Candy Girl.

My husband always wants to know what the heck I do to warrant going to Confession so often.  I don’t tell him, but I also don’t think it’s that often (maybe once every couple of months or so).  It’s a good practice, I think, the way going to the doctor for a physical is.  But you go more often to the doctor the sicker you get, don’t you?

I go to Confession at the Oratory, a campus ministry center that houses a 24-hour/7-days a week Eucharistic Adoration chapel.  It’s really awesome to have Adoration right there all the time, and the confessionals are awesome too because they are pitch black.  Like Elijah’s cave-type-black.  And it’s just you and this old metal grate and the priest on the other side and you feel like you might be talking to God Himself when you confess (if the priest answered in a Pittsburgh-ese accent, that is).

During Confession today I talked about how I tend to have this one particular sin that I can’t get rid of.  I confess it all the time, but I just can’t shake it.  I likened it to eating candy.  “It tastes real good,” I told him, “But you know when you eat too much of it and you get sick?”  He murmured in the affirmative.  “Well, I’m sick,” I said.


I “eat a lot of candy,” and I don’t always mean that I sin.  There’s stuff in my life that’s just pure sugar – watching True Blood, for example: there’s nothing “nutritional” at all whatsoever about it – it’s just pure fun and entertainment, but too much of it and I just feel gross.  (But let’s not confuse that with all TV: Breaking Bad starts soon, for example, but that’s not candy.  That’s medicine.  Seriously, best show ever.)  I work at a Starbucks, and if all I had there all day to eat were our pastries, I’d be in bad shape.  Sure, they taste good every once in a while, but if I ate them all the time, I’d be about 50 pounds heavier with a much more sallow complexion.

But there’s a lot more to life than candy – I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.  That we can’t always be MTV; sometimes we’ve gotta be PBS.  There’s the meat and fruit, the corn and potatoes, the salad and the pasta.  The stuff that makes our life nourishing.  The Bible studies we go to, for example.  Sunday Mass each week.  Pulling out our Bibles and giving it a read before bed.  A rosary said in the car on the way to work.

What nourishes you when it comes to your faith?


After Confession today I felt much better.  Maybe next time I’ll even make an effort to go before I’ve gone and gorged myself on too much of the world’s sugar!

4 thoughts on “Candy Girl.

  1. I think you mean if God answered in a Pittsburgh-ese accent, ha. Now that would be funny. I mean, if God pronounces his name Gawd, who’s to say he’s wrong?

  2. I definitely think that I am much less likely to sin when I go to confession more often, I think it’s that I don’t want to ruin the minty fresh clean feeling (kind of like when I don’t want to eat after getting my teeth cleaned at the dentist because they just feel so good!). But I haven’t gone in almost a year…uh oh, I think it’s about time!

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