In teaching Confirmation this past year, I have been on more retreats, and attended Mass than I originally thought I would be doing. On days that I was teaching my kids, as I’ve come to call them, I went in the morning at my own parish so that I could pray and focus on the Sacrifice, as the evening Mass with my kids after we finished teaching would be spent shushing them and reminding them to spit out their gum.
Through out the year I have found time to pray for my kids, and fretted over them like a spiritual mother hen.
Then I was so nervous for them on Friday evening when they were received the Sacrament of Confirmation. Here, they are, standing before God and Church, Angels and Demons, declaring that they are Catholic. Were they ready? Would any of them return for Mass on Sunday of their own volition and Love of God? I spent the Mass and remainder of the evening praying that they would. I did all I could for them, invoking the protection, guidance, and love of the Angels, Saints, their Guardian Angels, and the Patrons they had chosen for themselves.
But if I constantly and consistently worry over these teens, their ability to understand and defend the Faith and against Satan, what was I letting God do? So, in the wee hours of Saturday morning, I let go, grabbed my St Benedict cross, and went to sleep.