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Date Posted: 09:09:33 03/01/06 Wed
Author: Sylvia Mohr Bartlett
Subject: The Confession of Bud Roberts
In reply to: Dorothy Miller and Sylvia Mohr Bartlett 's message, "THE Confession of Bud Roberts" on 09:08:07 03/01/06 Wed

THE CONFESSION OF BUD ROBERTS

By Dorothy Miller and Sylvia Mohr Bartlett

Another in the Father O'Malley Series



Bud Roberts stood waiting with the closest thing to patience he could muster for his very pregnant wife, Harriet, to get the boys ready to go to the babysitter. This was the day he had been waiting for all week. Harriet was going to a day spa for some much needed pampering. He would be going over to the church to help Father Ken with the preparations for the Angels of Mercy Annual Garage Sale and Clothing Drive. Forget Fridays, which were still work days - THANK GOD FOR SATURDAY!

This was to be a special weekend for the adults ~ primping and pampering for Harriet at the spa; and the bonus that Bud would be free of the responsibilities of work and home because the boys would be gone until Sunday afternoon.

Mommy and Daddy needed a little responsibility break and some quality time together. Things had been bumpy between them the last few weeks. Harriet was pre-occupied with setting up a nursery for the two little boys to come, so the care of little AJ and Jimmy, in the evenings, had fallen to Bud. His long days at work with a new CO had grown even longer with the additional parental duties.

The combination of day to day cares, his work, and the new responsibilities of his promotion had combined to stress both Harriet and Bud's relationship in ways their marriage had not been tested since the dark days after baby Sarah's death.

“Harriet, if we don’t get a move on, you’ll be late for your appointment and I’ll wind up working with old lady O’Leary again, honey?" Bud shouted up the stairs to Harriet.

“I’m coming! Are the boys in the van? Got the clothes for the drive? Keys to the door? What about your wallet and watch?" Harriet retorted at the same decibel level. She was moving as fast as she could to get downstairs and out to the van. She sincerely hoped the little break they had planned would improve her husband's temperament. She had quite enough to contend with being bigger than an aircraft carrier with his new babes on board. Did Bud really have to complicate her life more by being such a grumpy, old bear these past couple of weeks?

“Yes, everything and everyone is on board except you.” The sarcasm could be heard in his voice. Bud locked the house door and moved to the driver’s side of the van once Harriet got in and was moving to buckle her seatbelt safely.

Once Bud had all of his passengers delivered to their destinations, he sighed and admitted to himself he needed the break in things this day would represent. It wasn't really fair to Harriet that he was as irritable as he was. She was carrying twins after all. That had to be even harder than his own struggles and challenges. Bud tamped down the regret and allowed himself the luxury of looking forward to his idea of fun.

Working a clothes drive and garage sale may not be considered fun by most people, but Bud found the company of Father Ken O’Malley so enjoyable, that nothing else could dim it.

Father Ken and the garage sale allowed Bud a chance to interact with adults that did not require a deep commitment from him. He could work today and go home without any worry or care added to his already brimming plate.

After unloading the family’s contribution to the garage sale and clothing drive, he went to find his friend and fellow officer. He rounded the corner by the small gathering hall to find Father Ken deep in conversation with a young woman. She was holding hands with the priest.

Bud hung back, not wanting to intrude on their private moment. He recognized the woman as the mother of the young marine whose flak jacket had failed. Bud and Lt. Col. Mackenzie were still investigating the manufacturer of the jackets. So far there were discrepancies found in over 150 jackets vs. government specifications.

“Mrs. Smithfield, let me know if there is anything else that either I or Commander Rabb can do. I know that your daughter is a close friend of Mattie Grace. Maybe both girls would like to speak together with a counselor. It is usually easier for the one who wants the counseling to have a friend as support with them. I have spoken with the Commander and Mattie. They both care for your family a great deal. Just call anytime.” Father Ken patted the woman’s hands. They then lowered their heads in a prayer of remembrance for her young son. Father Ken blessed her as she walked away.

