"I don't like this part of the journey."
"And which part do you like?"
He asked as if I've complained about every part of it along the way.
I laughed and said,
"The part where I have some serenity regardless of the circumstances."
So went my afternoon with Fr. Charlie.
Close to the end he asked me if I still wanted to celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation. I looked at him and said,
"Have I confessed enough?"
The whole session had been one long confession....this is who I am...this is what I did....this is what I said....this is what I felt like doing....this is what I harboured in my heart.
Lord, oh Lord, have mercy.
I am never more certain of how desperately I am in need of mercy than during Reconciliation. It is a balm to my soul.
Tears flowed as a vision of healing oil pouring over my entire being
flashed through my mind during absolution.
There is a God and I am so not it.
My difficult conversation this morning went. End of sentence.
Before I got out of the car I told God I had not one iota of courage to say what I had to say, but that I knew it needed to be said, so please give me the grace to do it and a measure of charity to boot.
In the end I didn't make any friends. I don't think I made any enemies, either. Neither is my concern.
I said what I had to and am relieved to have it behind me.
Tonight I read this postand had a snot nosed cry because essentially in that difficult conversation this morning I was saying, "I'm sticking up for those who are powerless and if you act like a Mutha F*cker, I've got their back."
How I wish someone had done that for me as a child. I know all too well feeling frozen and powerless. As I read Pam's post my body remembered that place and the emotions were overwhelming. It was as if I was a little girl all over again. There are no words for that place. I felt like a little bit of that place was redeemed today - those times when the mutha f*ckers in my life should have been cold cocked by someone. Hmm. I have never used that term MF before and I'd resolved to not swear on my blog this year. Forgive me, it's one of those phrases that I want to say a dozen times in succession tonight and beat the crap out of something at the same time.
I hated that conversation this morning.
When I say gutsy things dearest one tells me
I've got me some balls.
They must have been tucked up into my pelvis when I was a kid.
I'm no hermaphrodite.
It's only by the balls of God's grace
that I spoke up today.