A couple of Sundays ago Marty and I went to Preston Hollow
Presbyterian Church in Dallas to watch as our youngest grandchild, Lucy Jean,
was baptized. For me, for us, it is a
spiritual thing. For me, for us, infant
baptism represents the best of who we are as human beings.
In our church baptism is a sacrament, a sign of God’s
continuing love for God’s people. Marty
often referenced a statement from someone more eloquent than I (I can’t
remember the name) that birth is a sign that God has not yet given up on
humanity. I feel that way about
baptism. I can’t think of a better way
of showing love than for parents, a family, a church to promise God’s love to a
child.
The baptisms of our grand children or any child touch Marty
in a way she can’t express. She doesn’t
say much about it, the strokes took outward expressions from her, but I know
from years of sitting beside her when other children have been baptized she feels
the meaning of the sacrament. She feels
the warmth and love of the community, she always, always, as difficult as it is
to make the journey, as self conscious as she feels in large gatherings, she
always wants to be there and connect with that part of our life.
I want that for her.
The following Sunday my family gathered in Fort Worth to
belatedly fete my parents for their 65 year anniversary. 65 years is a long, long time to do anything,
65 years of marriage is nothing short of a miracle. My brother John, in his toast, said that only
1% of married couples make the 65 year mark.
Personally I’ve never known anyone married for 65 years, you have to not
only live a long time you have to stay in like and love with someone else for a
very long time.
It was a great celebration where Marty tried to order a beer
instead of wine or the more appropriate Diet Coke (she really can’t drink
either, she’s loopy enough and has to help me drive), we all paid homage to the
miracle of Bettye and Larry Sr., and our entire immediate family was
there. We even got to hear a letter of
congratulations to my parents written by our esteemed Senator Ted Cruz from
Texas (no, not all of us in Texas like extremism).
More importantly we talked of the miracle of love, the
necessity of partnership, the luck of finding your soul mate and what an
amazing thing it is to still love your mate through all of the trial,
tribulations and victories of 65 years.
In the span of those two weeks, with my bride, my bride of
40 years, my bride in the wheelchair, we made the treks to the Metro mess to
see a beginning and a solemn promise, the next week we had the privilege to honor
a solemn promise fulfilled for more than six decades.
Getting to Dallas once every now and then pulls hard at
Marty’s energy reserves so I always give her a choice, “Do you want to
go?” Of course she says, “Damn straight I
want to go.” In her mind she has to be
there for the baptism and my own Mother, who always loved me the most, told me
not to come to their shindig without Marty.
The dichotomy of these two events is really hard to
miss. Think of it as a contrast between
a new beginning for little Lucy and a celebration of an old union that began
literally decades ago in another century, a union that is ultimately
responsible for giving life to little Lucy.
Lucy was baptized
into a faith community in 2016, in a completely different millennia and culture
than when my parents were married, yet they are tied together, they are tied
together by the miracle of genetics and more importantly they are forever
connected by the very same faith and family community.
I love the connection, I love knowing that, my grandparents,
my parents, Marty and I, our children and their children are part of a strong
community connected through the years to each other and to a common history.
I love knowing, as different as these celebrations were, as
special and emotional as they both were, they ultimately show who we really are.
I really love knowing Marty is still here to be a part of
these acts of love and with Marty; you can’t take that presence for granted.
