I have spent a few days in Phoenix, Arizona. I was there to officiate at the baptisms of
my newest relatives (baby first cousins twice removed). Phoenix is a desert valley surrounded by
mountains, in a landscape dotted with imported palm trees and native saguaro
cactus. It was hot – 110 degrees – and very,
very dry. I left Connecticut in the
midst of cool temperatures, torrential rains, and widespread flooding. The contrast could not have been greater.
To offer the blessing over the water in baptism in
a dry place is to know how precious the gift of water really is. It is easy to
take it for granted when it is so plentiful.
I think it is the same way with the love of our family – easy to take it
for granted because it is so overflowing.
This week, though, we did not need a drought of love to know what a rare
and precious bond we have. We were
together with memories and celebration and babies and catching up and laughing
and crying and eating cake and talking.
It was blessing, pure blessing, like sweet rain in
the desert, poured out on all of us. Little
Lindsey hugged her mama and added her sweet tears to the celebration;
all-grown-up-almost-seven-year-old Ian poured the water and then later on swam
like a fish in the pool; and baby Brennie sat up and showered his wobbly smiles
on all of us. And it was a gift of God,
as precious as a spring of water in a dry place.
1 comment:
Thank you Martha--as usual, a beautiful piece of writing--but then, it was a beautiful proceeding with beautiful babies. Love, Jim
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