My Little Fish

I was greeted with very bright eyes last night when I came home from an end-of-semester gathering for our Liturgical Studies Area. Monk had his first Swimming Test last night. Not only did he pass the level he was in (Beginner 3) but he also passed the next level as well--skipping right over Beginner 4 and heading into Advanced Beginner.

He was proud as could be. And I am proud of him, too. Truly an accomplishment for him and a great boost of confidence to take him through the next level.

Simple Pleasures

The other day I had the pleasure of a phone conversation with my Mom. She happened to mention that she had walked a total of 60 miles in the month of April. It was just the thing I needed to light a bit of a fire under this lazy butt. Not to mention that my father-in-law, who had major back surgery just before Christmas, is also putting up phenomenal numbers of miles walking each day. I decided it was time to stop thinking about walking for exercise and to start doing it.

So on Monday, and again today, I headed to the Bay to take a nice walk. The first day Monk volunteered to go with me. And today, I managed to rally both my guys to go with me. And, boy, is it good for the soul. There is something truly amazing about the opportunity to walk by the water, only a half mile or so from our home. Today the wind was really strong coming off the water--so that my ear ached after a while. The wind was causing little white caps and waves--and at one point I felt the spray of a bay-sized wave as it crashed against the rocks. We also spotted a small family of geese--a few adults and maybe ten goslings! All floating in a nice row, heading out for their own little exercise session.

The great thing about having a nine-year-old along for a walk is that it's never really about the walking. On Monday he had the two of us doing skipping and galloping races. And today he interspersed short jogging sessions on the return trip--certainly enough to get the heart rate up there! And something I don't think I'd ever make myself do on my own!

Now for a quick dinner. Then off soon to Monk's fourth swimming lesson. He's doing just great with it. His face just lights up when he's in the water. I think this is really, truly going to be the summer he finally learns. Our boy.

Today we also are celebrating Felix's fourth birthday! (Felix is our wonderful cat.) Last night about midnight he started meowing like crazy, desperately wanting to be let out for the night. He had completely stopped going outside at night almost eight months ago! But last night he was absolutely insistent. I finally gave in, and regretfully watched him as he disappeared into the cloak of darkness.

This morning about 5:30, I woke up a minute or two before a huge downpour started! Felix is one of those crazy cats who adores the rain. Sure enough, not long after the rain stopped, I heard his loud meow at the front door. He was sopped through. I grabbed a towel and dried him off while he purred away contentedly.

Later, when we remembered it was his birthday, we joked that he'd insisted on going out because the cats in the neighborhood had planned a party for him. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this were somehow true. I've never known a cat to make as many cat-friends as Felix has.

Swimming Lessons

When Monk first started talking about having a desire to be baptized, last January, he was curious about the process. And he wanted to know how D and I were each baptized. I was baptized (the first time, I admit with some chagrin) in a Methodist church when I was twelve years old. My brother and I were baptized on the same day; he needed to be "done" so he could get confirmed later in the same service. (Clearly our Methodist church hadn't engaged with the liturgical renewal movement yet and didn't know that one does not need to be "confirmed" if you're baptized as a believer. But that's another point altogether.)

So because we were Methodist at the time, I was baptized by pouring--a small amount of water dribbled carefully on my head. I remember my hair was pulled up and back into a bun that morning. And I feel like I can still go back to that moment, the gentle graciousness, almost caress of the water as it trickled through my hair and down along my neck. Ever play the game where someone pretends to break an egg on your head and they run their fingers gently over your head and onto your neck before you squirm away?

When I told Monk about this, he immediately exclaimed: "Can we become Methodists? Can't we get a Methodist pastor to baptize me?" The idea of being dunked under water in our big baptistery felt pretty overwhelming to him. And, in fact, with good reason. It's one sign the Baptists definitely get right.

But we wanted to pay attention to his fear, too. Not just dismiss it or try to simply talk him out of it. There is something to fear in our baptism, I think. Our participation in the death and resurrection of Christ is overwhelming. Even God's grace is overwhelming. If we cozy up to these kinds of things too much, then we have lost something of their meaning.

We knew that the greater part of Monk's fear, though, lay in his increasing discomfort at not being able to swim yet. Although he's had lessons each year since Kindergarten through his public school, they have never been sustained enough to get him comfortable in the water. Last summer would have been the ideal time for us to get him swimming lessons, but we were at a loss about how to do it. We don't have a pool, of course. And we don't belong to a swim club. And, frankly, it's pretty darn cold in this part of the country in July and August.

But sometime over the past year, swimming morphed from a fun thing that he wanted to learn to a frightening thing that felt just plain dangerous. And this danger, it was clear, was represented by the baptismal waters as well.

I shared some of this with my students a month or two ago in our class on baptism. Afterwards, one of my students came up and suggested that we intentionally tie the two together: Give him swimming lessons as his baptism gift. She said that for her, learning to swim was the most empowering thing she felt she'd ever learned to do. Why not link the empowerment of learning to swim with the powerful moment of baptism? The idea seemed brilliant to me.

So classes start tonight. In fact, in a few minutes--so I have to run. But I'll try and write some more later...