confession, Marian Consecration, and the panty party at Victoria's Secret

You know how you fully intend on going to confession, but you end up at Victoria's Secret "panty party" instead? No? Just me? Whatever.

Here's the deal. It was the day before my Marian Consecration. (and after trying to spell "consecration" 8 times, I finally had to just get up and look at the book cover. Lord, have mercy on me, I am an idiot.) And it is suggested...not required...but suggested, that one makes a good confession before the big, glorious morning.

Well, here is what is wrong with me.

If you suggest something that is the better way to go, I want to go that way.

Go big or go home.

That's my motto.

Not really.

That's a lie.

I have no motto.

This also is so not what is wrong with me.

Trust me.

Plenty is wrong with me.

And this is not it.

Anyway, the point is...if I am going to give myself to Jesus, through Mary, and it is preferred that I make a good confession first, then that is what I will absolutely, 100% do.

Now, crazy coincidence it was, but the day I planned to go to confession, was also the day that Victoria's Secret was having their "panty party." Something like, buy 7 pairs of underwear for $28 dollars. I also happen to be an "angel", which means, I get rewards. What kind of rewards? I have no idea.

And I thought I was being clever. I told my girls that if they went to confession with me, I would take them to the panty party! And if you have teenage girls, and are familiar with the ocean of opportunities for mindless spending on overpriced t shirts, leggings, and lotions at PINK, you understand what a sweet deal this was. (I would also like to point out that the Victoria's Secret I shop at is one of the lovely ones; helpful salesgirls, bright lights inside, and no videos of nearly naked women with feathers playing on a loop while club music is blaring.)

So, off we all went to confession. Thirty minutes early, even! I filled my bag with all sorts of prayer books--guides to confession, guides to confession for teens, my little book of popular Catholic Novena's (not to be confused with the book of unpopular Catholic Novena's. Just kidding. I made that up.) --I was all set to make one heck of an awesome confession. Until we pulled into the church parking lot.

There was a funeral.

We circled for a while.

We pulled in and out of spots.

We circled again.

And when no cars in the lot were moving and the time for confessions was beginning, we assumed that there were no confessions being heard that afternoon.

And if so, even a panty party couldn't get my girls to parade into a stranger's funeral to check things out.

So we left.

Sinful and unclean, baggage and junk.

And that's just my girls.

(another joke. sort of. not really)

We spent over an hour at Victoria's Secret panty party. And let me just say, the word "party" was a gross exaggeration. There was no cake or goodie bags. No pizza. No dancing. No wine. It was a sale. Underpants were on sale. And barely even that. The trip was pointless. But we happily found many items we truly did not need, yet made us feel temporarily happy, and as I reached into my bag to get my wallet, I said out loud, "Why is this bag sooooo heavy?????" Then I remembered...all those prayer books. And so naturally, I felt the inappropriate need to share this with the lovely, underpants selling, cashier.

"My bag is full of prayer books, because we were on our way to church to go to confession but there was a funeral or something and so we never actually got to go to confession and so we came straight here and well, we bought underpants instead of going to confession, which I know sounds crazy, and I probably now need to confess that, but I mean, we did try to get there...just didn't work out for us today, which stinks because tomorrow is my Marian Consecration day and I really was hoping to make a good confession...but oh well, at least I will have nice underpants to wear for it."

My two girls might have dropped dead right there at the register.

In case you are wondering, my morning of consecration was glorious. And tomorrow, God willing, I will make a good confession. (Stupid thing to say...God willing...of course He is willing.) And I just can't help but believe that on some level, God gets a kick out of the ridiculous situations I so often end up in. And who knows, maybe I am the only "angel" that has ever dared to boldly share her faith with the cashier at Victoria's Secret. And if that is the case, well then maybe, it wasn't a pointless trip after all. Maybe that is my Victoria's Secret reward.