Baby joined the Catholic church at her baptism yesterday, and it was a lovely day all around. Even though the heat was just ridiculous -- seriously, how are you southern friends not completely insane in the heat? How do you not burst into flames each time you go outside? Especially you Texans? It is not supposed to be this hot for this long up here in the Northeast. We are not designed for this.
(But be sure to remind me of this when I am crying in February because it is -5 when I have to drive the kids to school one morning, okay?)
I am sad to admit that I used to not think too much about the sacrament of baptism. It was one of those "everyone gets it" kind of sacraments to me, and I think along the way I was not properly instructed to recognize its power and beauty.
Now that I have had the blessing of having six babies baptized, it has become one of my most favorite sacraments. Each time I've brought one of my children to the baptismal font, it has become more beautiful for me.
I especially love the prayers over the baby during baptism -- I feel like each one is a like a layer of spiritual armor; a special call for heavenly protection for my baby. From the prayer of exorcism to the litany of the saints, I think of all the angels and all the holy men and women, who have achieved the perfection of heaven, looking down on this little baby and being called upon to protect her and guide her. And when the priest calls on her patron saint, I get a little thrill of knowing that she's got Baby's back. You don't mess around with the citizens of heaven, people.
Of course, as I was pondering the heavenly hosts and all things good and their connection to my youngest daughter on her special day, I did have someone to bring me back to my temporal existence. After cleaning up the entire first floor in preparation for the party after Baby's baptism, Sally walked into the living room and said:
Oh, Mom! I just love what you've done in here! We should keep it like this all the time -- you know, like clean and organized.
Humility, thy name is motherhood.
|Wait, what? We're going to be pouring water all over my head?|
|The whole passel o' younguns. This is the first picture we have of all eight of us together.|