For an hour today everything except my daughter took a backseat.
It was a wonderful, peaceful, spiritual hour.
Luca and I wore white jumpsuits as we sat next to each other in the chapel. She told me her feet were cold. I told her mine were cold too. She placed one of her feet on mine to prove hers were colder. They were.
When it was our time, I held her hand as we walked down the hall towards the baptismal font. She entered the font through one door while I went through another.
Down the stairs and into the water we waded. She stretched her hand towards me not knowing how deep the water was. I whispered in her ear that everything would be fine.
A group of friends had gathered around the font to witness this special event in the life of our oldest daughter. I know Luca was comforted by the sight of familiar faces in the crowd.
After the prayer, I gently immersed her entire body in the warm water. She regained her balance and gently shook her long, wet hair. Everything was fine.
I kissed the top of her head before leading her back up the stairs where mom was waiting.
And like that, the hour had slipped away.
It’s now midnight in Seattle and the kids are down for the night. The house is quiet except for the dog snoring at my feet. I’m watching the snow fall outside the window on this cold, dark night.
These are a few of the details I will remember about the day I baptized our first child.
Because for an hour today, everything except my daughter took a backseat.