When I was a nine year old girl, I found myself sitting in the confessional booth of St. Lawrence Church, in Chacahoula, Louisiana without any sin I was readily willing to own up to. The priest on the other side kept clearing his throat in impatience.

I felt the cold knot of dread in my stomach, accompanied by my sweaty palms, and feelings similar to the major anxiety of a prisoner about to be executed.

On the other side of the stifling hot creaky booth sat Father Charles prepared to listen to my penitents and mete out my penalties. I certainly wasn't going to tell him I was the girl who stole the cookies and blamed it on her little brother. I wasn't going to admit I'd sassed my mama.

Nor, was I willing to concede that my prayers of late, were more along the lines of, "Please send me a new dress for the first day of school," when I knew we were supposed to pray for the sick and the poor.

We'd been up most of the night before gigging frogs, as we were expecting Sunday company after church. My Grandpere wanted to be sure we had enough frog legs to fry. It takes a lot of frogs, when there are seven children, their spouses, and all of their children to feed. Louisiana heat that day, only added to my sleepiness. The only way I was going to get out of there without falling asleep, was to quickly come up with an original sounding sin.

Feeling somewhat guilty for my part in the frog murders, I finally blurt out,"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It's been since last Sunday, since my last confession. This is my confession, it's my fault that some of the frogs are going to dance today."

Dead silence answered me, when I was expecting at least some response on the other side. For what seemed like a childhood eternity, and a lot more throat clearing, I heard a raucous guffaw, as he asked: "Just how many frogs will be dancing at your table?"

"About two hundred," was my trembling answer, certain that I was now in big trouble.

Again, dead silence greeted me. Another youthful eternity ticked away before I heard him ask, "Two hundred? All by yourself?"

Near tears, thinking I'd now gotten my Grandpere and uncles in trouble, I meekly offered, "I had help, but they had to help me, because I'm afraid to go out along the bayou in the dark by myself -- an alligator could eat me."

Still another deadly hush from the other side of the booth, then Father Charles, sternly inquired, "Is there blood on your hands?"

Aghast, I examined both my hands carefully, thinking he surely must have mystical holy powers. How did he know I had only hastily wiped my hands on Memere's kitchen towel -- not washed them, as she had ordered me to before breakfast and church. Not certain my hands were entirely clean, I hastily and vigorously wiped them on the hem of my petticoat, where Memere might not notice.

The tears were now threatening to escape, as I solemnly offered an uncertain, "No. My job was to hold the burlap bags and count them. Forgive me Father....."

To my startled ears, he interjected: "Don't you worry. Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good."

Still shocked, I could barely whisper the expected reply: "For his mercy endures forever."

To which Father Charles replied: "The Lord has freed you from your sins. Go in peace. Tell your Grandmere she'll have an extra plate of frog legs to set on the table, when I stop by."

In my hasty escape, I barely remembered to say: "Thanks be to God."

Eating frog legs is not unique to the Cajun people, in fact people have been eating frog legs for thousands of years. Certainly the French Acadians were familiar with this practice.

Getting frogs to the dinner table and to the restaurant table, generally involves frog gigging. On the remote chance that you are not familiar with the practice -- this involves hunting for frogs at night by lantern light or flashlight --then, spearing them with special poles (spears) that have three or four prongs arranged in a trident-like formation, to "gig" the prey.

Then, you gather your night's take in burlap bags, five gallon bucket, or in the bottom of your boat's ice chest.

At night frogs are easily located by lights or by their croaking. Always approach them slowly. Clubbing frogs works better in the summer, when frogs are active. Larger frogs may also be taken with a hook and line.

Remember always that frogs have a fierce tenacity when it comes to life and will do anything to escape after they are stunned. To prevent this, if you have it in you, stick your knife through the spinal cord, just behind the head.

Bull frogs don't die easy. Sometimes you have to whack them on the head, especially if you are throwing them in the bottom of your boat, or in a cooler. Sadly, (my opinion) some these days, think it is a sport to shoot frogs, instead of the old fashioned method. Supposedly, you are supposed to shoot into the water near them and stun them.

Too many times I've seen young men and older men who should know better, actually shooting the frogs. It's a waste of frog meat and not very sporting. At least with gigging, you and the frog have about equal chances of success.

Today, you can buy frog legs at the grocery in some parts of the U.S. Most of them come from Vietnam. Eating frog legs is a long time popular dish through Asia. By the way, frog legs for the uninitiated, really do taste very mild and very much like chicken legs.

Of course, you skin frogs before cooking them, as many types of frogs secrete irritating and poisonous fluids from their skins. Particularly avoid those marked with yellow and red.

Frog legs are a delicacy, but think about eating the rest of the frog. There really is no reason to waste good meat.

Note: Before you go frog gigging, you need to check with your local Fish and Game for your state's laws and hunting seasons.

As an adult, in the days since I was a confessed frog murderer -- I've pretty much accepted that being a Cajun traiteuse, is a lot like being in club without any other members, at least not any that you know. That is especially true, when you no longer live near a bayou, and Louisiana becomes but a memory, and a place you visit when you can.

They say our practices are dying, as we older Cajuns are dying off. (Hey, I'm not that old yet and have no plans to leave the planet). So, I don't know. I have hope that some, or many of our practices will live on -- as more and more people look for alternative natural solutions for medical care. It's difficult in modern times to merge old world ideas and practices.

Traditional Cajun healing makes use of many plants that have been used for centuries, the results based on trail and error. Emile taught me that it is a science, just not one that (English speaking) outsiders studied or understood.

Additionally, like our Cajun language and history has been passed on orally, much of our healing "recipes" have never been written down. If you are only passing that knowledge to one other person, there is a possibility that much can be lost. Here are a few today, that I freely share with the world, even though the little girl inside me prays -- that I'll be forgiven for telling the "secrets" and end up in heaven's confession booth with sweaty palms, a knot of cold in my tummy, and be further judged for the demise of even more frogs and herbs.

Emiled called them the three C's. He probably had hundred of remedies for these ailments. He could count on many late night knocks on the door in finding someone, needing such a "cure."

Many of these remedies were handed down by our Native American relatives, others such as the French Mulberry, had come over from the Old World.

Some of the most common cures for the three C's - Coughs, Colics, and Colds:

Monarda - The dried leaves of this plant were a standard remedy for colds and colics.

Elderberry - The tea we made from elderberries was a standard cold remedy. It also makes an excellent wine and jams.

French Mulberry (aka Beauty Berry)- The roots, leaves, and berries are used to treat colic and other ailments. We Cajuns learned from our Acadian ancestors that it was also a good berry to eat and made delicious desserts.

Oakleaf Hydrangea - Stems were collected for chewing, when the patient had a cough to easy the symptoms

Sweet Bay Magnolia - The leaves were dried and used to make a tea, that the patient was instructed to drink when they had a cold.

Most patients seeking the care of a traiteur or traiteuse believe that healing is a gift from God given to certain members of the community.

They accept on faith. Others, more scientifically minded, look for a psychological answer. Most conclude that the healing practices work, because of their faith and their belief in the healer.

Some patients can't afford to go to a doctor. Some have been diagnosed with terminal illnesses and seek relief from symptoms that modern medicine doesn't offer. In rural areas, many older people seek the services of a traiteuse or traiteur, simply as an additional source of healing, until they can get to a medical professional.

Many of the simple old time folk remedies presented here are for your entertainment and general knowledge. I make no guarantee as to either their effectiveness, or their safety. Consult your physician before deciding, if these remedies or any other such treatments are right for you.