Step 10

When I was a child my father usually gave me the option of confessing my sins to God or a spanking. It was a no-brainer even for a toddler. Dad made getting things right with God seem like a very good thing, and long after the deal was off the table I persisted in the habit of confessing my sins as soon as I realized I was sinning. I owe my Dad a lot for fostering that kind of joy maintaining a clear conscience.
Somewhere in those mildly random moments of childhood, I met a little Catholic girl and in awed tones she told me about confession. The very idea terrified her, and she was glad she had awhile before first communion. I thought the whole idea was awesome. An official place to say goodbye to mistakes and sins. What could be better than that? When I was younger, and certain I'd never be Catholic, I wondered if the priest would notice or care that I wasn't Catholic if I stepped into the confessional. There were numerous times when sins seemed so complicated I'd never make sense of what was right and what was wrong, when I longed for the comfort of someone else thinking it through with me.
The confessional lived up to my expectations and then some. I find that after I've made confession I have new strength to resist temptations and there is a freedom and moral clarity I can't imagine finding any other way. My heart can find its way to happiness again without the strain and stain of sin.
This story begins Here.