I took Dark-Haired Daughter with me. She always gets really nervous about confession, because she can't remember the prayers and procedures. Our pastor had published a "how-to" guide in the bulletin on Sunday, and I told her she could take that with her.
When we got to church, though, anxiety was running amok. She didn't want to go to just any priest; she wanted OUR priest. Where was he going to be? When would it be her turn? What if she forgot what to do?
Right before the service began, I stopped our pastor and told him Dark-Haired Daughter was afraid she'd forget what to do. He said, "Oh, no, no. Do not worry. I will help you every step of the way. So will each of the priests here. Do not worry."
After she went to confession, she was glowing. I mean it: she was shining with grace. "He knew I had something on my mind. It felt so good to tell him." I reminded her that when a priest was hearing confessions, it was just like talking to Jesus. "Yes," she said, "it was like that."
I went to confession as well, and felt that peace that the sacrament brings. But how joyful to see her, unburdened, and to know that those priests were so joyful in their ministry of reconciliation with God our Father.
Do you go to Confession enough? I don't.