I Must Confess

Well. Miss Baptist Lady J did something today she never thought she would do. In.👏 A.👏 Church.👏

I received the sacrament of confession!

You know how it is. The Protestants are all like “blah blah blah it’s just me and Jesus, intermediary this, absolution that WHATEVER.” Having grown up in that tradition, I understand the reflex, but as the wifey of an Orthodox Christian, I’ve had the opportunity of coming to God in a new way. This past November, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a bag at my door with a devotional and journal for the Nativity (that’s right, not Christmas, the Nativity). Orthodoxy has enabled me to appreciate Christmas in a way that does not drain me. I’ve written in this space that thinking of gifts is very little in comparison to the social obligations that come with the holiday season, and observing Advent has helped me to focus on what I should be – the coming of Christ and preparing my heart. I remember feeling sad when Epiphany came and went because the season that I was experiencing with joy was over. I wrote in a letter to my church that it was legitimately the best Christmas I had had since 1994, when I awakened to find a new bicycle under my tree.

2020 was a *year* for most people, and I am no exception. I have eaten and drunk my quarantine feelings, thankfully avoiding the virus myself despite other family getting it, watching people from afar get Covid-19, dealing with death of family members. I have been harboring bitterness and I feel my physical weight is a reflection of my emotional weight. I’ve been looking forward to the Lenten fast. While I have given up things like eating out or alcohol in the past, I have never tried to fast like the Orthodox during any fasting period. I understand that the purpose of the fast is not to lose weight, but I am sincerely hoping that being thoughtful about my food intake will bring me closer to both spiritual and physical health.

March 14 is Forgiveness Sunday, and as the calendar has approached I’ve thought, I’ve got to get it together. I should not ask God to forgive me perpetually if I am not doing the same. Our church bulletin had some ideas on how to prepare for confession, and I’m reading over this list thinking to myself – maybe I would save the priest some time if I just talked about the sins I haven’t committed. I maintain that nothing is harder than loving your neighbor – the ones who still don’t wear masks properly, the ones who insist Covid isn’t a big deal, the ones who would be fine with America resembling apartheid South Africa with permanent white minority rule. I can’t control that foolishness, but I can control myself and my attitude, and frankly, it probably isn’t good that part of me is going to be sad when herd immunity is reached because that means I won’t have an excuse to duck social activities any longer.

When I walked into the church for the first time in over a year, I was shocked at my reaction. Tears came to my eyes as I looked at the icons in this holy space. It was like I was being welcomed home. Father explained to me how confession would work, and I then faced the icon of Jesus and prayed for an attitude shift and forgiveness of my unbelief. I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say that I wasn’t sure how effective today’s exercise would be, but all I know is that what I’ve been doing hasn’t been working and it was safe to say that it was unlikely that talking with my priest would be harmful. We talked about a lot of things and he came to the story of the Prodigal Son. You should click on it because reading the Bible is good, but in case you come across this blog post in a lazy mood and don’t know the story, a father with great wealth has two sons and one of them is like, hey, gimme my inheritance now, he gets it, and he squanders it. Meanwhile, the other son is dutifully working for his father. The idiot son is like – hey I’m an idiot. I should go back to my Dad, who sees his formerly ungrateful son from afar and throws him a party. Meanwhile, responsible son is like DUDE. I’ve been awesome. Where’s my party? Only idiots get parties? The Dad says that they totally have to celebrate that the idiot has realized that he is an idiot and has plans to stop being an idiot.

Then there’s Lady J. I definitely have older son vibes. Apologize to me? I may hear it, assent to it, but really I’m thinking to myself – why were you an idiot in the first place? You should have known better. Let’s be real. The idiot son should have known better. BUT. Am I not the idiot son pretty much daily in my relationship to God? Or in ways I may not even realize with others? So here I am, just mad that the undeserving are getting parties when meanwhile, I’m in the middle of my own party I’m not appreciating. Yikes. How many ways can I sin AT ONCE – I must be gifted. Heh.

So yeah. My heart is a bit softer than when I left the house this morning. Here I was, thinking that I wouldn’t be anywhere that excited me more than Total Wine, but you know what? The peace that came over me as I entered the church building was unreal. On Sunday, I am looking forward to hiding my TW stash at my parents’ house for safekeeping for the Lenten fast and then driving to church for the Forgiveness Vespers. I have been humbled even since I’ve returned home – I looked at the checklist that I committed to doing over the course of Lent and I ALREADY had forgotten that I had checked off “go to Forgiveness Vespers.” My prodigal a** did the checklist just THIS MORNING.

Soft heart. Hopefully with a side of less soft abs. I’m coming back, Jesus. ❤

I’m legit fatter than this unsuspecting calf right now.