Bud moved into the priest’s line of vision. “Well, if it isn’t me friend Bud. I’ve saved you a place in the booth with Mrs. O’Leary. She loved working with you last year!” The priest laughed at his friend's expression.

Bud scrunched up his face as if he had swallowed a lemon. He rubbed his ears and stretched his neck. Mrs. O’Leary had a tendency to continually apologize for her relative and the Chicago fire. Bud had heard the story and all of its variations in the 4 years that he had been volunteering at the church event. Each year the tale got longer and more convoluted. “Ken, maybe I should help the ladies at the food tent. They may need some help serving the food.” Bud looked hopefully at his friend for approval.

“Well, me bucko, I guess that would be all right. I have the Jackson boy who needs to do some penance. I’m sure that Mrs. O’Leary can provide in that department.” Ken patted his younger friend on the back. He turned to Bud. “Bud, I noticed that you seem to have recognized Mrs. Smithfield. Did you know her son or husband?” Ken moved his hand to Bud’s shoulder.

“Neither, Sir. The colonel and I have been running an investigation into the flak jackets provided to a number of units in Iraq. The jacket that her son was wearing was one of the first that we found anomalies with ~ specs for his jacket and some others seem to be different than the specs required by the Marine Corps. We are still investigating the matter. No decision has been made yet as to any illegalities. We will be presenting our findings the first of the year. A special lab is running the tests for the Navy, Marines, and the Army.” Bud stood with his hands in his pockets.

“I see, me boy-o. Did you know that Harm was helping Mrs. Smithfield and her daughter? He has made sure that her daughter has an opportunity to receive counseling. Mrs. Smithfield has become part of a wife/survivor support group. It is helping her a great deal.” Ken motioned for Bud to join him on a bench in the courtyard.

As they sat down, Bud turned his eyes to the sky. “No, I didn’t know. That sounds like something the Commander would do. He is always there for others. He stayed with me after my accident. I found out later that he could have been charged with dereliction of duty and failure to follow a direct order. Fortunately, Admiral Chegwidden gave him and Mac a way out.” Bud squirmed at sharing this information.

Ken had come to know Bud pretty well. Bud was normally confident and highly articulate except when speaking about things that deeply troubled him. Now was such a time. There was this sense of hesitation on both of the men’s parts to get into a heavy discussion right now. “Bud, we have a lot of work to do today. Stop me if I’m wrong; but I feel that you might need to, as me friends from down at the AME church would say, 'Take it to the Cross.' Am I right?”

“I think you have hit it on the head. Let me finish today up and we’ll get together before I leave. It has been too long since my last confession.” With that, the two friends went to their separate booths for the day.


Bud wound up helping Mrs. O’Leary anyway. He spent the better part of the day trying to sell and/or get rid of her Irish moss jelly. It smelled bad and tasted bad. She contended that if you problems with your lungs, kidneys or bladder, then you needed it to get you well. Bud felt like a traveling medicine show man hawking the stuff for its restorative properties. All he needed was the bowler hat and bamboo cane. Honestly, this was not the way he had hoped to spend his day, so he was relieved when it was over.



It was late in the day when Bud was able to get away and seek out his friend and confessor. Bud found him in the small church.

Father O’Malley was kneeling in the back pew area preparing himself for the Saturday confessions. He had already placed the purple stole around his neck. As he bowed his head, he prayed for guidance, strength, and courage. Most people seemed to think that the priests who heard confessions had it easy. That all they had to do was hear a bit of dirty gossip or such, a few prayers, a blessing and then everything was ‘was washed clean.’

It would have shocked the majority of folks to realize that most priests dreaded the confessions to be heard. Confessions placed more stress, burden and guilt on the confessors than the sinners. The sinners came to unburden themselves. The burdens they left behind in the confessional remained on the shoulders of the priests. Very few people realized that the prayer that the priest said at the end of their confession pertained as much to him as it did to them. It was just as hard for the priests to lay their burdens at the feet of our Lord, as the parishioner.

