True Confessions

All Catholics know confession is good for the soul, but I am not a Catholic, I am a Southern-Baptist-raised “girl” practicing as a Methodist and as a rule, we keep our confessions between us and the Lord. I find that totally satisfactory!
When Art asked me to write a column, he suggested I write about an incident that happened shortly before Christmas. It was one of the most embarrassing moments in my life – so, of course, he wanted me to share it with the readers of the Herald. It just makes one wonder how much we should confide in our husbands! Is there a lesson here?
I have been writing false starts to this column for two days now. The going was pretty easy there for a few paragraphs about our horrible winter, before I realize that we have already killed that dead horse. Then I tried a few sentences about my computer – who cares about that? – Tear that one up – a trip to the farm? Save that until you get back and have something to say. A major case of writer’s block has caused me finally to capitulate and get on with my humiliating confession.
Some facts and merchant’s names have been changed to protect the guilty, but not mine; I have to hang out there and subject myself to all the, “Can you believe she did that?” comments. This feels a little bit like being the preacher’s wife or kids and being used to illustrate a sermon on what not to do. Oh well, here goes…
Pauline (my mother-in-law) asked me to take some items to the repair shop. (You see how I am protecting the merchant.) They were not functioning well and let us say, they needed an “update.” For about a week I carried them in my purse, hoping to get by the “update” shop. Finally, as I was doing some Christmas shopping, there was an opportunity to leave them and pick them up in an hour. Returning at the appointed time, I retrieved the articles, paid the bill, and walked out. Mission accomplished.
When the items were returned to Pauline and put back to the use for which they were made, she told me they were not working properly. It was really a busy time for me, as the kids were coming for Christmas and I didn’t promptly return them to the place where I had taken them for their “update.”
One month later, back to the shop, I went expecting just a quick, “Sorry they weren’t fixed, will try again,” Of course, it was not that easy.
The people in the shop were not the ones who had helped me before and I had no receipt. I thought my word about such a matter would be accepted and the small amount of money involved would affect neither of us.
The repairman looked into the body of the device and declared, “These are not my parts.”
“Well, I don’t know how they got in there, because this is where they were repaired,” I said with a little humor in my tone.
Soon we sounded like two siblings arguing. “No I didn’t!” “Yes you did!” Neither of us would give an inch because both of us knew with everything in us that we were right.
Now here is the very hard part. I am an even-tempered person and those close to me know that I almost never lose my temper, but he insisted I was lying and only trying to get something free. The use of the “L” word to someone who grew up never being permitted to call anyone a L_ _ _ (you know how to fill it in) was the spark that lit my fuse.
In a restrained but angry voice, I told him I would never come in his store again. (Restrained means a low growl, but Mother, I promise, I did not shout). The merchant was delighted to hear I wouldn’t be back, and told me so.
Our exchange ended with me grabbing the items and stomping out of the door. I am still looking for the temper I lost that day. I wish I could stuff it back into where I have safely monitored it for all these years. Who was that woman in the store?
If I were like one of those celebrities who find themselves caught in embarrassing situations, I would say, “That’s not who I am,” and, “I’m sorry for anyone whom I might have offended.” The truth is not in that statement, because the awful fact is, we all have that trigger point which causes us to explode, and yes, that is part of who I am. I really lost my cool and now have confessed to all who are reading this. Do I feel any better for making my confession? – not really, just a whole lot humbled. Is there a chance that is the point of confession?
Patricia Hall
From the Bible: Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you will be healed. James 5:16