Word of the Day: vox populi I've not been honest these past few years. I've left out a giant struggle that's been going on in my soul. I'll try now to remedy this in detail, bringing myself closer to a complete confession. After I found out I was pregnant, I stopped going to church. I went once after I moved in with JD, but it was awkward. I felt ashamed to be in God's presence in the state I was in. The obvious thing to do stared me in the face--confess, seek absolution, do penance, and reconsile myself to my God. I knew this was the only way for me to be settled in my soul, which felt like a black, gaping hole. However, I could not. I realize now that it was pride, humanity's most enduring flaw, that stopped me. With my pride I reasoned myself out of my admittedly weak resolve to confess and regain peace in my soul. As time slowly passed and I worked out the most practical aspects of life, I kept telling myself, 'After so-and-so is accomplished I'll go back, I'll make things right.' This resolution lasted no more than a few hours, days at the most. There were times when I considered praying for patience or strength, but I felt that I would be hypocritical of me to be asking God for help when I wasn't honoring Him. Perhaps that was wrong, but I felt, and still feel, that it was correct in my situation. I don't know what it was, if it was one things specifically or a culmination of things, that made me resolve to make things right. I'd look at Patrick and think of how perfect, how healthy he is, how God's taken care of him even thought he's not yet baptized. I'd hear Christmas hymns on the Muzak at work and start tearing up because I wanted to loudly proclaim and shout, to prause. I read a biography for Stephen Colbert and discovered he's a devout Catholic and teaches Sunday school. Now, if someone like Stephen Colbert can find time for his faith, I certainly can. However it happened, the week between Christmas and New Year, I decided that I would return myself to my God on Epiphany, the day the wise men came to acknowledge and praise Jesus. Friday evening I forwent my knitting and began my examination of conscience. I wanted to be as prepared as I could possibly be, and as thorough as well. I copied out an Act of Contrition, remembering bits I learned as a little girl, preparing for my first confession. Even then I was terrified. Not proud as I am now, but terrified, scared of God being so big and me being so small and frail [this, I'm talking about my soul rather than my body]. There's a reason why the act of penance is so difficult for Catholics--pride not withstanding, it's hard to sit down in a box with a person you barely [or don't at all] know and tell them you're a liar or an adulterer or a thief or even worse. It's hard to admit it to yourself, and then you have to speak that truth aloud. I know it doesn't matter what the priest thinks of you, that you're supposed to concentrate on the relationship you have with God, but I can't not acknowledge the shameful position you're in during confession, from a purely human standpoint. It's easy to be afraid of that position, however shameful or difficult it might be, but that's a part of confessing, part of the process. All Saturday, this is what I felt--fear of shame. However, every time I would think of it, I forced myself to remember the good, the absoluting and blessing I sought. The trought of being cleansed in my soul, of being back in God's light, made this fear bearable. In all actuality, the act of penance is not as negative as one might think. All the focus is usually on the admittedly frightening, shameful part. However, that result, that absolution, is what should be the focus. In confessing your sins and receiving absolution, a whole world full of God's love and grace is unlocked. When I went into the church and knelt to pray for the first time in literally years, I was shaking. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it thumping in my ears. I couldn't think of what to say except, 'Thank you' over and over, but God knows what's in my heart. I confessed, shaking and crying, and I received beautiful absolution in the same state. Then I sat for an hour in absolute joy and peace, which I haven't felt in years, before Mass started. I felt calmer than I had for a while, not worrying about things or hating things, but just sitting, planning, thinking, feeling. Mass was beautiful [as it always is, with or without me and my state of joy] and my soul was happy indeed. Father Harrold's sermon was on how there are epiphanies everywhere, in every sacriment, and he went through them all. When he started talking about penance, I started crying. That was the exact reason I chose Epiphany as my return, becuase I wanted to, as the Mago did, do homage to the King Jesus. That love and grace I received from being absolved manifested itself in my heart and on my face through my tears. I could have sworn that, as he lectured, he gave me a glance or two. I wonder if he thought of me and wondered at God's grace. Whatever the case may be, I know my soul is content. Now that I think about it, I just finished reading Crime and Punishment. Perhaps Raskolnikov's confession and subsequent conversion, his choosing of life, combined with the influences mentioned previously, convinced me to return to my faith. Everyone suffered in that novel--Raskolnikov for everything, Razumikhin for Dunya, Dunya for Luzhin and her brother Rodion, Pulcheria Alexandrovna for both her children, Svidrigailov for his various vices and violence, Sonya for Katerina Ivanovna, her step siblings, and Raskolnikov. Everyone's suffereng for their own and others' actions, and everyone handles their suffering differently--Sonya turns to God, Katerina Ivanovna dispares and finally dies, Svidrigailov shoots himself, Dunya turns to and leans on Razumikhin, Luzhin leaves town in shame, Pulcheria Alexandrovna hides from the truth, and Raskolnikov, choosing between confessing and desth, chooses life and eventually finds his faith in Siberia with Sonya. I have suffered these past few years, my soul has suffered. Being shown the different types of suffering and various outcomes might have had an unconsious impact on me and influenced my decision. Whatever the case, I suffered long enough. Now, that is very nearly over, and my soul is joyful.