And there I was again. Waiting outside the confessional, in line once again for my monthly reconciliation. Many things go through my head. I join the queue, rejoicing mentally when the queue is short and I don’t have to wait. Then, I look at the name of the priest outside the confessional. Sometimes, I would groan inwardly.
“Oh my gosh, this priest is NOT a good confessor.”
“Oh no, Fr _____ knows me too well!! Argh…it’ll be SOOOOO awkward”
“I hope they don’t recognise my voice”
And occasionally, “YES! Just who I was praying for!”