Twenty-four hours for the Lord

I recall waiting outside the room where the priest was hearing my classmate’s confession back in third grade. It was the day of my first confession and I was a little nervous. I kept repeating over and over again in my head the one sin that was on my “list.” When the door finally opened, I walked in and sat in front of the priest, who welcomed me with a reassuring and fatherly smile. Encouraged by his demeanor, I blurted out my sins as fast as I could and raised my eyes to see his reaction. He looked at me with kindness and asked, “Is that everything? Don’t you have anything else to confess?” “Is that everything?” I can’t recall exactly how I felt in that moment; maybe I felt some fear for having done “a...