Serenity

Sunday ranks in the top five of all good days I've had in my life, even though it had a rough start.

Sunday, I dressed Baby Girl in a long white dress made by a family friend - the same one my sister and I wore as infants. I then added a pair of pink ballet shoes that were a gift from a friend in Virginia and a headband given to her by my sister. Dressed head-to-toe in love, she and I joined Himself, my immediate family, my extended family and a few friends at church. She was then formally named and blessed, surrounded by some of the most important men in her (and our) lives.

It was a moment rich in emotion as I sat in my new congregation and listened to the words of Himself haltingly bless Baby Girl. He was nervous - a strange thing for me to realize about Himself. I could feel the love throughout the rest of the meeting wrap itself around me, seated between Himself and my sister, with Baby Girl nestled between all of us.

Later, during Sunday School, I watched my brother cradle Baby Girl. I watched her snuggle up to him and sigh contentedly into arms that weren't quite sure what to do with such a tiny little baby, dressed almost as an angel. I sat next to an aunt as she held Baby Girl close during the women's service. My heart pounded and my eyes stung.

Just before church ended, I gathered Baby Girl in my arms and walked the 60 or so steps to our house in the warm, late autumn afternoon sun. I entered the Hobbit Hole to find it bursting at the seams with family and friends and the scents of good food. As I settled down in the nursery to rock and feed Baby Girl before our entrance into the frenzy that would move to the backyard (the Hobbit Hole is not equipped for entertaining), my heart swelled again. I listened to the women in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the appetizer spread Himself and I had coordinated. I listened to the men drifting in and out as they moved the tables and food outside - overhearing snatches of conversation about the big Patriots v. Colts football game.

I wanted to weep. Here, in my little home, cradling my infant daughter to my breast - still dressed in her achingly beautiful, long, white dress - I realized that sacrificing our own comfort zone, the proximity of so many dear friends and journeying to The Frontier was the best thing that could have ever happened to Baby Girl. Here she could grow up, basking in the glow of family, sheltered by a love that comes from deep relationships, knit tight by decades of growing up together.

We emerged out into the backyard, dappled by golden sunlight, awhile later, and I basked in the glow of being surrounded by those people who would act as the founding community of Baby Girl's life - those who, through their presence this incredible day, would pledge their love and support of her as she grows into the remarkable daughter of God she is destined to be.

Somehow, I am confident that Baby Girl was aware of the magnitude of the day - that she knew she was surrounded by a group of people who would move mountains for her.

It will be a day I will always remember - for it's goodness, it's love and the deep impression it left on my soul.