My Hair Shirt

My Hair Shirt: Sins of Omission

As a child playing one sunny Saturday morning, probably making dolls clothes, my mother invited me to accompany her to Church to go to confession. This was not uncommon, in fact rather boring, as a Roman Catholic it was usual before mass particularly on a holy day of obligation, in order to a accept communion. I politely declined. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done wrong. I’d done my chores and hadn’t even been fighting with my brother Jon. This latter was most unusual as sister baiting was one of his favourite pastimes. 

“No Thank you Mother Dearest” I replied,” I have no sins to confess” to which she uttered the fateful phrase

 “But, what about your Sins of Omission?”

The things one hasn’t done, an endless list of tasks that I’ve woven into a hair shirt I wear to remind me of what I should do and ought to be