Sunday, November 6, 2011

A Sunday to Remember

We seemed to collect children today. Neighbor kids and school chums congregated in our home (eight at one point). Was it the fresh baked cookies or the company? Here's hoping it was the latter.

What better to pair fresh baked cookies than hot cocoa...perfectly served with friends.

This morning I tried to reflect on Christians persecuted for their faith. I thought about how difficult it must be in certain patches of the globe to actually attend a religious service. I tried to keep these thoughts in the forefront of my mind as I struggled to ready four squirmy boys and one filthy mama for church services. Did I really have room to bemoan my efforts to dash out the door with four little ones in tow?

As I coiffed and primped, I'd check in on the little boys. At one point, I caught Cooper looking particularly sheepish.

I asked, "Cooper, what are you doing?"

"Dangerous stuff," Cooper replied without hesitation.

I wasn't surprised.

Despite all the morning hiccups, we arrived at church on time (no small miracle). I slipped each son into his appropriate classroom and slid into a seat in the rear of the sanctuary.

The service started and the pastor announced it was Baptism Sunday. The pastor stood in the baptismal, standing by an eager parishioner (and several more waiting in the wings). A pre-taped video began in which those to be baptized offered their testimonies.

I don't know what it is about sitting in church, but it seems to strip me emotionally. My soul sits naked, exposed and raw. As the words flowed from the screen, my eyes watered and my throat lumped.

I watched the pastor immerse each parishioner in a liquid basin. Each individual arose dripping wet, hair matted, shirt soaked, mascara running. But, a glow radiated on each saturated face and a smile emerged. They were lovely.

Almost a decade ago, I too was baptized. I remember emerging from the water, exhilarated and reinvigorated. That fervor seems to have withered with the passage of time and life circumstances. Can it ever be reclaimed?

I sat there grateful for a morning to remember and renew.

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