When you realize how mean you were…you are…

Sunday. I awoke and knew I had to go, I wanted to go, and needed to go. Showered, dressed, and I told my husband I am leaving to confession. In normal fashion he said, “no worries and have fun.” I walked in and I noticed more people, pre game confessions. It’s funny how we prioritize the Super Bowl and church. I sat in my normal chair outside the door, and peaked in the window, looked up, light is red, ok someone is in there…what am I doing here, again…oh yes, I said some horrible things out of anger. How words weigh your heart down, thoughts cloud your judgement. My turn, I see shoes peaking out from the divider, and I humbly approach and begin with the sign of the cross. Honor your father and mother, I get it but when you try to teach them how to use a cellphone…the words that came out of my mouth were horrible. I reflect how my words were so bad. I carry a lot of their guilt, they were not the greatest parents, selfish, and I seemed to carry their anger. How is that possible? Having parents from this particular generation is rough…especially now that they are elderly. It’s a hard headspace to be in. I wish I knew more about Jesus and his human relationship with his father, mother, grandparents. The arguments, the objections- his teenage years…I’m trying to be Christ like, I think I am going back to landlines.