I remember Middle's baptism like it was yesterday.
The year, 1964 (for context, the Beatles released I Want To Hold Your Hand in January that year).
The place, Toul, France (what's to say about France other than its full of eccentric people who speak English like Inspector Jacques Clouseau, that is, with a heavy French accent, but who won't speak French to you unless you have no accent and get all the verb tenses just so).
The setting, a cold gray day (winter time in France was always cold--often layers of snow covered the ground, usually "black ice" covered the highways--remember that Youngest?).
Our little Church met in the Mechanic's Union hall, and it had no baptistry. So we borrowed the baptistry of a local congregation, in what I remember was a cathedral-looking establishment, old, formal and very high church. So, one Sunday afternoon, the Church folk caravanned to the French Church for what was to be the Preacher's first series of immersions (he had just been ordained, and many had waited until he was "official" for their dunking).
The year, 1964 (for context, the Beatles released I Want To Hold Your Hand in January that year).
The place, Toul, France (what's to say about France other than its full of eccentric people who speak English like Inspector Jacques Clouseau, that is, with a heavy French accent, but who won't speak French to you unless you have no accent and get all the verb tenses just so).
The setting, a cold gray day (winter time in France was always cold--often layers of snow covered the ground, usually "black ice" covered the highways--remember that Youngest?).
Our little Church met in the Mechanic's Union hall, and it had no baptistry. So we borrowed the baptistry of a local congregation, in what I remember was a cathedral-looking establishment, old, formal and very high church. So, one Sunday afternoon, the Church folk caravanned to the French Church for what was to be the Preacher's first series of immersions (he had just been ordained, and many had waited until he was "official" for their dunking).
When we arrived, we found the building locked and the caretaker missing. He was taking his afternoon nap, but gladly opened the doors when we roused him. He even turned on the heat in the building, and supposedly, in the baptistry (did I say it was COLD?).
And while I know it doesnʼt matter whether itʼs in a river or a formal baptistry in the front of a velvety-pewed, mahogany-paneled church, I do recall the baptistry was a hot tub sized pool in a tiled room more like a spa than a church facility. And I'm sure the water was (I know I mentioned this) COLD, right Middle?
If Middle was instructed like I was when I was baptized, for modesty she wore jeans and a shirt under a white robe. I know after it was complete, she dripped from the pool to the changing area, most likely shivering incessantly (I know I said it was COLD!). And if she did wear jeans, the wet blue denim bled through the wet white robe, and while still modest, was clingy.
Anyway, even with the delay awaiting the ordination, the COLD, the delay from the napping caretaker the COLD, the adhesive robe and bleeding denim and, the COLD, it was an inspiring event. It certainly demonstrated conclusively Middle's commitment to the reality of something that had happened internally months before, the change that the symbol represented.
2 comments:
I am quite sure that it was COLD though that is not something I specifically remember. I don't think that we had formal robes for baptism. I think I wore a white dress. Had lots of gathers about the waist, if I remember correctly.
And I do not recall any jeans underneath. In fact, I don't think I had a pair of jeans at that time. You might recall that it was 1964, and I was in fact, a GIRL.
(I remember when we were first allowed to wear pantsuits to school, about 1968 or 1969. I remember waiting at the bus stop so happy that I could actually have my legs covered, in what at the time, I considered absolutely FREEZING weather.)
As usual, I remember absolutely NOTHING of this story. I don't even really remember our church in France, though I do remember talking about it in later years! Sometimes it feels like you guys had a an entire lifetime without me, but the pictures prove I was there, too! I guess I was just busy being the "cute" youngest child!
And, Kathy, in reference to your comment: I remember pantsuits, too. I was in 5th grade, which would have been 1970-71. Remember they had to be matching two-piece suits! You couldn't just wear pants and a shirt. And I don't think I owned a pair of jeans until 8th grade (73-74). I got a pair of big-belled Levis to go with my CPO jacket. Do you remember those?
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