Baptisms

We'd prayed, studied, talked to each other and to our spiritual counselors, and prayed some more. It was finally time to baptize our children. Despite the weatherman's predictions, God blessed us with a crisp, dry and sunny September Saturday morning. Thirty of us gathered here in jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers to make the trek down to the swimming hole at the bottom of the hill. There was excited chattering, children running, adults getting more coffee and a line for the bathroom. Finally, everyone was ready. We joined hands. Todd prayed.

The effect of that prayer was an electric solemnity. We made our way through the woods and down to the river speaking in hushed voices, breathing the morning air. We had not asked for silence, and not expected it. The anticipation of the baptisms, the beauty of the forest in autumn, the Real Presence of the Holy Spirit, all these things provoked a reverant hush.

We arrived at the swimming hole and helped the children out of their clothes. They were wearing swimsuits and hugged their arms to their chests against the chill. Todd got into the waters we had blessed the night before, and yelped, "Ack, this is COLD!" But he bravely soldiered on and soon was up to his hips in the swimming hole.

Rose wanted to go first. "Oh! It's COLD!" Todd baptized her in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. He plunged her into the water and her feet flew up into the air. He pulled her out with a look of shock on her sweet face. We grabbed her and wrapped her in a new white towel to symbolize the new creation she is in Christ. The procedure and look of shock was identical for each of the boys.

The children in their bathrobes led the procession back up the hill. They laughed, jumped, danced and whooped. The older kids and adults chatted happily up the mossy aisle with the leafy cathedral ceiling overhead.

We had plenty of sticky buns, eggs and coffee at the house and everyone was warmed again--except Todd. It took several hours for the feeling to come back to his legs.