Baptism
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series III, Cycle C
Andrew was just a little baby when he was baptized. A little six-week-old boy who would easily push his mother's hand away when he was unhappy, Andrew let the world know when he was upset. But it lasted just for a fleeting moment and he would be calm again. He had a sweet disposition.
Andrew was so welcomed into the world. His mother and father had lost two babies through miscarriage. The mother and father weren't sure they could have another. There was already a happy little girl who was about to turn four and they considered themselves blessed.
It was during a very sad time for his mother when they learned she was pregnant. The father had been offered a job 2,000 miles away. The mother -- although very happy for her husband -- felt terrible about leaving her family and friends behind. She would concentrate on their daughter, her husband, and their new life.
So they moved, and very soon after, the mother felt something strange within her womb. It was life. Precious life that reminded her that life does go on. Through the sorrow of the move, through the depth of dark, lonely nights, life stirred within her.
And a boy was born. Almost nine pounds of boy was delivered on a crisp, cold day in November. All Saints' Day. Andrew Harrison was his name. A strong name after his great-grandfather. A strong name for a strong boy who mightily squeezed his proud sister's finger.
The boy was baptized. The congregation sang around him. The pastor invoked words. He sprinkled water on Andrew's sleeping face. Two godmothers; two godfathers. So much love for a sweet little boy as the pastor, Andrew's father, held him high for all to see, and turned to him and said, "You are my beloved son in whom I am well pleased."
Andrew was so welcomed into the world. His mother and father had lost two babies through miscarriage. The mother and father weren't sure they could have another. There was already a happy little girl who was about to turn four and they considered themselves blessed.
It was during a very sad time for his mother when they learned she was pregnant. The father had been offered a job 2,000 miles away. The mother -- although very happy for her husband -- felt terrible about leaving her family and friends behind. She would concentrate on their daughter, her husband, and their new life.
So they moved, and very soon after, the mother felt something strange within her womb. It was life. Precious life that reminded her that life does go on. Through the sorrow of the move, through the depth of dark, lonely nights, life stirred within her.
And a boy was born. Almost nine pounds of boy was delivered on a crisp, cold day in November. All Saints' Day. Andrew Harrison was his name. A strong name after his great-grandfather. A strong name for a strong boy who mightily squeezed his proud sister's finger.
The boy was baptized. The congregation sang around him. The pastor invoked words. He sprinkled water on Andrew's sleeping face. Two godmothers; two godfathers. So much love for a sweet little boy as the pastor, Andrew's father, held him high for all to see, and turned to him and said, "You are my beloved son in whom I am well pleased."
