Getting baptised was something I’d never thought about doing as an adult. It was those rubes who cling to their “guns and religion,” as BO put it, who get all wet.
Over the past year or so, getting baptised became more important to me. I felt a growing sense of urgency, and didn’t want to wait until November for the next scheduled baptism. I signed up for the August 26th baptism.
The skies had rained intermittently all day. By 3 PM as 28 of us and our friends and family gathered at the poolside, dark clouds crowded the sky. Drop. Drop. Drop. Umbrellas blossomed. Thunder rumbled.
Please, don’t thunder and lightning. I envisioned a macabre headline: “Lightning strikes crowd members simultaneously during baptism. Uptick in heaven’s population.”
I was baptized during a light rain. Total body immersion. Changed into dry clothes. Then it poured. I was soaked to the bone with pelting rain. Seems like I was baptised twice.
All my sins – past, current and future – are now clogging the pool filtration system.