January 24: Busy Night, David Shumate, "Teaching a Child the Art of Confession"

I've had a busy night.  Lots of running around, getting things done.  Bought a new battery for my garage remote.  Dropped my daughter off at ballet practice.  Corrected quizzes from my film classes.  Recorded the grades in my grade book.  Finished up my lesson plan for Monday.  And now, for my final trick, I will type my second blog post of the day.

I've heard nothing new about my sister's condition.  Nothing about her heart test or discussion with the facial surgeon.  She was also supposed to see a neurologist today, as well.  I guess they're not sure if the infection has affected her brain.  Haven't heard anything about that, either.  It's strange, but I really have this feeling that she's going to be fine.  I don't know why.  Perhaps I'm simply not willing to entertain any other alternative.  Maybe it's faith.

I have a prose poem for you from a poet named David Shumate.  It's about confession and forgiveness.

Saint Marty was drawn to it for some reason tonight.

Teaching a Child the Art of Confession

It is best not to begin with Adam and Eve.  Original Sin is baffling, even for the most sophisticated minds.  Besides, children are frightened of naked people and apples.  Instead, start with the talking snake.  Children like to hear what animals have to say.  Let him hiss for a while and tell his own tale.  They'll figure him out in the end.  Describe sin simply as those acts which cause suffering and leave it at that.  Steer clear of musty confessionals.  Children associate them with outhouses.  Leave Hell out of the discussion.  They'll be able to describe it on their own soon enough.  If they feel the need to apologize for some transgression, tell them that one of the offices of the moon is to forgive.  As for the priest, let him slumber a while more.

An apple sounds pretty good to me tonight