Before Lucy's Baptism

Oh, these have been busy, busy, sunny, summery, whirlwind days.  I haven't had (and still don't have) time to breath, but my girl is getting baptized tomorrow and never mind all the cleaning to be crammed in before then, I have to take a moment to sit down and feel the joy.  To let it swell in my heart and run out of my eyes.

Like most of the sweet, thoughtful eight-year-olds I know, Lucy loves that little song,

"I like to look for rainbows, whenever there is rain
And ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again"

We've seen a fair amount of rainbows this season. Lucy's been keeping count. Some have been casual. In the sprinklers.  At the science museum.  Others have been mercifully timed.  Like on her birthday. 

   

And a few other quiet moments when my heart needed a reminder of the covenants we make with God, our Father.  And He with us.

I remember that when I was pregnant with Lucy I often had sleepless nights anticipating the many unknowns of motherhood.  I remember worrying about all the things I'd need to teach our little girl.  I remember thinking particularly one night about baptism.  How would I teach Lucy about baptism?  Did I really understand it myself?  Those late night reflections motivated me to study the topic a little - made me feel like I ought to be better prepared, somehow - no longer for my own sake, but for hers. 

I think back on those sleepless nights with a little mirth and much tenderness in my heart.  Motherhood has been so much simpler and harder than I could have ever anticipated then.  And I'm slowly learning that I'm not so much the teacher as I am an older student in the same class.

The kids and I had a classic learning moment together last week when Spencer locked us all out the house.  His confession was pretty casual until he saw my expression ("You did what!?"), watched me walk to each door with growing dismay, and finally realized the implications of his action.  "And we can't get our food?" he asked as I listed all the necessities that were inaccessible as a result of his poor choice.  I admit to several moments of seething before remembering that I'd given a spare key to our home teacher a few months ago. 

I was so relieved to remember.  And Spencer was sincerely grateful when I told him there was still a way to get home.  And as we walked down the road to the Leavitt's (Lucy on her bike without shoes), I remembered the verses in Revelation I had read just that morning.

"Thus saith he that is holy, he that is true, he that hath the key...
I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it." 

Last week at her baptismal interview, the bishop asked Lucy if she'd prayed about getting baptized.  I kicked myself a little for never thinking to formally encourage that, but tried to make up for my neglect when we got home.  Lucy and I talked about how we should always ask Heavenly Father for help when we're making decisions, and that getting baptized is a very important decision to pray about.  Lucy listened patiently.  "OK,"  she said sincerely, "but I think I already know the answer."

And she does.

"For the gate by which ye should enter is repentance and baptism by water; and then cometh a remission of your sins by fire and by the Holy Ghost.  And then are ye in this strait and narrow path which leads to eternal life; yea, ye have entered in by the gate." 2 Nephi 31

"An open door."
To our Father's house.
Through our Savior, "the keeper of the gate," who holds the key and makes all of our covenants effectual.
Which is so relieving.

Because someday we all want to go home.