Father Ken felt prepared this particular Saturday, though he was bracing a bit for Bud's confession. His gentle friend seemed truly troubled by something.


Bud approached Father O’Malley. O’Malley looked up and motioned Bud to sit. “Here or in the confessional? It might be a bit more private there.” Ken knew that Bud liked the anonymity of the confessional.

“I’d rather just sit here, Father.” Bud made the sign of the Cross and began. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been nearly a year since my last confession. I have not been a good follower of our Lord. I’ve used curse words in front of my wife and children. I’ve stretched the truth when needed. After all, I am an attorney. Sometimes we have to take certain measures to get the real truth out of a situation. Things we morally may abhor.” Bud looked at Ken.

“Keep going, my son. I’ll save me comments about attorneys and truth for later. Just get to the crux of your problem.” Father O’Malley leaned forward and placed his hands on the hands of Bud.

Bud drew courage from the priest’s touch. He sighed. As he tilted his head up to look into the vaulted ceiling of the church, a lone tear ran down his cheek. “I am still so mad about the loss of my leg. Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? It's so hard to let this go!

"Everything I do is overshadowed by my lack of a leg! Did you know that Little AJ told me that since I couldn’t run on the grass too well, he would get his Uncle Harm to play football with him?
What kind of father can I be to my boys?

"I can’t even carry the laundry basket up the stairs for Harriet...and Lord knows she is carrying a huge extra burden already with the pregnancy.

"Father Ken, what am I going to do with two new mouths to feed? I can’t even provide properly for the family I have, on my salary. If it weren’t for the inheritance from Harriet’s grandmother, we wouldn’t be able to afford the house we have.

"Thankfully, we don’t really have to worry about college funds for the kids either. Harriet’s parents have that taken care of. I should be thanking my lucky stars, but I find myself wondering what kind of provider am I, can I be?

"It was sheer providence and the kindness of the Admiral pulling in one last favor or I would not have made Lt. Commander.”

Father O'Malley gently intruded on Bud's stream of thought. “Slow down, Bud. Let’s stop and reason this out together, me lad.” Ken leaned back, to allow Bud to regain his personal space.

After a few minutes, Ken spoke. “Now, start at the beginning. And, I mean, the very beginning. If your guardian angel be right, we need to start somewhere else before we have a prayer of dealing with the answers to your questions.”

The words tumbled out of Bud’s mouth. “My father. He makes me so mad! Sometimes, all I want to do is punch his lights out. Yet it is the violence that I abhor.

"The whole time we were growing up the only attention we got was the back of his hand. He left us months on end for sea duty. When he was in, he was drunk most of the time. As soon as our sister could, she got out. She is married to some guy out in Utah. We haven’t seen her in 10 years.

"I went into the Navy to get away from him. Mikey was forced to join the Navy. Our childhood makes our lives such a mess. I’m so afraid.” Bud took a moment to catch his breath.


“What are you afraid of, my son?” Father Ken knew the answer, but he wanted Bud to put words to his thoughts.

“I am afraid I will turn into my father.” Bud placed his hands over his face. He composed his emotions, before daring to look at his friend. “My brother and I have been on the outs. You know that I blamed him for AJ disappearing. I have tried to make it up to him, Father O' Malley, but, well, it still sticks in my mind that it was Mike’s duty to keep AJ safe. He failed.

"Couple that with all this stuff about the sailing accident. Why does he look up to people like that sailing instructor? The man did not want to take responsibility for his actions."

"When is Mike going to grow up? I can’t keep looking out for him.” The frustration came through, in Bud’s speech and hand gestures. If his missing leg not been an issue, the young man would probably have been both pacing and gesticulating.


