Paper Hearts

Although Father Carlos could not see the grade three girl on the other side of the confessional, he could audibly picture what she was doing on the other side.

The paper she was unfolding did not give out the high crisp rustling pitch of something thin and light. Instead, it creaked with weight as if she was bending a defiant cardboard piece that finally groaned with resignation to her determination to reveal what she had written in preparation for confession.

“Bless me, Father for I have sinned!”

“That’s a pretty big piece of paper you have there,” Father observed.

“Yes, Father.”

“You must have written many sins on it,” Father said.

“Yes, Father. I only wrote two,” she replied.

“Only two for such a size?”

“But I also wrote the examination of conscience after my sins,” she explained.

“Oh, that’s why!” Father understood.

“My sins are: lying to my yaya and disobeying my parents.”

The priest was moved with the simplicity of the girl. He thought how wonderful it would be if we all had fostered such a condition of being simple and docile before God.

He then gave her some advice and how to later on make up for her sins.

“Now, you may say the Act of Contrition,” he said.

“Lord, Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner!” She prayed.

Father Carlos was struck at the brevity of her act of contrition. He was expecting her to recite the longer form as he himself learned it back in childhood. Still, it was a sincere act of sorrow and he proceeded to give her the absolution.

When the girl left, Father couldn’t get his mind off the lack of proportion between her sins and the size of the paper. Usually, it was enough to jot things down in a half or one-fourth sheet when confessing. Others even, through the years of experience, sincerely “write” the sins in their hearts and read from there.

As Father Carlos sat in the chapel he began praying by asking himself what that striking contrast might have meant. As he looked towards the image of our Lord’s Sacred Heart in the chapel, he was suddenly enlightened.

In his homily, Father Carlos shared the story about the girl and explained how similar our hearts are to that huge piece of paper. “How sad it would be, given how our hearts were created by God for loving greatly, that we end up only filling it with sins. As St. Augustine said, our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they rest in You!” There are moments that over-fixation for some sins or faults become the only content of our hearts.”

He then suggested, that it may be good to at least list down some good deeds we could accomplish for each day. These are not only our work at home and the office. These could very well be small hidden acts of love to God and neighbor.

He stressed, it is important to write them down on something, otherwise we may easily forget them with all the distractions our present day has to offer.

Finally, he added, let us also allow some spaces in our hearts, so that God will also be able to move us to carry out some unexpected good things through us.

* * * * * *

Later that evening, Father Carlos settled down in his study. Rummaging through the office materials beside the printer, he pulled out a huge sheet of paper. It was a light-yellow colored one and he gently spread it upon the table.

He then drew a huge heart, as much as the page could take, and under one of the heart’s top curve he wrote: Mondays – empty the trash can for the house cleaner; Tuesdays – feed the fish and so on. On top of these he wrote: Planned things to do.

Opposite to this listed some numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Beside each number he traced a blank line. On top he wrote: The unplanned good things that God has done through me.

He posted the paper beside his bedside, said his nighttime prayers, read the list again and switched the lights off to sleep.