as the definition apparently can vary greatly depending on one's denomination, geography, culture, education and spiritual belief.

Ok. What am I talking about? I was raised Episcopalian and my husband was raised, well, more Baptist.  The difference? In my view, Episcopalians have no real "rules" and pretty much worship privately.  It's been called the "educated man's religion."  Baptists, on the other hand are what I like to call "foot-stomping, hand-clapping" christians! They are evangelical, meaning that they shout it from the mountain top!  Personally, I like a good evangelical song, but when you get into those sticky wicket issues like salvation, baptism etc., and you're told at the Christmas table that you weren't really baptized, but "sprinkled," then things can get heated.

In my younger years, and in our younger years of marriage, these issues seemed to permeate EVERY conversation and triggered every fight.

I'll skip over a lot of the drama and insignificance and move to our resolution.  As crazy as it sounds, we decided to convert to Catholicism! What? I'm sure you're thinking: "How did you get there?"  Long story, involving issues of infertility and more, but the details don't really matter. What matters is that my husband and I reached this decision TOGETHER.  This was going to be OUR religion, not my parent's or his parent's religion, but ours.

We went to RCIA classes every Monday night from September to May.  That was hard, because we had to pay a babysitter to watch our two sons at the time (I was pregnant with our third).  We learned a lot of information and had some of the best discussions we've ever had.

One of the things that neither of us really understood, nor believed in at first, was the issue and sacrament of confession.  As an Episcopal, I figured: "why tell a priest, when I can just pray directly to God?"  Brian's baptist upbringing really didn't like the idea of elevating a man to a godly position.  I'm not here to get into a huge debate about those issues, but what I DO want to share is what WE learned.

Yes. I can confess my sins privately to God. I don't have to utter a word. I just share my thoughts with  Him and He knows.  So why confess to a Priest?  Like Church, the rite of confession, or reconciliation, is for US-- not God. He already knows our sins.  But for us to VERBALLY confess our sins to another human being helps us!  How?  Well, in keeping with my "shame" theme this week, humans try to hide, deflect and shield themselves from their perceived shame.  We are only as sick as our secrets, or so "they say."

For me, the act of confession, of verbally stating my deficiencies to another human being takes the power away from my shame.  I'm forgiven. I know that, but the priest TELLS me I am forgiven. What a relief!  A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders!  To hide our shame, our sin, our shortcomings...to hide behind a facade and a shield is to give it power and perpetuate it!

Sunlight is the best disinfectant.  So shine a light on shame and sin and watch it dissipate!

The act of confession, while feel like I still don't know what I'm doing, is now one of my favorite (and least favorite) things about being Catholic.  And....in all honesty, I must confess that it's been WAY too long since I've gone to confession.

I'm not perfect, but I guess my point is, let's stop hiding our shame about motherhood, midlife and the career choices we make!  Let's live authentically!

One final point: Go Seahawks!


xooxoxooxoxxo,

Leslie