Father O’Malley gathered his thoughts a few moments, before he spoke. “Bud, it is natural for you to feel like a father to Mike. You assumed the real burden of raising him since you were a mere tike yourself. That having been said, Michael is an adult now. You are going to have to let go. He must assume responsibility for his own actions. Know ye not that such is the way of the world? The Lord allows us to fall down but helps us rise back up. We will do this time and time again in our lives. Michael must find his own way now. There are limits the distance a parent figure of any sort can travel with us, me boy-o. Time to stop exceeding yours… You must not add to the already heavy load on your shoulders trying to continue parenting a grown man.”


Ken knew that he was addressing Bud’s concerns in reverse order. “The Lord asks us to forgive others as we forgive ourselves. Have you forgiven yourself for what happened with wee little AJ? If not, how can you forgive Michael?

"Look into your heart, my friend. For surely there, you know that you did nothing wrong. Mike did nothing truly.” Ken placed his hands on Bud’s shoulders. “The same events would have transpired, if you had been with your boy, my son. Your little AJ has a mind of his own. He chose to go with his wee friend. I am sure that you had a bit of a conversation with him about his disappearance.”

“You're right about that! I tried my best not to lose it with little AJ. Things have happened since where I haven't been able to contain myself. I am not comfortable with spankings. Harriet is the disciplinarian in those cases.” Bud shifted in the pew, a bit uncomfortable with this turn to the conversation.

“Well, my friend, one thing I know for certain sure is that that you do not beat your children.”

Bud looked at Ken with shock on his face. “NO! Not a beating. I swatted him on his butt, just the one time. I felt so bad about it that I told Harriet that any physical discipline would have to come from her. I will not hit any of my children. No matter what.”

Ken smiled at how his friend had reacted. “I know that you don’t have it in you to truly harm any child. Bless you my son for your sense of gentleness. Teach by example not by fear.”

“That's easier said than done, padre. How can I be an example, when I feel I have been reduced to less than a full man?”

Bud was trying to wallow in self-pity, but Father Ken was having none of that.

“What ‘part of a man’ are you talking about? Have any of your friends said anything disparaging about you? It seems to me that you’re the one who needs a swat on the butt. You have a loving wife, two adorable boys and two more wee bairnes on the way.

"You fought hard to stay in the Navy, with the support of friends and family, and, by God's grace, ye not only succeeded in staying in, you have been promoted to Lieutenant Commander.” The priest folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s just that I always feel like I have to ask for help. Help at work. Help with the family finances. Help with everything!” Frustration laced Bud’s words.

“Well, aye, young fellow me lad. Wallow in thinking real men should never need help. Be all macho and do everything by yourself. If you adopt that attitude, you will have turned into your da!” The padre’s words were infused with so much sarcasm, that Bud blinked in surprise and looked hard at the priest. Bud had never heard Father O'Malley express any thing less than patience.

Bud guessed maybe his own whining had crossed the line, especially when the priest continued. “I know the idea of “it takes a village to raise a child” is not foreign to you. What you have with your family and with your friends at JAG are truly a village; a village of friends who need to be needed. Take my word on this. Your part in their lives is just as important to them as they are to you.”

Bud had never really thought that the people at JAG needed him. His mind was in a turmoil trying to process the thoughts dumped on him by his friend. Was what Father Ken said true? Had Bud been thinking too much about himself?

The young man pondered these questions with a renewed vision. He knew that he would have a great deal to work through, after this confession.


One question still bothered him greatly, though. Bud hesitated to broach the subject with the priest. Taking a deep breath, Bud took the plunge. “I have failed my best friend.”

Ken had slumped back in the pew. At these words, he sat up straighter and waited for the young man to explain. “Go on, my friend.”

Bud took a deep breath. “I let him down. I was not there for him, when he needed me. He took care of my family when I was not able to. He has helped me in so many ways. He has been my mentor, best man, older brother, pal and so much more. Yet, when he needed me last year, I shunned him. I always believed in him, but still I did not help him when he needed me. I never made the effort to personally go and find him. Instead of listening to my heart, I listened to others who I thought knew more about things than me.” Bud took another deep breath, but one which seemed a bit less strangled. This breath released a great deal of internal pressure.

