I knew I should be out shooting, but there was a small chance I’d get to watch Marcos play his second Rugby game. The Mount played Navy this weekend.
I caught the Prem #1 team via the Navy’s website.
Man, the Navy’s Rugby team is awesome.
The Mount stuck around for the first half of the game, but Navy trashed The Mount in the second half.
I didn’t catch the second half because my mom called telling me my Tia finally moved out to relocate to Seattle with my cousin.
My Tia had lived with my mom for eleven years.
Mom went on to tell me that for the first time in her life, she was finally able to buy the groceries she wanted.
Apparently, Mom had always bought what either my brother and I wanted, or my Dad, or my Tia. Now, after a lifetime of being a mother, wife, and sister, she could get what she wanted.
And at least for the next ten days, she’s finally going to live alone until we bring her to Austin.
My mother is a woman that has paid her dues and then some.
I couldn’t be happier for her.
So mom took up the second half, and I couldn’t find Marcos’ game. I found out later, I didn’t miss much, because Marcos said Prem #2 fared about as well as Prem #1.
So I showered and tried to go find Marcos’ girlfriend’s soccer game in Georgetown, but Lucy had gotten the date wrong. It’s actually today at 11 AM.
So Lucy and I went to lunch, and I decided to confess afterward.
I couldn’t remember the last time I went to confession.
While trying to prep for confession, I try to remember the last time I went since it’s always a good to start off your litany of sins with, “it’s been X days/months” since my last soul cleaning.
And I couldn’t place the last time I went to confession.
Not being able to place it tells me it’s been too damn long. So I hedged my bets and said six months. But I’m still not so sure.
Of course, it doesn’t matter if I get it right, it’s not like God is keeping tabs.
You really only tell the priest so he can have a sense of the penitent on the other side of the scrim.
Confession, or as it’s called in some places, Reconciliation (I like Confession), is one of my favorite practices in Catholicism.
For me, Confession is spritzing Frebrezze after you’ve cleaned the house.
You can repent for your transgressions at any time. God is open twenty-four seven. If you repent with a sincere heart, you’re square with the house.
I once heard the analogy that Confession is like cleaning your car. Yes, you cleaned it, but you can, if you choose, get detailed enough to enter the car show.
The absolution is the detailing.
It felt good going.
We got to talk to Marcos for an hour about the game and The Mount.
Then Lucy and I relaxed and watched a movie and some more Big Theory before calling it a night.
All in all, it was an okay Saturday.