Two weekends ago, family and friends gathered to celebrate the baptism of our little Liliana June. As someone who didn’t grow up seeing a lot of infant baptisms (I was baptized twice, neither time as an infant, incidentally) the beauty and grace of infant baptisms is so striking. We had family and friends pour into our tiny church and promise with us to raise little Lily loving the Lord and knowing the wonders of his love for her.
The service starts with the parents and godparents naming the child.
Celebrant: The Candidate for Holy Baptism will now be presented.
Parents and Godparents: We present Liliana June Rogers Hays to receive the Sacrament of Baptism.
Twelve years ago we picked out her name in a park at the end of summer. We had just gotten engaged, and we were dreaming of our future. I told Evan that I loved the name Liliana. I had heard it on the plane on my first trip to Europe, and my great-great grandmother was Lilian. And he said he liked flower names. Plus we both loved Lily for Lily Potter. (We really do love Harry Potter that much—although all the names we picked out have at least one homage to our favorite authors.) June we picked out to honor my surrogate grandma June Young, with hopes that our Lily June will be as faithful, gentle, kind, and loving as that June is. And to tie us all together as a family, Evan asked (when we were about to get married) if he could take Rogers as a middle name. Now all four of us have Rogers as our second middle name sliding next to our Scottish last name Hays.
Five years ago we told our dearest DC friends that we were moving to Wisconsin. And over dinner when we broke the news, we asked two of our very favorite couples if they would consider being our future children’s godparents. Graciously they both agreed.
Evan and Christian had been floor mates for two years and then house mates their senior year at Wheaton, and Lesley grew up in Maryland like Evan, and the three of us got degrees in history together. They got married two months after us (but had been dating nearly four years longer), and for all those young married years we got together and feasted: grilled salmon and asparagus, butternut squash with Rosemary, and flourless chocolate cake. We also both went to Anglican Churches in DC.
Christian and Lesley jumped into the parenting pool first—their Lilian is about to turn 5 and Calvin about to turn 3.
At that park all those years before, we had also decided if we had a boy after Jackson, we’d name him Calvin (guess which fantasy author that one is connected to?).
So when we got pregnant last summer, we knew that Christian and Lesley would be this child’s godparents, and that he or she would either be Lily or Calvin and share the name with one of their kids. A few days into knowing we were pregnant, we called to tell Christian and Lesley the good news, interrupting bath time and bedtime, and all the busy business of having two toddlers. But they rejoiced with us (briefly, because bath time can be paused for only a minute). They already knew so deeply what it means to have and love a second child, and they are so good at making her (and us!) feel special.
They flew all the way out from Northern Virginia to celebrate our Liliana’s baptism, leaving their sweet kids with grandparents for the weekend. They knew exactly how to talk to Jackson (just 3 months younger than their son) presenting him with a firetruck puzzle as they walked in the door. And we spent the best afternoon in the perfect weather walking along Lake Michigan with breathtaking views: beaches, mansions, and breezy green parks.
We ended our day at the Whole Foods hot bar (our favorite place to eat these days). My own godparents are so dear to me, that while I was excited to pick out godparents for our children, I wondered how I’d ever find people like my own Heidi and Doug. But our kids have two of the most wonderful couples as their godparents—Jackson has Aunt B and Uncle Daniel, and Lily has Aunt Lesley and Uncle Christian. And we have the immense privilege of having our friends become family through the sacrament of baptism.
And we need them. We need our friends and family to promise to help us raise our children.
In the baptismal service, after the child is named, the celebrant asks the parents and godparents.
Celebrant: Will you be responsible for seeing that Liliana is brought up in the Christian faith and life?
Parents and Godparents: We will, with God’s help.
Celebrant: Will you by your prayers and witness help her to grow into the full stature of Christ?
Parents and Godparents: We will, with God’s help.
Not 15 minutes after the service was over, I was outside giving instructions to my family about getting into the house for them to start party prep, and Evan was running back into the church to ask his family to come out for a picture, and Jackson decided to wander up the block back towards our car. And somehow in the commotion of 5 other small blond hair children (2 cousins and 3 church friends) I failed to immediately notice Jackson’s wandering. Evan came out and asked where Jackson was, and 45 seconds of panic ensued. As I ran to check that he hadn’t gone back inside to the nursery, Christian ran up the block and found him 100 yards away crying by a tree while a kind stranger and his dog tried to get the story out of a sobbing Jackson (who was probably not comforted by the presence of the dog.)
We always need family and friends to raise kids, but it seems like I need disproportionately more help now that I have two children. Jackson seemed no worse for the wear, smiling for the Hays family picture a minute later. And several people offered their own losing kids stories or reminded me that even Mary lost Jesus in a similar setting of lots of family and holy services.
Jackson also, in the middle of the renunciation of evil section of the baptism, grabbed onto a pillar candle and hot wax rained down on his new church shoes and Evan’s hands. No one was burnt, and I’m not sure anyone else noticed, but I’ll remember. In liturgical services that are so similar, it’s the mishaps that make the lasting memories—that and wax stains on new shoes.
