First Reconciliation: A Gift

Our parish does the kids' First Reconciliation on a weeknight in January.  I sometimes have flexible hours at work, and managed to make this one an early release day.  It was a gift, those extra 2 hours to prepare.

The day also happened to be our youngest son's birthday!  So my mom had come to visit, for both events.  She volunteered to watch the 2 year old and let us take the 7 year old for Confession to focus.  Which felt odd... but was nice.  A gift.  (Even if older brother complained that the younger was missing ALL THE IMPORTANT STUFF and it wasn't fair.)

My husband got out of work on time, and traffic wasn't bad, so he arrived before the service started. Celebrating with the man who forgives my everyday impatience and selfishness, cementing a relationship over 16 years in the making:  gift, gift.

At the priests processed in, I realized we knew five of them.  All good men.  All give good advice.  All knew my family, even if just a little bit.  Gift, gift, gift.

Midway through the service, I saw the director near the altar, helping kids light candles. I realized (again) how if I hadn't switched jobs last year, that would be me: helping all the kids.  I felt a surge of appreciation for this director, who was both competent and kind, who worked hard to arrange for this sacramental moment for us.  Gift.

Then I relaxed again, able to ignore everyone and just focus on my boy.  He looked all spiffy in his white shirt and bow tie, looking older with his recent haircut.  He was in line for the candles, and when he looked back and saw me, his face broke into a joyful grin.  He flashed two thumbs up, then jammed his hands into his pockets and turned back toward the altar.  A joyful, bucket filling, priceless gift.

As I headed to a confessional line, a mom I am just getting to know stopped for a whispered pleasant exchange.  A new friendship is always a gift, but especially when a move has other friends so far away.

Time was running out, but my preferred priest's line wasn't going anywhere.  I saw an empty line and quickly switched, registering too late that I usually never go to priests with whom I work.  I was extra nervous, he was extra kind, understanding and merciful.  Gift.

Absolution after tears, the releasing of heavy 'stuff' ... the grace of God poured out, and peace flooding my every cell:  all visible gifts of invisible love.

Afterwards, ice cream with the whole family, celebrating life and forgiveness and each other: true gift.  May we come back to this experience  seventy times seven, as many times as it takes to keep our family together, stronger, gift for each other and grateful to the One, True, Living God for making it all possible.