I have always felt a little gypped about missing out on Confession. Do you capitalize Confession? It feels like it should be capitalized. Anyway, it isn't so much the thought of having my sins absolved so tidily. It is more the poetic mournfulness elicited by the image of going into the little dark confessional and speaking penitently through the screen to some mysterious, wise, and unseen individual about such wrongs as yelling at your sister or sneaking a look at your Christmas presents before they were wrapped.
Luckily, I have come up with my own way of experiencing Confession! I will simply begin confessing on my blog. Since we can't see each other it is kind of like being on opposite sides of a screen. The mood is a little lacking since there are no stained glass windows or the dim light of candles, but it will have to do.
Here we go. First Confession (Oh my goodness . . . sorry . . . I know you were on the edge of your seats, but when I typed "First Confession," I recalled one of my favorite short stories of the same title! Here is a link if you want a fun little read -- later, of course, after you've finished MY fun read and are left wanting more: First Confession by Frank O'Connor).
Alright, really now. My first confession (it lost the capitalized oomph when I took so long to actually get to it):
Beyond my tendency to throw away papers and receipts that later prove to be absolutely indispensable, I wash things . . . lots of things . . . things that are not supposed to be washed -- cell phones, gum, crayons, the other crucial papers that I haven't already thrown away, wallets, toys, etc. The other day I pulled Mike's headphones out of the wash and thought, "Huh, well that is a new one." I discovered later, however, that it wasn't a "new one" at all when Mike, with a tone of far too little surprise (more a tone of mild interest and resignation), said, "You washed them again?" At least that means they must have survived the first time! And, I gave a whole new meaning to the term, "money laundering" when I managed to wash a large wad of cash Mike had just pulled from the bank.
There, confession complete. I would have preferred if I'd been able to bow my head in shame and shed a tear or two, but that would have made typing difficult.
Lest this seem too aimed at one particular religious practice, I will also add that I feel equally gypped by never getting to participate in the Relief Society "Good News Minute" (since I haven't been in Relief Society for years). I will be stealing my niece Ashley's idea of putting good news minutes on her blog -- just as soon as I think of a "good" good news minute. You know, something that will be equally uplifting and edifying to all -- just as every other thing I ever put on my blog is.