This weekend, our children were baptized in my hometown: Richmond, Virginia.
We were fortunate to have the Reverend Blanchard officiate this private, beautiful service at St. Stephen's Church. Cora wore a beautiful gown given to her by my cousin, Ashley Epes; Jack wore a lovely white linen suit given to him by our cousin, Shelby Tabeling.
My parents hosted a welcome dinner for godparents and family on Saturday night. Amazingly, we had crisp, cool weather with a swollen moon spilling onto the deck. Jack's godfather, Jon Stickley, had driven up from Asheville. Jon, Frazier, and I played bluegrass until late. My godfather, Saint Tucker stayed until late; his daughter and my good friend, Maria Tucker, is one of Cora's godmothers. She'd flown in from Bozeman, Montana, to be a part of the service.
"I don't want to be baptized!" Jack kept saying. When Reverend Blanchard doused him with water from the baptismal font, he looked offended but amused. He was not amused, however, when Mommy and Daddy picked up the guitar and mandolin to sing "Where the Soul of Man Never Dies." Indeed: this was supposed to be his service. How dare Mom and Dad take the attention away from him for a minute? He threw a mini-tantrum while we sang.
We had a reception at my parents' house. Again, Stickley, Frazier and I played our instruments after the lunch. It ended up being a very musical weekend.