All is not black and white

I went to confession tonight, Well, at least I tried to go.  I visited my old parish, the one I belonged to for twenty something years.  The one my kids received their sacraments at.  I have only been formally  away for a little over a year, but it feels like an eternity.  I sat at the bench waiting for the door to open, but nothing.   An old friend came and sat by me and whispered,"It is so good to see you."  Then she told me that Father..... had already left the confessional.  It was about 3:35.  I had remembered that confession ran from 3:00 to 3:45, but if I got in by then he a priest who was not saying that mass would hear my confession.  As I left, the greeter at the door said." It seems to me confession ends at 3:30.  Wow, the only confession besides a private appointment for the entire parish weekly and 30 minutes was more than adequate.  That made me really sad.  I wondered to myself, why did I even try to go there?  Maybe because I thought about the priest and the many confessions I had made with him. Maybe because I prefer to go to confession at least every other week and my confessor  cancelled this week.  I don't really know.  Maybe it was just because I was suppose to see my old friend and feel the warmness that is felt when seeing her.  I don't know.  This church is so different than mine.   I find myself lost in a space somewhere between loving the Traditional church and trying to understand what God wants me to do with all the feelings I have for my OLD church.  I am not really comfortable at the Norvus Ordo mass anymore.  I really like having a priest who is not afraid to teach the truth, with no frills, no jokes,just complete reverence and love.    I know God wants me to bridge my thoughts instead of Loving one and condemning the other.  I find many TLM goers do just that.  I can't.  I love all of these people and know they want to serve God as I want to serve God.  I left the church almost in tears. In my head I was hearing "It is not always Black and White. " When I heard these words in my head, I pictured My priest and Some Benedictine nuns that I know.  I pictured the crisp Black and white conservative  dress, they choose, to me, that represents their traditional thoughts and  actions.  Then I pictured the Franciscan priests in this parish, whom wear a Habit of grey.  Even though  I prefer the first, I can't stop loving and trying to find my place back to this very loud and colorful parish.  I don't want to pray this way, BUT I do want to understand what God wants me to do with all of these thoughts.    For now I hold them all inside where they agitate and sicken  me.     Then I think to myself, " Maybe that is why I prefer BROWN.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.