The preacher said the water in Clear Creek won't wash away your sins, it is just a picture of what is happening in your life right now, it is up to you to carry it out, see it through.
But as each one got dunked into the cold mountain water to the applause of those gathered on the bank, I couldn't help but think of all those sins washing downstream.
There were 8 people who got baptised yesterday, one was our granddaughter, Racheal.
Seeing other family generations gather together reminded me that something was missing - I don't know if they were looking down on us or not, but I can almost see the smiles on the faces of those gone before us - our own parents and grandparents - they would have liked this simple ceremony even if they were only 'sprinkled' Methodists. Sometimes it is no fun being the oldest generation left here.
It felt good to be part of a community, seeing old neighbors and new ones. The symbolism, the ritual, the cold water, the immersion, the faith, the fellowship, the love... all were felt on that creek bank on a warm Sunday afternoon.
