A Fault-Finder’s Pilgrimage to the Confessional Booth

~ MMC 2.0

Finding Faults, Seeking Forgiveness, and Getting Bit in the Process

It’s that time of the year again… the pre-Easter confession. Fifty days of Lent, a spiritual cleanse, and one mandatory session of baring my soul.

Except, as I settle into a chair in the queue, waiting for the priests to arrive, I’m grappling with a fundamental problem: I don’t know what to confess.

I mean, I don’t lie. I don’t steal. I don’t do anything particularly scandalous.

I also haven’t dramatically improved since last year’s confession, so recycling my old sins seems like the most efficient option.

You see, I have this superpower… finding flaws like a metal detector at a penny factory. Every compliment comes with a built-in “but”… I’m like a food critic who can find fault with a Michelin-starred meal.

My brain runs on a special operating system: Catastrophe Premium™, perfect for risk assessment but terrible for peace of mind.

My wife, who apparently moonlights as the president of the “Glass Half Full Even If It’s Clearly Empty” society, suggests this might not be optimal.

Yet, my habit of finding faults in everything… despite repeated attempts at rehabilitation… remains stubbornly intact.

As I glance around, waiting for the priests to arrive, my mind drifts to last year’s confession… a theatrical event where I poured out my sins only to have the priest confess to the same flaw. It was like stepping into a spiritual ‘Inception’ scenario.

For a moment, I wonder if I can get away with the same confession this year. After all, consistency is a virtue… right?

I live under constant surveillance, and no, I’m not talking about my phone’s creepy targeted ads. My personal critic-in-chief happens to be my wife, inadvertently turning me into the Leonardo DiCaprio of domestic theatre… minus the Oscar, of course.

My attempts at portraying virtuous perfection are about as successful as a penguin trying to fly… theoretically possible, but mostly resulting in awkward flapping and disappointment.

My pristine image maintenance track record? Picture a toddler wearing white at a finger-painting party.

I’ve mastered the art of inappropriate humour, spraying movie quotes like a broken sprinkler system. My wife occasionally threatens to call the Department of Comedy Control, but I remind her that dad jokes are protected under the Geneva Convention.

Just as I start mentally drafting my confession strategy, divine intervention… or something eerily close to it… occurs.

A mosquito, minding its own business outside the church, suddenly experiences an inexplicable force guiding it toward me. It isn’t even hungry. But something… perhaps divine comedy at work… compels it to enter the church, locate me, and, with remarkable precision, settle on my elbow.

Now, normally, I would swat it away without a second thought. But I’m in a holy place. This is not the setting for a dramatic slap-fight with an insect. So, I endure. I grit my teeth and bear the searing sting of this tiny airborne tormentor as it takes its undeserved meal.

I rub my elbow and, at that moment, a revelation strikes me: this mosquito wasn’t just a mosquito. It was a message. A tiny, winged messenger reminding me that perhaps confession is not a place to simply ‘get away with my storytelling.’

Maybe my annual routine of repurposing old sins wasn’t as foolproof as I thought.

Last year’s confession had its own irony… I ended up in a theological tête-à-tête with a priest who shared my critical tendencies.

This year, it seems I got a real-time lesson in humility, delivered via divine insect.

I shift in my seat, arm still throbbing, and accept this newfound wisdom: I may continue to see the faults in everything, but at least now I know… sometimes, the universe sees mine too.

And while I write this story, I can easily visualize my wife shaking her head and saying, “See? Even God is trying to tell you something.”

18 thoughts on “A Fault-Finder’s Pilgrimage to the Confessional Booth”

  1. This was a brilliantly witty and introspective read! Your humor makes the self-reflection so relatable, and the mosquito moment was the perfect touch of divine irony. It’s a great reminder that sometimes, the universe nudges us in the most unexpected ways. Loved the blend of lighthearted storytelling with deeper meaning!

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    1. I’m glad that you enjoyed the humour and the little twist of irony… sometimes, the smallest things (quite literally, in this case!) have the biggest impact. Glad you liked the blend of fun and reflection! 🙏

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    1. One moment, it was minding its own business, contemplating life on a quiet windowsill. The next, an invisible force yanked it into a mission it never signed up for.

      So there it was, hovering near me, utterly confused, its wings buzzing with existential dread. “Why this guy? I don’t even feel like biting today,” it might have thought. But orders were orders. Whether they came through divine intervention or some cruel cosmic joke, the mosquito had been deployed.

      And thus began the most reluctant aerial assault in history.

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  3. Funny, MMC! So many great quips here. I loved this: “I’ve mastered the art of inappropriate humour, spraying movie quotes like a broken sprinkler system. My wife occasionally threatens to call the Department of Comedy Control, but I remind her that dad jokes are protected under the Geneva Convention.”

    Great morning chuckles all around! :-)

    Liked by 2 people

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    1. Glad you enjoyed it, Camilla!
      Yes, dad jokes are indeed a universal right. I’m just doing my part to uphold international humour treaties! Thanks for the morning chuckles in return! 🙏😀

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    1. Glad you enjoyed it, Roger! Huge thanks to Ben for the introduction.🙏
      Appreciate your kind words, and I hope to keep you entertained with more witty (and hopefully insightful) tales. 🙏

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  6. It’s funny how the smallest moments can carry the biggest lessons. I love how you embraced the humility in the situation, and I’m sure your wife has a good laugh at it all. Thanks for sharing your journey .

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    1. Absolutely, Willie! Life has a way of sneaking in lessons when we least expect them. And yes, my wife enjoys these moments the most… especially when these lessons manage to do what she’s been trying to convince me of all along! Glad you enjoyed the story.🙏

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  8. I’m glad that ‘Dad Jokes’ are a divine right. Sadly, mine are probably not well honed enough for sharing with a priest in the confessional. “Novum dictum quaerens”. 3 Hail Marys may just do it.

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    1. Ha! If seeking novum dictum becomes a penance-worthy act, then I fear we’re all heading for extended stays in purgatory… armed only with puns and punchlines. 😀Thank you for reading and for this delightful comment. 🙏

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