by  Vera Grant  AMMM                                             Ireland                    15.07.2026   

Having been unable to get to my usual Saturday’s Vigil Mass I decided to go on the Sunday morning at 10am. It’s the children’s mass and there is a junior choir accompanied by the more senior folk group…all very enjoyable and the music with violins, guitars, keyboard and some flutes can be very uplifting.

I was reminded that the First Holy Communion had been on the previous day when I saw the white dresses appearing in the aisle. I say appearing as it was a cloud of white froth and the children couldn’t get into the pews but had to wait in turn for each mother to navigate the girls slowly and sideways to move and position themselves into the seats. It was like being at a concert and watching the dignitaries in their finery, glide slowly to the reserved seats in the front rows.

At the back of the chapel I sat, watching all, soaking up the excitement at this real sense of an occasion and tried to remember what it was like for me on my own First Communion. Nothing came to mind about the day itself, but what forcibly hit me was that each one of these 8-year-olds had already made their first confession in preparation for the big day. I wondered if they had been like me?

I remembered vividly that day. I was 7 years old as we received the sacrament in Primary 3 and not, as now, in primary 4. So being younger, we were led by the teacher to the chapel where the priest waited in his confessional box. We sat in rows, moving up one place after another until it was your turn. By then I was so nervous, I was afraid that I might forget something and not make a good confession as we had been taught. I was embarrassed too, that I had so many sins that the priest might keep me for ages or he might shout at me. Nothing like that happened, he was lovely and listened attentively to all I had to tell him until he told me to say my act of contrition and granted me absolution.

I opened the door and stood to let the next person enter before kneeling down to say my penance. I felt like a saint, cleansed of all my sins and thought, “I am never going to sin again“. We had to wait until the following week for the First Communion Day when we too could put on our white dresses. For me that was one of the longest and hardest weeks ever. I didn’t want to commit any sins, and I tried so hard to be good, to do what I was told, no arguing, no answering back, no faces and definitely no fighting or name calling with my sisters. I was being so pious that I thought I could become a nun when I grow up.

Alas, temptation got in the way and every night saying my prayers I was telling God how sorry I was and that tomorrow I would do better. I smiled at this picture of the ‘young me’ and thought, nothing has changed! Every day brings new trials and temptations, tempers get frayed, annoyance and frustration seep in and before you know it you are back on your knees promising God and yourself that tomorrow is a new day and I will do better.