Jobe Joy

Saturday was a red-letter day for us: Jobe was baptized. This is BIG. I've never been the mom at one of these occasions before--the sister, the aunt, even the teaching missionary, but never the mom.


Let me tell you how it feels: un-tell-able. There's the disbelief that this child is really old enough --how on earth is he 8?! Then there's the absolute joy that he's prepared himself for this step. And just when you're about to burst from overly-mixed emotions, the actual baptism takes place, and it's overwhelmingly perfect. That's the only way to explain it: perfect. The Spirit testifies, the heart answers, and strange watery stuff starts leaking from eyes.


Moms. We're moist about things like that.






The baptizer and the baptizee. (The rose? An old Merkley tradition. But not as old as I am, since I didn't get one on my baptism day. I am the un-rosed one of legend.)

If it has to do with LDSs, it involves food, right?
Jobe wanted a blue cake, "because water looks blue. right?"
(It was originally a Barbie cake--but we eliminated the incriminating evidence. Lindy loves the incriminating evidence. It's a win-win sort of thing.)

"Aw, man. Two more years until I can have a baptism/Barbie cake."

"TOO. MANY. ICE. CREAM. OPTIONS."