12/27/18 7:00 AM
I have a confession to make: I haven’t been to Confession in 30 years. And it isn’t from a lack of respect for the sacrament. It isn’t out of pride. I’m just chicken. My last foray into Reconciliation is still etched in my mind: Standing outside the confessional, I was a panicked 11-year-old—hands sweating, head spinning, legs shaking in my gray corduroys. The priest grew irritated quickly. Little wonder: I could barely spit out a sentence. The act of pleading guilty to my crimes was just too awkward, too daunting. So I never went back.