Through the Eyes of the Baptized


Shaeden, one year old today, a wiggling bundle of pure white satin, taffeta, lace, hair as fine as the fur on the inner ear of a kitten.

Dustin, her daddy, holding her over the font, lest her baby back-arch to see the water under her head would have her slippery satin self slide from my lesser hands

The water, warmer than usual, flowing out of the polished silver pitcher held carefully between the hands of

Holly, freshman in white dress with yellow flowers, her dark ringlets flowing down her back as she guides the smaller hands of

Rhett, preschool big-brother of Shaeden, now resting from his usual high-gear, the top of his button-down vest from his two piece suit rising to meet his chin as he peers over the top of the font to watch the mesmerizing water flow, while …

Patrick, Merinda, Sydney, dressed in high-school, Sunday-best, line the steps below the altar, listening to the flood prayer, watching…waiting…

to bring the linen napkin to wipe the baby’s dripping hair
to bring the vial of oil to mark the cross on her soft forehead
to light the candle before the gathering of ninety people hear the familiar words from Matthew…

Let your light so shine before others…

Shaeden, at the first touch of warm water kissing her forehead, turns to me, eyes wide with …

wonder.

My head, now dropped lower so that my cheek lies softly against hers,

I pour the water, two more times, more than I’ve ever used before, her eyes blissful as the warmth caresses her head,

We look into one another’s eyes as I whisper,

The promise,

In the name of the Father
and the Son
and the Holy Spirit…

The Spirit circles, ripples surround us

Tears, sighs, sacred songs sung from places deep within the souls of the faithful

Holy,
Holy.
Oh so holy.

Now, kneeling, three girls to women;  one boy to man, hearing the scripture from the strong voice of David.  Holy words chosen just for them,

I trace the cross on their foreheads now, skin that has known bruises but still has not one wrinkle

I plead with God to fill them with the Spirit

Of counsel and might, of joy in God’s presence, of wisdom and understanding…

Now they read prayers they have written,

While Holly, hands now dry, fingers arched, strong and delicate, find the keys they seek

and with one voice, we sing…

Lord, listen to your children praying. 

…Send us love, send us power, send us grace.

5 comments

  1. Each time I read this, I cannot help but shed tears. You have captured this day in a remarkable, beautiful way. Praise be to God!

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