“There are many ways to say sorry,” I tell Junior as he sullenly glares at me when I ask if he’s ready to apologize. Last week he was banned from his grandmother’s house until he could evidence contrition for a recent battle of wills. I was not present for the episode but when I arrived for pickup one party was visibly agitated while the other had their head buried under the couch cushions and refused to put on shoes. I’ll let you guess which was which.

Over the next few days, gentle reminders of the impending apology only cause more sulking; there is some shame in it, beneath the general stubbornness, that I can’t pinpoint. But I can see his brain working on the problem, because we are scheduled to visit tomorrow, and he wants to go. Then I have a rare moment of parental insight.

“You know, some people say sorry with a note, or a card, or they make something for the person they wronged. Would you like to apologize in a different way?”

Bingo. He would like to make a card. And what a card it is. We fire up the hot glue gun and add a half pound of pom pons, buttons, ribbons, and other decoupage. “Nanna loves yellow and red,” he says cheerfully.

“What would you like to say?” I ask.

“Write: Dear Nanna, I’m sorry I wouldn’t put the squeaky fish in the pink bag.” Then he says to me, very matter of factly: “That’s what started all the trouble.”

I wish this bright ray of clarity would pierce my cloud of confusion, but I still don’t have a clue what happened with the fish, the bag, and my mother.

In the Anglican tradition, confession looks like this:

Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor.

Silence may be kept.

Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name. Amen.

Book of Common Prayer, 1979. Holy Eucharist: Rite II (359-360)

I have been steeped in a low simmering rage over the behavior of a government whose purposefully misleading information and selfish greed have now caused many, many deaths. Of course I believe they owe me and the general public some serious contrition. But I haven’t spent much time in prayer asking how I’ve wronged others. Wondering what I’ve left undone. Finding my own selfish greed.

Do you owe anyone a glue-gunned card? Lent is a great season for pom-pons.