For me, for all of us, it was one of those gatherings full of pure excitement, joy and gratitude.
As usual with most dreams and visions, I later realized it was sort of out of place. Mainly because the baptism reception will not take place in the summer, but more likely in the winter or early spring, which takes a backyard barbecue out of the equation. But it was a vision nonetheless.
Something came up over the weekend that reminded me of the many visions I had of our time with Cara. Probably one of the biggest things Cynthia and I both dreamed about was Cara's baptism at our church. I spent countless Sundays sitting up in the choir looking out in congregation dreaming about the day when Pastor G would pour blessed water over Cara's little body. I couldn't wait for that moment. I couldn't wait for the moment for everyone in the congregation to claim Cara as their own. Cara's baptism, the dying of herself and raising up into the new life of Christ, meant the world to us and still does.
And yet I could have never imagined handing over Cara in the way we did in that hospital room. I never imagined G there in such a way, holding Cara, anointing her with oil, and handing over her lifeless body and full spirit to God. This is not the type of vision a new Father has. But it was a beautiful moment that I'll always carry with me.
Cynthia and I, and I imagine even Cara, have these visions of our next little one and we can only pray to God they come true. That somehow, the brokenness of life will not rear its ugly head again and instead we'll be able to experience the hope of life.
I hope with all my heart that we'll have the incredible privilege of baptizing our baby at our church one day. It's a vision that I'm not letting go of. I know Cara will also be there in spirit, as she is so often felt as we worship.