I witnessed a baptism this past Sunday at my church. When a baptism is held at my church, the children gather around and they help. They hold the prayer shawl for the baby, they light the candle, and they witness. Then, other family members and church friends gather to witness. It is beautiful. A statement is then read to the baby or person, that basically says, this church is your spiritual home and you will not be judged wherever you are on your path. My eyes tear every time, just that simple acceptance, so many of us long for. And then, we just do our best as a church family.

The baptism I witnessed on Sunday opened me in a different way. And let me tell you why. The couple held that baby, while their 4 year old daughter, Eva, witnessed, holding one of her mama's hands.  The minister cupped his hand and drew water from the bowl. Then he poured it over the baby's head, saying the words that ministers say.  And it was at this moment, that Eva began laughing hysterically. Each of the three times, Ben, the minister would pour water on Addison's head, Eva, with her cherubic little face, would laugh and laugh and laugh. She laughed the kind of laugh that comes from every cell; from way down in your belly. I thought, this is truly baptism right here. This is it. Laughter cleans us. Returns us to simple joy. I began to laugh with Eva. I don't think I have ever laughed in a baptism, standing up in front of the church. Even though I had a few voices that said, "You are not supposed to laugh in church!" (what in the world is that voice about?), I let myself laugh. I let Eva be my teacher. She didn't have any big hairy voices telling her not to laugh. So, I didn't need to listen to mine. And as I laughed, I felt washed clean. Baptized, actually.