Baptism

Late 1980, wearing a significantly see-through white dress, I was baptized in a wooden make-shift font which simultaneously housed floating daddy-long-leg spiders. The font was located in the basement of a rented building in which my small lds branch met. I don't remember much besides the embarrassment felt from the wet see-through dress and that my world didn't suddenly shift into spiritual stardom. I find that I am still galaxies away from attaining such a status. But there have been quiet, sometimes earth-shaking moments-mostly unexpected, when there was a shift, and I would never be the same.





In early April, Norah was baptized. In the month preceding her baptism, we did our best to prepare her, going over and over the interview questions and helping her understand the basics of a testimony. That morning we went to the stake center which was busy with activity as 17 wards prepared for their youth baptisms. We chose a jumper from about 50 jumpers neatly pressed and hung for all the 8 year-olds. We shuffled into a small room to hold the service which was tender and sweet. I met Norah on the other side of the font standing in a pool of water which held the drippings of perhaps 20 girls that morning. As I helped her dress, her young voice came from behind a stall door: Mom, I don't feel different. I smiled to myself as I reassured her that that was exactly how I felt after my baptism. It's not usually fireworks or lightening bolts. It is gradual, it is work, and it is mostly still. But it is the greatest love you will ever feel and it is real.

I love you Norah.