Drew and I had begun talking about his getting baptised before my first cancer hit in 2004. I was working at one church and he was attending another one, and we were trying to find a good time for both of us. But before that happened, I ended up in the hospital and it got put on the back burner while I dealt with more immediate concerns.
Somehow in the milieu of recovery and trying to pick up the pieces, I forgot about this important event until after we had moved to Connecticut. We both felt unconnected to the community there, and although we both attended the same church, neither of us were members there. Besides, I was pretty sure our Connecticut setup would not work well should I encounter another bout of cancer, so the likelihood of staying was remote.
I had spoken with my Dad about Drew being baptized in his church, but since we were not members nor did we attend on any regular basis, that wasn't possible either.
On arrival in Rochester, once again we found ourselves attending different churches, but with all the work of settling in and adjusting to new routines, baptism wasn't foremost on my mind. Not until I once again faced chemo did I suddenly realize that I needed to schedule Drew's important step of baptism before I ended up unable to think about it in the mix of health issues.
It was a struggle to find a time that worked for not only Drew and I, but his youth minister and my pastor, a professor at the seminary as well as pastor of the small evening congregation I had been attending. The date had to work around Drew's being out of town as well, and my chemo schedule so that the day was during my good week and not right after infusion.
At last we had a date settled, the facility booked, and everything was set. Things almost got derailed when Drew was stranded in North Carolina due to a broken clutch, but I was determined that nothing would stand in the way of this and we worked it out. As for my not being allowed in public places, I decided that I would try to sit to one side and not be mainstream. I anyone coughed or appeared to be ill, I would avoid them and thoroughly scrub after I got home.
We entered the Pearce Memorial Church auditorium at 6pm. Only the pastor was there, and Drew and I tiptoed down the aisle, whispering about whether we were too early. I pointed to the clock on the balcony railing. Pastor welcomed us and we sat in the front pew waiting for others to arrive. Two other kids from the youth group were being baptised, one by sprinkling, the other by immersion as Drew would be.
Many from the youth group attended, lending their support. After instruction to the communicants, the service began. A meditation on the meaning of baptism and community of believers, the church. Prayer. Testimony from the baptees. A hymn. Then the baptisms. A simple yet significant service. I watched Drew as his youth pastor immersed him and raised him up and he joined his brothers and friends in his public confession of belief in Christ and acceptance into the fellowship of believers.
What joy! Not to mention relief that I had not let Drew down in this important step. I cleared the lump in my throat and hugged him as he grinned down at me (there's a change!). He went on to Horton's to celebrate with the rest of his friends while I headed home (no public places allowed). It feels good to know Drew's baptism is a fait accompli! Now I can rest easy should things get complicated.
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