As I write this, I have tears streaming down my face; these are tears of joy and gratitude.
Reconciliation?
The Lord had been working overtime on me for the last several years.
But my addictions of pornography, lies, and self-importance—won me back almost every time.
On the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul two years ago, He did to me what He did to Saul. God knocked me down from my high horse.
My marriage was in trouble.
Driving to my office that morning, I was listening to the radio and happened to tune in to a Catholic radio station, The Station of the Cross, in Rochester, New York. EWTN’s Mass broadcast had just started.
As I listened to the readings, the Lord touched my heart. He helped me to see my life and how far I was from Him. I cried like a child in my car. As I was parking, sobbing like an infant, I resolved to find my Ananias.
Father Peter Abas, a priest at St. Anne’s in Rochester, was the first and only priest I could think of. I left voice and e-mail messages asking if he could see me that night.
We played phone tag throughout the day. Father Peter thought if the Holy Spirit wants it, he will come. At six-thirty that night, I got into my car trusting the Lord would lead me to see Father Peter. At seven o’clock, I drove into St. Anne’s parking area. Father Peter was waiting and hoping that I would come.
We went into one of the small private rooms in the rectory, and I knelt down and asked Father Peter to hear my confession. I started by telling how heavy the burden was on my soul. My tears were a cleansing flood, as I recounted, amidst sobs, all my sins. It seemed as if my confession lasted almost an hour.
Like the Prodigal Son, I told my Father I was not worthy to be called His son. Father Peter took a clean sheet of paper, crumpled it in his hands, opened it, and said, “See how ugly this is?” I responded, “Yes, it is a very messy looking paper.” He said, “Look at the lines here, and here, and here—don’t they look nice? This is how God sees you—so pleasing to Him that He can only love you.” And of course, I cried some more, a mixture of joy and shame in my tears. Joy because He did love me and did not throw me away from His sight, and shame for rejecting Him from my life.
When I received absolution, my soul felt light, and I started to see a new path. Unlike Saul, my eyes did not see everything immediately. But He showed me enough to help me walk home to Him.
Like the Prodigal Son, I told my Father I was not worthy to be called His son. Father Peter took a clean sheet of paper, crumpled it in his hands, opened it, and said, “See how ugly this is?” I responded, “Yes, it is a very messy looking paper.” He said, “Look at the lines here, and here, and here—don’t they look nice? This is how God sees you—so pleasing to Him that He can only love you.” And of course, I cried some more, a mixture of joy and shame in my tears. Joy because He did love me and did not throw me away from His sight, and shame for rejecting Him from my life.
When I received absolution, my soul felt light, and I started to see a new path. Unlike Saul, my eyes did not see everything immediately. But He showed me enough to help me walk home to Him.
Leodones Yballe
Rochester, New York 101 Inspirational Stories of the Sacrament of Reconciliation