It was just yesterday. We handed our daughter, Maia, to my mentor and pastor for baptism. Inside, I was quaking with fear. Old images of God came pouring back, images of a harsh and demanding judge, someone who might harm my little one. I let go, and as I watched my friend gently trickle the water on her little brown head, I allowed the new images of God to rise to the surface. This God was the God I chose to worship, the God who was a kind Father, the God who was my companion, the God who revealed himself in Jesus. His strong love enveloped us all that morning, and the fear disappeared.
It was just yesterday. This weekend, that brown-eyed girl will kneel and let another mentor pastor of mine lay his hand on her head, confirming her and sealing the baptism God gave her almost 13 years ago. She makes her own decision this time. It's' her life and her faith. It's not up to me to let her go; she's walking into his arms of her own free will.
I know she will wrestle with her own understanding of who God is. She will have to learn to let the real, good God be her guide. She will have her own crosses to bear. I'm thankful, though, to be here to see what our kind Father has done with that little bundle of joy.
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