Another Sunday

            Another Sunday, another chance for a confession.  God, I needed it, too.  It had been so long since I had been back in church, and I was starting to feel empty again. There was a part of me that lived in those pews, and I missed it terribly.  How long had it been, two months? More? I’d honestly been kind of afraid to go to church. After screwing those people the way that I had, did I still belong?  It was time to find out, I couldn’t take the stress of keeping everything inside anymore.  I needed to know that I could be forgiven for those things.  All of this was buzzing around in my brain as I tried to make myself get out of bed.  I finally did, if only by rolling a little too much to one side and falling off. That was the push I was looking for, honestly. I was glad to be away from that treacherous mattress. From the floor, I got up, dressed myself in that suit I hadn’t worn in so long, and made my way to church.  Thank God.

            The sermon was nice, but I must admit I did not pay a whole lot of attention to what the priest said.  I was lost in the feeling of being back where I had wanted to be for so long.  I sat there, looking at the inside of the building and the backs of my friends’ heads, watching the priest’s hands gesture in the air as he talked, felt the bible in the little pocket of the pew before me (I love the feeling of those little gold leafed pages), and just being lost in the glory of it all, in general.  When the service was over, I quietly went to the confessional booth, sat inside, and waited for the priest to come and speak to me.  After a few minutes, I heard the door on the other side of the booth slide open, some muffled footsteps, and another slide as the door closed.

            Before I could say anything, I heard a deep breathe in, and “Forgive me, my son, for I have sinned.”

            I’m not sure if the silence that followed was awkward or amusing for him, but I was caught off-guard.  What do you say in response to that? “I’m sorry, what?”

            “I have sinned.  I promised our Lord that I would confess to the first person to be in our confessional, that it would make a better situation. I’m not sure where that idea came from, but does it hurt to let you know that I am human, as well?”

            “No, I guess not. But I thought you were supposed to be better than human: the connection between the masses and God.”
            The priest sighed. I could almost hear his heavy heart, beating. “No, I am all too human.”