Forgive me Father

"Go-o-oh, Mia", Consuela insists as she pushes me towards the confessional booth.

"Stop pushing me!" I snap back at her. Years of carrying buckets of water up and down the foothills of her tiny Bolivian village have made her stronger than she knows.

She glares at me. I stare back, slightly defiant. I start to walk towards the booth. Consuela hustles quickly towards the front alter; the rubber from her dollar store slippers clacks against the marble floor and echoes throughout the church.

I slip into the booth. The confessional window slides open. Silence.

"Uh, this is my first time here" I tell the priest. "And I'm not Catholic. My housekeeper is convinced that I'm riddled with evil demons, so I'm here to confess my wrong doings. It's getting warm out, I used to go to the sauna to rid me of negative thoughts -- mostly about ex-boyfriends, but it's getting too hot for the sauna. I thought that maybe by getting some things off my chest I could alleviate some of my emotional burdens -- and possibly loose some weight in the process because I heard somewhere that guilt creates stress which creates extra abdominal fat. But, like I said, this is my first time here and I don't really know what I'm doing".

There's a pause.

"Well," says the Priest, "I'm not sure about the weight loss per se, but it will definitely help to confess your sins to God. Start with the worst and work your way backwards; until you feel you've released everything."

"That's it?" I ask. I'm slightly confused by the simplicity.

"That's it, my child" he says. Even though I can't see him I can tell he has a smile on his face. Like he possibly knows something that I don't.

"Well..." I start, "...we could be here for a while. Did you maybe want to go use the washroom first?" I ask.

"I'm fine" he chuckles.

"Hold on a second," I say. I open the door and peek out to check on Consuela. She's bowing feverously at the front alter; a black lace kerchief covers her head. No doubt she's praying for my eternal soul. I slide back into the booth.

"Well," I say to the priest. "I really feel bad about the bad stuff that has happened to me. Am I allowed to talk about that? Or are those people responsible for confessing their own stuff? Should I just be focusing on the stuff that I have done to other people?"

"God has a way of dealing with everyone in his own time," the priest says. It's cryptic, but I think he wants me to focus on me; and what I've done -- not what other people have done to me.

"OK, well, I feel really bad about snapping at Consuela. She's really good to me -- she brought me here because she believes that I'm possessed by evil spirits and that I need an anointing or something to wash myself clean of them. Do you guys sell that stuff here? I don't think I really believe in evil spirits - but I know that I could be a much better person sometimes. It's just hard, you know, because people can be cruel. It's hard not to be tough and rise above it. It's not like I'm Jesus or anything -- no disrespect. He's a great man; I have a lot of respect for him and his peace walk, believe me when I say I do, because it is so hard not to lose your cool sometimes. Like the other day Consuela was throwing away some magazines before I was even done reading them and I almost snapped at her because I hate it when she does that; and she always does that, but I didn't snap because I know she is just trying to do her job. Anyhow, that's a small example of me trying to be a good person -- but I think it's a lot harder to be good all the time, you know, like how Jesus was".

I pause for breath.

"What else is troubling you?" the priest says.

"Well, I used to be a really angry person. And I feel really bad for anything mean that I might have done to anyone -- because it wasn't about them, it was about me. So I feel bad that I hurt them -- because, I don't think deep down I am a bad person. I just have a low tolerance sometimes. I could list some examples; like when I was younger I fought back with a girl who was being mean to me and I pushed her and she stumbled down a few steps. I feel really bad about that. And then I also kinda beat up a girl once who was moving in on a boyfriend -- at the time I only felt bad about kicking her with steel toe boots; but now I actually feel bad about the whole thing -- because I wouldn't want anyone doing that to me. But for the record, and I'm sure God knows this, she did lunge at me first. Oh, and then once I had a horrible fight with my friend in grade 9 because she was stealing the phone from me while I was talking to my boyfriend..but she started it..."

I pause for air. This is great. I actually am starting to feel better. I continue:

"You know, I'm actually starting to feel better. You Catholics are really on to something. I should have done this a long time ago. I could do this every day, I mean, I could go on for hours -- but I won't because I really need to get my day started. But I really enjoyed this, and I will definitely be back. Should I write you guys a check or something? Who should I make it out to? Oh, and where could I get that anointing that Consuela was talking about?"

I really could sit in this little booth all day -- despite my rampant claustrophobia and the fact that it looks remarkably like a coffin.

The Priest tells me that a donation is not necessary but appreciated, and that the anointing comes from God and the Holy Spirit once your soul is clean -- or on the right path. So I thank him and exit. Consuela has just finished lighting a candle. I wait for her by the entrance, and we go home.