Father O’Malley found himself stunned to hear a third confession in which one of the major ‘sin’ was 'not being there' for one Harmon Rabb, Jr. What were the odds that the fall out from Harm leaving JAG would affect so many people?

First, Sarah Mackenzie, next up, Sturgis Turner, and now, here was Bud Roberts. Father O'Malley found himself pondering if he really did need to hold a group confession, after all. Actually perhaps it would have to be more along the line of a group counseling session! Being a counselor as well as a priest, he was qualified in either case.

Father O’Malley thought for a minute, before he asked a question which Bud and the others may not have considered. “Bud, did this friend of yours ever place any blame on you? Did he ever once express his disappointment in you, or anyone else? Has he done or said anything at all to give you cause to believe he no longer considers himself your friend?”

“Nothing, Ken. He seems to have moved on with his life. He appears happy, now that he is back at JAG. He even finally has a family of his own; well, a 'sort of' a family. The court awarded Harm custody of a fifteen year old ‘young lady’ on a temporary basis until her father can get counseling for alcohol abuse. I always knew that he would make a great father. I just wish the circumstances were more permanent.” Bud’s expressive face reflected his happiness for his friend, tempered by concerns.

Bud’s ramble continued. “Of course, Harriet and I have been so busy that we haven’t been able to be with him a whole lot. He did have something else to do the time we had the senior staff members over. He didn’t make it to the JAG picnic. I have caught him staring out the window a couple of times. We had this weird conversation just the other day about missing our old CO. He said something funny that I really didn’t think too much about. He said that no one would miss him even now within 24 hours after he was gone. Why would he say that?”

Father O’Malley looked at Bud. Thoughts were tumbling through his own mind, at the moment. Were things a lot worse than he realized so far with Harmon Rabb? If Rabb had even hinted at this level of self-depravation to Bud, perhaps it was time for a house call.

“Oh, tis the season, my boy-o. The old Christmas Carol syndrome. The same as ‘Tis a Wonderful Life’ thing. Look into the future and the like.” Ken hoped Bud would let the discussion slide with the movie references as diversions.

“Oh. I see. Well, as long as no one thinks of me as Tiny Tim, I’m okay with that.” Bud looked down at his watch. “Osh Kosh by Gosh! Harriet is probably standing on the curb waiting for me. I’ve got to be running. Give me my penance and I’m out of here.”

“Now, hold on there. Your beloved would be paging you if she was ready. Let’s finish up here first. The Lord doesn’t run by a time schedule. Kneel with me and let us pray.” Father Ken slid to his knees. Bud leaned forward. Both men began to recite the prayer of reconciliation.

Ken looked at Bud. “Place your faith in the Father, the Son, and the holy Spirit. You have the all-mighty three in one, on your side. As a father yourself, you know that you can only do so much. As a son, you must move on yourself, while still honoring your father. If you let your inner voice, your spirit, guide you will always have the strength to persevere. Look inside yourself for the answers. Don’t try to be super-human. Let the Lord share your burdens.” They bowed their heads again.

Priest and penitent shared a common bond, committed to the Navy, their country and their Lord. They were truly kneeling as brothers in arms as they completed their prayers. As Father O’Malley watched Bud depart the church, a feeling of thankfulness welled up in the soul of the young priest. Ken looked skyward and sent a special prayer for the young father and new Lt. Commander.

Once Bud was gone, Ken turned and walked to the front of the church. There were issues yet to be sorted out if there was to be healing for the souls at JAG HQ. The priest made a mental note to call Rabb for a quick game of one-on-one. Time this particular man of God went to visit the proverbial mountain, Ken thought to himself.

Father Ken O'Malley walked out of the church into the courtyard. “Oh, Lord. Give me strength. I’ve got to go and work with Mrs. O’Leary. If this is me penance for me sins today, then I think I might be getting a credit to my account!”

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