My sixth grandchild was baptized yesterday. Such a wonderful, joyful day. The grace of God was all over it. Such peace. Such a sense of gratitude for all that God has done and continues to do.
All but one of my grandchildren were there. (The missing one was sick.)
Just looking at my children and grandchildren fills me with joy. I know I'm extremely biased but they are adorable. There was a large immersion Baptismal font that pulled the kids like a magnet, to put it mildly.
Father explained to the children before the Baptism started that we only put our hands in the holy water when we are going to bless ourselves. You should have seen them, repeatedly dipping in a little finger and then making a quick little sort-of Sign of the Cross. The seven-year-old, the only one who could really do it would make his Sign of the Cross with a slight head bow and then look at me as if to say, "Is this OK?" before doing it again like the others. I always gave him a little smile, resisting the impulse to say, "Stop playing with the holy water." Not my children. Not my responsibility. My job is to just love them. And that's what I did.
Glory to God. He is so good.
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