I don’t go to confession (or reconciliation – which  is the correct term, I believe) very often. Far less often than I should. And I admit to leaving the sanctity of the confessional with mixed feelings about sex and sexuality and am a terribly hypocrite for at least a week afterwards (like the child who tries to be good, starting 48 hours before Christmas, to make up for having been so rotten the previous 11 months and 3 weeks.)

But I will say this – 2 out of 3 times, something good happens to me within a few hours of receiving absolution.

This time, I found out that my cousin’s kidney is a match for me and that a transplant can go through. I’m not saying this is causal, but it can feel that way sometimes.