The BoyChild is in 2nd grade.  In the Catholic Church that is the age where the children prepare for First Communion.  First Communion is a really big deal in the 2nd grade set.  The BoyChild has been talking about it.  What he is going to wear.  Important stuff like that.  As part of that process, the children have been preparing for First Reconciliation.

As the BoyChild has gotten ready for First Reconciliation, we have helped him prepare.  A piece of paper came home at some point with instructions, including the verbiage he is supposed to use and the prayer he is suppose to say.  And by “prepare” I mean asking the BoyChild if he’s memorized the prayer he’s supposed to say.

At one point I asked the BoyChild what kinds of things he was intending to confess.  I guess I shouldn’t have been so direct.  I thought the question might generate discussion about right and wrong.  Instead, he said, while  shuffling from one foot to the other and looking at the ceiling, “oh you know…all that bad stuff I do that’s a sin against God.”  And I have to admit, it was said so honestly and earnestly, that it almost made me laugh out loud and want to cry at the same time.  I quickly abandoned that course of discussion.   I got no clue what kinds of sins he’s going to confess.  Sorry, Father!

As we were going to First Reconciliation on Saturday, the BoyChild looked at me and said, “I guess I should have written that prayer down on a card.”  Apparently he was having some anxiety about the prayer he didn’t memorize.  But as luck would have it, they had one for him at Church!

When we got there (I’d have been on time if I’d known there was a service) there was a nice little service of sorts already in progress.

I am not a cradle Catholic; we converted the Easter before the BoyChild was born, so keep in mind that I have limited experience with this stuff.

In my mind, I imagined it would be like when I went.  People lined up against the wall patiently waiting their turn to go into the confessional; reading a book, checking their e-mails, fingering Rosary Beads.  I brought a book and needlepoint and the BoyChild brought his Nintendo DS.

Instead they had chairs sitting on either side of the alter, our Parish Priest and another priest I’d never seen before were there.  The Children were going to confess in public!  This wasn’t what I’d imagined at all.  I mean I let him wear sweat pants but I did insist he put on a clean tee shirt.

It wasn’t really confessing in public.  Because that brings to mind images of stone throwing and public ridicule that no one wants to think about.   No one could hear their confessions but the Priest.  The way they had the chairs set up, I could barely see the Children from where I was after they sat down.

Some of the parents were taking pictures.  (If I’d known it was a picture taking event, I’d have brought my camera.)  And the children were individually going to the front, confessing their sins, lighting a candle and returning to their seats to say their acts of contrition.

As I was sitting there, waiting for the BoyChild to take his turn, I pulled out my stitching.  I’m working on a Bargello piece for the designer to use as a sample.  As I was looking at the piece trying to figuring out what color I needed to use next,  I realized I’d made a mistake.  A mistake that was all my fault.  The kind that is going to make me have to pull out about a inch by eight inch of stitching  (or a whole lot of stitching)  that I’d already done.

A phrase escaped my mouth that probably shouldn’t be used in Church.  O.K. I KNOW it shouldn’t be used in Church.

About this time the BoyChild returned to his seat.  He knelt down and said his act of contrition before returning back where I was sitting to say, “I’m done!  Let’s go!”

I felt so bad about my little faux pas that I thought I needed to go to confession and say my own act of contrition.  But, since no one heard me (or that’s what I’m telling myself) I guess we’ll just keep this between me and God.