Don't pray unless you mean it.
Our parish had its Lenten reconciliation service this evening.
When I first heard about it a few weeks ago, I had mentioned it to my dh as a "gee don't you think it would be a good idea to go" sort of thing. Since he didn't say anything more about it, however, I tried to put it on the back burner. [I gotta be honest here: while I am thankful for the Sacrament, I can't say I jump for joy at the thought of going to Confession. I know, I know, that's horrible...]
I have, however, been asking St. Joseph to intercede for my dh, that he would continue to be the incredible husband, father, and spiritual leader of our family that he already is.
It should NOT have come as a surprise, therefore, that my dh called me this afternoon to ask if the Reconciliation service was this evening. When I told him that it was, he said he wanted to go.
Now for part 2: As I said, I *tried* to put Confession on the back burner, but the thought kept flitting around in my head anyway. I came up with a rather generic list of sins and figured that was good enough and brushed the thought away.
Until dh called and said he wanted to go.
Now a more sincere examination of conscience was in order.
No sooner had I tossed up a "Lord, what should I confess?" than a very specific incident came to mind. One that I had already repented of many years before, mind you, but had never been officially brought to the Confessional.
I tried to squirm out of this one. I really did. "Lord, You can't be serious... PLEASE! Don't make me confess that one. I said I was sorry! You know I repented of that!"
Still, it wouldn't go away. Not in a condemning manner, but in a more insistent "you really need to do this" sort of way.
So, I laid out this proposition, knowing full well that this was soooooooooo unlike anything my dh would say. "OK, Lord, if this is really You asking me to do this, then let dh say that we need to all go as a family tonight."
You see, dh is a MAJOR homebody, and he would never, EVER suggest we take ALL the kids out close to their bedtimes. Uh-uh. Not his style. Not even close.
Obviously, you know where this story is headed. He came home, looked me in the face, and said, "I think we need to all go this evening."
No getting out of this one. That answer was crystal clear.
So, we all got ready and I trudged my little self to the nearest available line and did what I needed to do. While I can't claim to have heard angels singing, or even the slightest little "flitter" of fun emotions, the priest DID say that where the humility needed to bring our sins to this Sacrament meets with Almighty God, a floodgate of grace is opened.
And can't we all use all the grace we could possibly get?