Today I had to substitute for a reading class and the kids had to read their independent reading books for the majority of the period. Towards the end of the period, a kid came up to me and asked if he could borrow a stapler.
I asked him what he needed a stapler for. Theoretically the only thing he should have been doing (and the only thing I saw him doing) was reading his book and you don’t need a stapler for that, right?
I looked again and the only thing he had in his hands was his book. Again, I thought this to be very odd.
He told me that he wanted to staple the book so he didn’t lose his page. He was going to put a staple through the first 35 or so pages and the front cover because he was sick of losing his page. He said he tried folding down the corner of his page but it kept coming back up!
I said I didn’t think this was a very wise idea. I suggested that he take a piece of loose leaf paper and fold it up a few times and make his own bookmark. I told him that on his free time he could even color it and customize it.
He told me that I was a genius.
Just when you thought you had seen it all, right?
I went to a Lenten prayer service at my Church tonight that was given by a visiting Franciscan Friar. At the end of it they had Confessions. I was really worried about it because I haven’t been to Confession in a very long time. I was really determined to just do it tonight. Say all my sins and be absolved! I walked up to the altar… my knees knocking… all I could muster was a tiny whisper…
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been 12 years since my last confession.”
“Why have you been away from the Church so long?” the friar said.
I explained that, in fact, I had not been away. I was closer than most. I’m quite active in my Church but Confession is just one sacrament I haven’t received in years. I sing at Mass (I’m the leader of song) every Sunday – sometimes two or three times a weekend – and I am at Choir practice during the week. I went to Catholic school for 6 years and then went to a private Catholic College. I sing lots of religious music too. Heck, I even have a Great Uncle who is a priest.
I told the friar my sins, all my deepest secrets that have been plaguing my heart and soul for so long, staring at my feet the entire time. I stopped, took a deep breath, and look up at him.
He laughed, and asked me if I was sorry for my sins.
“Of course!” I squeaked, appalled that he would even ask such a question. Then I remembered it was part of the script.
He told me I was absolved of my sins, and to go in peace.
I stared at him for a moment. “That’s it? Don’t I have to say Hail Marys? Our Fathers? The Creed? The Rosary? Anything?”
He laughed at me and told me to go do a good deed or something.
I was insulted. This was 12 years worth of sins that I just professed and he laughed in my face like I was a child. An insolent child! Silly Caity… your sins are cute… now go keep being good.
I guess in retrospect it’s a good thing. It’s better to have cute sins than really horrible, unspeakable sins. I am still angry, though… he shouldn’t have laughed. They are still my sins and they still weighed me down for 12 years.
