Friday was a very special day for me. Friday I became Maeve’s Godmother. I’d attended noon Mass before the baptism, and it had been a funeral Mass for a very active parishioner and veteran. My eyes teared up when I saw the urn of ashes and the folded flag being carried in the processional, so there was mascara on my handkerchief long before the baptism began. Fr. Scott, the pastor, encouraged the family of the elderly man who had passed away to share their stories, their memories of him not only that day, but at their upcoming Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations. It made me think of all the stories Maeve would hear as she grew up about her family – her doting grandmothers and her exceptional great-grandmother, her loving parents who weren’t afraid to welcome another baby into an already wild-and-crazy household, her aunts and uncles (both official and unofficial) who fought over the chance to hold her, and the smiling, loving priest who moved so seamlessly from comforting a grieving family to encouraging a growing one.
From me she’ll hear about her sister Rachel, who brought in a stuffed animal and proceeded to give me a biology lesson about the similarities and differences between the tails of foxes and squirrels, and her twin brothers Adam and Thomas, who balanced precariously along the edge of the baptismal pool until Adam dunked a toy car and Thomas bloodied a lip. She’ll hear about her proud father, the calm in the middle of the storm, and her beautiful mother, who couldn’t even read the gift cards without weeping at lunch afterwards.
No scripture today. None needed. Catherine Maeve is a scripture passage unto herself and we are all blessed to be part of her life. Go congratulate Dianna today on the baptism of her youngest: