I pushed her into the water.

Clean. Pure. Sacred.Water, a symbol of new.

Our hearts, no matter how young, dirty with old bearing the weight of choices as old as humanity.  Sweat dripping from brow returning to the dust from which it once came living under a heaviness blurred into the background of life.  No matter how hard we try, how much we drink or the great lengths we go, it is never enough.  An unquenchable something.  We work for satisfaction believing it to be found in what we can get for ourselves.  It’s crafty in deflecting.  Sin. It chooses us before we reach for it and know of it.  It yearns in the wailing of a babe mixed in with innocence laced right into desire.  Each of us born into a world not of our choosing affected by sin shaping.  Hearts dimmed before they are even tried and tested.

Dimmed. Dirty. Damned. We all are.  Some no longer.

Redemption eclipsing, an invite to new.  Welcome home.

Water baptism is very important to me and adherence to the faith I cling to.  I remember myself young nervous to be pushed into the water.  We stood in a pool.  Just days prior, I swam and played in those waters thinking nothing of God or sin or wrong.  Everything right in the moment lost in play and the pool.  But standing that day beside the pastor and witnessed by faithful onlookers, there I waited to be ‘dunked’.  He said some words that I’ll never recall but I remember them to be affectionate.  My hand held my nose shut.  And into the water I went.  Only mere seconds under the surface led me home.  Walking out of the pool to clapping and cheering that for whatever reason I understood.  Dripping water, I belonged.  Not to the church or to a man or teaching.  Something discovered me.  Redemption with a plan stretched much farther than day or age or understanding.  I’ll think fondly of that pool forever.

From Eden crumbled and a garden of peace and common dwelling with God hidden, one man’s choosing of sin then draped over all of humanity to come.  Even more historied than man’s choosing is God’s.  His of us.  Jesus came that we might live.  He came so that she would live.  And so into these waters stirring ancient, belonging to prophecy, made alive by the shed blood of Christ she disappeared only to resurface clean, new, redefined.

Two weeks ago in conversation, Emily decided to be water baptized.  She asked me.  That’s how I knew it was time.  So much of parenting is leading them in the right way to the point that wherever they are, the opportunity to choose is clearly presented to them.  If I do their choosing, they will never develop strong in choosing correctly.  Our talks lead us through her understanding the significance of water baptism: an outward expression of the faith growing in her heart.

I had the greatest privilege of baptizing her myself.  No sweeter moment shared between us than holding her in the water, praying with her, looking into her understanding eyes and then pushing her into the water of her choosing to surface discovered and decided.

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The priest is not made.  He must be born a priest; must inherit his office. I refer to the new birth—the birth of water and the Spirit.  Thus all Christians must became priests, children of God and co-heirs with Christ the Most High Priest.   - Martin Luther

affectionately known as mumzi.

:: by Marguerite Delcambre

We all grow in the soil of family cultivated and nurtured around us.  In that soil we stretch out, push into the dirt and feel life all around.  There are rocks and weeds and roots that we must move around, grow through and deal heavily with.  Regardless, it is in that soil that we flourish or flounder.  As a parent, it is my duty to nurture the soil my kids are growing in and keep it healthy.

In planning for this series of guest posts, I felt it would be lacking without one.  I would like to give you the slightest glimpse into the heart of my mother.  She is a woman who with an unassuming, quiet strength has made a way for me.  Constantly tending to the soil of our hearts in ways lasting, my sister and I grew healthy despite rocks and thinning soil drying in sun.  Death of a child, her firstborn, when I was only five.  Marriage suddenly no more after years of happy and whole.  Her faith strained undoubtedly, but in that straining, grew unmistakably deep loosening soil richer.

And as the soil in my life thinned, she arrived.  I will forever owe a debt to her that she will never accept for pausing her life to see that ours resumed.  Quietly cultivating soil.

I asked her to simply write a letter addressed to my daughters speaking into their future words that would carry.  I also asked my grandmother to write letters to my girls.  Maw maw Lucy is well into her nineties and she like my mom is still tending to the soil.  I am who I am largely due to these two remarkable ladies, my mom and my grandmother.[gallery link="file" columns="5"]


Dear Elizabeth, Emily and Chloe,

I love you all so much, and I want God's very best for you.  You've already felt more pain in your short lives than most girls your age, but I see you as winners.  I love the young girls you're becoming.  I know you are who you are because you have had such a strong foundation laid by your daddy and mommy.

I have been praying for you from the time I heard the good news that you would be born.  I prayed that you would be safe, beautiful, smart, talented.  I'll always pray for you.  My prayer now is that you will follow Jesus all the days of your lives.  Then you will make wise choices. Choose to be honest in everything you do.  You'll make mistakes, but admit those mistakes and choose not to make the same mistake again.  You'll  feel so good about yourself and others will respect us.

Choose to love your sisters, watch out for each other, help each other.  When you think of Mommy and it hurts and makes you lonely, sad, or even angry, remember that your sisters feel that way too sometimes.  Be kind and loving to each other.  Friends will come and go but sisters will always be sisters.  Choose your friends wisely.  Having a few friends who believe in the same things you believe is better than having lots of friends who are untrustworthy friends, who may try to get you to do the wrong thing.

Choose carefully who to date...  My prayer is that your future mate will love Jesus first, then you, that he will be the leader and provider in your home, that he will honor and respect you.  First get to know the young man you fall in love with by dating him, become engaged, marry... Then have a home together and have babies.  That's God's plan for you that order. Choose wisely.  You may hear lots of people say "its ok, everyone's doing it."  That's a lie.  There are some who choose being different from the crowd because the crowd may be doing the wrong thing.  Listen to that still small voice in your heart who wants to lead you the right way.

Remember that I'll always love you.  I hope that no matter what you face in life, you will always know that I am here for you.

Love you forever, Mumzi



Thanks for reading this week.  And a lasting thank you to the amazing women who were my guests: Rachel McGowan (@_rachchristine) ||  Meshali Mitchell (@meshali) || Felicity White (@felicitywhite)