Former fabulist Peter Burt turns Father Confessor for this latest volume of sensational exposés. Boldly breaking all professional taboos, he reveals the shocking secrets whispered to him through the confessional grille by a whole rogues' gallery of unrepentant sinners - from a DIY universe creator to two suburban friends who practise wife-swapping by means of astral projection, from an undercover literary agent to a large molecule who has deserted the military. Shudder at the dark secrets Father Burt has courageously brought out into the light of day - and ponder whether any spell in purgatory would be long enough to cleanse this vast array of miscreants of their heinous crimes.

Rediscovering Confession is about recovering the experience of confession, in danger now of becoming a lost art. It identifies four elements present in psychotherapy and confession: a state of heightened self-awareness, a growing realization that our predicament points in some meaningful direction beyond itself, the necessity to make a relevant response to our situation, and a potential for spiritual encounter that accompanies the process. Each chapter contains a section devoted to practice, with exercises for individual contemplation and experimentation, guidelines for forming a confessional partnership, directions for conducting discussions in a study goup, and ways to organize a small confessional group.

This first book from a caring new voice for woman features candid talk on unspeakable marriage issues.

Sometimes I just let my children fall asleep in front of the TV. In a culture that idealizes motherhood, it’s scary to confess that, in your house, being a mother is beautiful and dirty and joyful and frustrating all at once. Admitting that it’s not easy doesn’t make you a bad mom; at least, it shouldn’t. If I can’t survive my daughter as a toddler, how the hell am I going to get through the teenage years? When Jill Smokler was first home with her small children, she thought her blog would be something to keep friends and family updated. To her surprise, she hit a chord in the hearts of mothers everywhere. I end up doing my son’s homework. It’s wrong, but so much easier. Total strangers were contributing their views on that strange reality called motherhood. As other women shared their stories, Jill realized she wasn’t alone in her feelings of exhaustion and imperfection. My eighteen month old still can’t say “Mommy” but used the word “shit” in perfect context. But she sensed her readers were still holding back, so decided to start an anonymous confessional, a place where real moms could leave their most honest thoughts without fearing condemnation. I pretend to be happy but I cry every night in the shower. The reactions were amazing: some sad, some pee-in-your-pants funny, some brutally honest. But they were real, not a commercial glamorization. I clock out of motherhood at 8 P.M. and hide in the basement with my laptop and a beer. If you’re already a fan, lock the bathroom door on your whining kids, run a bubble bath, and settle in. If you’ve not encountered Scary Mommy before, break out a glass of champagne as well, because you’ll be toasting your initiation into a select club. I know why some animals eat their young. In chapters that cover husbands (The Biggest Baby of Them All) to homework (Didn’t I Already Graduate?), Confessions of a Scary Mommy combines all-new essays from Jill with the best of the anonymous confessions. Sometimes I wish my son was still little—then I hear kids screaming at the store. As Jill says, “We like to paint motherhood as picture perfect. A newborn peacefully resting on his mother’s chest. A toddler taking tentative first steps into his mother’s loving arms. A mother fluffing her daughter’s prom dress. These moments are indeed miraculous and joyful; they can also be few and far between.” Of course you adore your kids. Of course you would lay down your life for them. But be honest now: Have you ever wondered what possessed you to sign up for the job of motherhood? STOP! DO NOT OPEN THIS BOOK UNTIL YOU RECITE THESE VOWS! I shall remember that no mother is perfect and my children will thrive because, and sometimes even in spite, of me. I shall not preach to a fellow mother who has not asked my opinion. It’s none of my damn business. I shall maintain a sense of humor about all things motherhood.

Time and again He teaches it to me. And it's beginning to get inside my bones. That the answer to everything - every question, every need, every moment - is to confess His name. God whose name is the gospel. God whose name speaks who He is. And my greatest need - indeed, my only need - is to worship Him. For all grace has already been given. I have only to open my mouth and confess - and in the confessing...I feast. It started in a blog in the dead of winter. It became a life-changing journey. I willl never be the same. It takes five books just to tell the tale. Come join me, won't you? Come walk the journey with me. I pray that when your journey is done, you won't be able to stop worshiping. I pray you won't ever stop confessing and feasting on the name that is above every name. The name that is the answer...to everything.