Our wild and colorful family stood around the baptismal font with our sweet Oliver Trotwood yesterday, and each of us scooped up water and participated in giving Oliver to God. Laine seriously dabbed his brother's head, Luke doused him with jubilation, I dripped a bit on myself hurriedly so as not to miss out on the moment, and Annabel, Annabel baptized Oliver by scooping up a generous handful of water and slopping it on her own blessed head.
She is an amazing child. I hope she reads this someday when she thinks I don't understand her or that I don't want her to have fun. I love her...down to her toenails. She can be spicy and she has opinions, but I learn so much from her. Yesterday she showed me that it is not enough to abstractly remember our baptism through liturgy, we must immerse ourselves in the depths of baptism and covenant on a visceral level to cloud around the baptized and refuse to let them go. We must be willing to get caught in the runoff, not to be re-baptized, but to be con-baptized. To come along side. To encourage. To join in. We must be foolish enough to believe in the power of the water and the grace. Oliver, I have great hope for you because you have a sister and a brother who believe in the power of your baptism enough to join with you in grace and love.
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