While everyone else is having whopping huge anniversary reactions re: winter holidays of yesteryear, I'm having one of my own. December 30th is my Baptismday.
Since I was already in my 40s, not only do I remember this blessed event, but I remember the preceding strum und drang. This is my esoteric way of characterizing nearly a decade of spiritual emergency. Not a lot of fun at the time and I have yet to generate any euphoric recall about those years. Lucky me, I can still feel, at the cellular level, the sometimes blunt, sometimes razor-like edges of events that compelled saying "yes" to Jesus.
I'm finally getting around to writing more about all that. For now let me note that I remain grateful for full immersion, each time, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Even though we profess to "acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins,"I doubt dribbling a handful of holy water would've had as much of an impact.
