He Loved Me First ✓

He Loved Me First (13)

Chapter 13

Felicity grinned at me and took me by the hand. “Come on,” she said.

I figured she'd be taking me to the priest that was assigned to the church right next to the adoration chapel. We went to her car instead. A little ways down the road I asked, “Where are we going?”

“To see Father Pius,” came her reply.

“Really?” I was surprised, but this was one of the best surprises I'd had in a while. “I'd hug you if you weren't driving.”

“I thought you might say that.” She smiled at me again.

“Thank you.”

“I like this new Oliver a lot,” she said. “He's so much happier.”

“I do too. But I can't believe that I was such an idiot for so long.” I sighed.

“That's what confession is for,” she told me. “We need healing and forgiveness and we get both from the sacrament of confession.”

“This is true,” I said.

“You'll feel so much better afterward. I know I will too. I've been meaning to go for a while, but sometimes I can be such a chicken. Now I have no excuses.”

“I get it. I used to go only when my mom made me. I wouldn't ever go on my own.”

She laughed. “I think everybody was like that at one time or another.”

“Perhaps.” I smiled. There was a short pause until I said, “Isn't it funny how everything in our lives can change completely in such a short amount of time?”

“It absolutely is! But it makes sense. When we let our walls come down, everything can change in an instant.”

“Why must you always be so wise?” I teased her.

“Wise? I'm not wise in any sense of the word,” she insisted.

“Sure you aren't, Felicity,” I told her. “You know more than almost anyone I know.”

We talked about who knows what the rest of the way. It didn't matter what we talked about. What did matter is that Felicity and I grew closer that day. I know it seems impossible because we were already so close before, but with God all things are possible, right? I thought so.

We finally made it down to the church, and walked through the youth retreat room in the basement to the office area. I knocked softly on the door, hoping someone was here. It was a Thursday afternoon so I wasn't sure there would be.

When the door opened, I asked Father Pius, “Do you have time for two really quick confessions?”

He stared me down, then said, “I don't think one of these will be that quick, but I can always make time for last minute confessions.” He knew me well enough that my confession wouldn't be the least bit quick, but he didn't mind.

“You should probably go first,” I told Felicity.

Thankfully she said, “Okay.” She went into the office and closed the door behind her. I sat down in the hallway, trying to figure out just what I should be saying. I prayed to the Holy Spirit for guidance.

I stared at the door and eventually it opened. “Your turn,” Felicity said with a bright smile on her face.

“You feel better now?” I asked, voicing what looked rather obvious to me.

“Yes! I feel great now,” she said. She gave me a hug for encouragement, then added, “And you will too.”

I took a deep breath and walked through the door, making the third life changing decision I'd made in the past 24 hours. I sat down in the chair across from Father Pius. He led us in the Sign of the Cross. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” I said. “It has been,” I paused and tried to remember just how long it'd been since my last confession. “6 years, maybe more, since my last confession. I don't know.”

“I don't even know where to start,” I said.

“Start with why you're here,” he suggested.

I sighed. “I'm here because for the past five years, I've literally turned my back on God. I feel terrible about it. Why was I so stupid? Why did I think that God didn't exist? Why did I allow myself to believe something I knew wasn't true, that the world came to be simply by chance? It doesn't even make any sense.”

“I'm going to stop you right there before you go beating yourself up any more.” He looked at me so kindly. I could really see Jesus in him at that moment, offering me love and mercy, and it made me want to cry.

“Okay. So I guess what turned everything around was Christmas presents. My sister told my parents to send me her old Bible, and they got me a copy of the Catechism as well. Felicity got me two CD's by a Christian band I knew my sister really liked. I played one of them and the songs just really got to me. I ran down to the adoration chapel and stayed there for five hours, but it didn't feel like it was that long. Five hours for undoing the last five years. Felicity asked me if I wanted to go to Mass with her tomorrow and I said only if I could get to confession today. That's why I'm here.”

There was a period of silence as Father Pius took in what I was saying. It felt like eternity. Finally he responded with “I don't know if I really have to say anything to you about this one. You know that you were putting yourself above God, even if you didn't believe. Atheists too, have their gods, but they don't call them that. Money, power, fame, etc, as I'm sure you know.” I nodded thinking of how I had put Felicity on that pedestal. “Do you have anything else to confess?”

I had, and so I did. I don't remember what I said, nor what Father Pius had to say in reply, but I do remember my penance. He told me, “I want you to laugh, and find a way to make someone laugh today.”

“Laugh?” I asked, confused.

“Christians should laugh more than anyone else-laugh from sheer joy, that God bothered to make us, and that He continues to love us despite the idiots we are. Everyone is a sinner, but Christians are sinners redeemed- an undeserved rescue that we make even less deserved by everything we do. It is too serious a matter to be serious about: all we can do reasonably is to rejoice.”1 He added, “I will also have you pray five decades of the Rosary.” He absolved me and I left feeling like a hundred pounds had been taken off my shoulders.

1Catholic Calendar, May 26 (Saint Philip Neri, Priest)