Lily for her part screamed the whole way to church in protest of missing the majority of her morning nap. A bonus of having experienced friend godparents who survived colic was that they weren’t phased by talking over and around a screaming infant. Lily rarely cries like that unless she’s really overtired (and hot), so I wasn’t quite sure how she’d handle the church service. But she took a quiet cat nap as I walked her in the ergo outside (the same path Jackson would take 2 hours later) and she revived enough to nurse and peak out of her carrier through the beginning of the service with beautiful songs led by our worship leader Zach, or the lovely homily that our Deacon Ryan prepared. Ryan asked if we had a verse in mind for the service and we picked Luke 12:22-31 “Consider the lilies of the field.”
I always need the reminder to not worry, to believe as Ryan quoted our bishop, Todd Hunter, “You are always safe in the Kingdom of God.” There was the immediate application of not worrying if sleep-deprived Lily was going to suddenly start wailing as the baptism began. Or the chance 45 minutes later to not worry about momentarily not knowing where Jackson was. But the big application is a reminder that we receive the grace of God without merit and without limit just as Lily does during her baptism, unearned and free. And in the paradox of all the sacraments, we are invited to participate. In the service we participate by first renouncing Satan and all the forces of wickedness, evil powers and sinful desires that draw us from the love of God. And then we are invited to make vows on behalf of Lily:
Question: Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?
Answer: I do.
Question: Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love?
Answer: I do.
Question: Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?
Answer: I do.
And then the service turns to the congregation. The seats of our little church were packed with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousin and friends who are like family, new friends and old friend, acquaintances and new faces. We need them all to help Lily grow in faith, to as our DC church used to pray for our kids so that they “might never know a day apart from God.”
Celebrant: Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support Liliana in her life in Christ?
People: We will.
And then we are all invited to remember and renew our own baptismal covenant. From 2 year old Jackson to 63 year old Grandpa Jack, we all say the oldest creed together, declaring wildly and with abandon that we believe in God. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. And then the celebrant asks if we will continue in the apostles’ teaching, persevere in resisting evil, repent and return to the Lord, proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, seek and serve Christ in all persons, strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being. And we answer.
People: We will with God’s Help.
Then Christian and Lesley took turns petitioning God on behalf of Lily.
Deliver her, O Lord, from the way of sin and death.
Open her heart to your grace and truth.
Fill her with your holy and life-giving Spirit.
Keep her in the faith and communion of your holy Church.
Teach her to love others in the power of the Spirit.
Send her into the world in witness to your love.
Bring her to the fullness of your peace and glory.
Then having remembered all the reasons that we come to the water to be baptized, it was time for Lily to be baptized.
I had handed her off to Lesley for the prayers leading up to this point because I like the imagery of Lily’s godparents holding her in prayer. (And some of the most beautiful pictures of Jackson’s baptism are his godmother Brittany holding him during the service). And then Lesley turned Lily over to Ryan for the baptism, another picture of how we continually have to give our children over to God—to let them die and raise with him.
Liliana June, I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The invocation of the trinity always takes me back to the moment in our wedding when we exchange rings and said that we give this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. I think that those are some of the most sacred moments of my life—the words of my baptism in the trinity, and my vow to love Evan with all that I am, and all that I have, in the Name of the Father, of the Son, and the of Holy Spirit. And as we are married longer, the vows seem more wild, more unattainable on my own, and more and more a grace that our most powerful and gracious God gives us.
And so Lily was baptized into grace.
And she cried — the water, the strange hands, the long morning. And when Ryan handed her back to me, everyone cheered, and Lily sort of blinked at the the noise, and the people, and the celebration, and smiled.
And I held my daughter, hair slicked back with Holy Water, as everyone welcomed the newly baptized. She, for her part, serenely took in the rest of the service as we were welcomed to first feast at the communion table and then after the service as we feasted at our house for lunch.
As people poured into the house, I asked my friend Jen to take my camera and get a few shots of everyone. And it just captured that sweet moment in the afternoon.
Jackson falling asleep on the ride home, and Evan’s dad and then my mom taking turns sitting with him as he napped in the car.
Cousins dancing on the sidewalk outside of the church, worship music spilling out into the street because it was so hot inside.
My dad grilling burgers and brats for everyone on late great-grandpa Denny’s grill.
Grandpa Doug getting to hold his granddaughter for the first time.
A pack of children chasing a giant red ball around our back yard.
Newlywed new friends grinning for the camera.
Men talking and playing corn hole outside.
Women gathered in the kitchen cutting up watermelon and making sure children had enough to eat.
People eating the same flourless chocolate cake that punctuated our dinners with Christian and Lesley over the years.
Grace and joy and love filled up the house, spilling out into the yard. Of course, not everyone was there. There were a lot of people to miss: grandmas and aunts far away, grandfathers whose deaths feel bigger on holy days and holidays, friends who’ve moved across the country, church friends who don’t go to our church anymore. Even our church is hanging on by a thread: maybe there will be years of baptizing babies to come or maybe Lily will be the last.
Soon, people were hugging goodbye, touching Lily’s little toes as she slept the afternoon away. We tucked a print of Monet’s waterlilies into Christian and Lesley’s bags, so they could consider their (two) lilies. Everyone helped us clean up, folding blankets, and carrying chairs downstairs. Finally, we said goodbye to Grandpa Doug as he got into his car and started driving all the way back to Maryland.
It was a fitting way to end the summer of having a new baby. Evan’s students came back last week, and the backyard already has leaves coming down. And baptizing Lily seemed like the little bit of the itty-bitty baby things that we had to do to welcome her into the world.
Welcome to the great big family of God Liliana June; we’re so glad you’re here!
