Last Saturday, a new convert to our small branch decided to get baptized in the relatively cooler waters of the Gulf of Mexico. (Around here that would be pronounced “guff.”) One of our members has a beautiful home right on the water and built it with these kinds of activities in mind. Most of the attendees spent the first moments passing each other on the walkway out to the water. It was a chilly, cloudy morning. Most of us were commenting on how cold it was. (FYI here cold is 60 degrees.) I’m not sure it was wise to have us face the stunningly beautiful water as the talk on baptism commenced. I found myself contemplating the beauty of the earth and not focusing in on the talk. Then we walked down to the water.
Just as his close friend lowered the new convert into the water, I’m not kidding here, the sun broke through the clouds and stayed out the rest of the day. It was pure magic, the stuff of fairy tales.
Once we were all settled in for the talk on the Holy Ghost and welcoming into the branch, I again found myself staring at the beach. It was an awesome experience. And being the history oriented person I am, I thought of how many baptisms went on in the Gulf maybe even centuries ago. And how much like a jewel this earth is. I’m not poetic but I hope you get the picture.
I turned to my niece who I am happy to report has decided to join the church and asked her if she would like to also be baptized on the beach. She looked at me with mock horror and said, “Oh no, I would never be able to concentrate on what was happening, I’ll take the traditional font route.” I sighed both because I understood and because I wanted another magical moment.