My mom called last night to tell me that she got baptized.

When she was here for the holidays, she mentioned that while she had become "born again" about five years ago, on her own, she was now being invited by the church she attended to go through the actual dunking process with the congregation as witness.

Being the wise-ass that I am, I expressed concern for her hair-do, which she spends at least an hour 'do-ing' every morning. She assured me that her hairdresser was coming along to fix her up afterward.

I'm glad I asked.

My mom, to say the least, is not real big on being the center of attention in any situation. I don't think she relished the idea of being submerged in water in front of a bunch of onlookers. But she did express, or tried to, the difference between developing a relationship with Jesus in the privacy of her own heart, mind and soul, and then going through the actual physical process in front of others. I got what she was saying, though.. the whole thing about making the mind/body connection. Solidifying that commitment on another level adds a depth of dimension.. which is why ritual is so powerful. And this one in particular, for Christians... taking the plunge (pun totally intended) says to the world and your innermost being that you have chosen to die to your old way of life, and become reborn again into the grace of God.

I was reminded of when I was about ten, and my mom's parents were trying their best to make a good Christian out of me, in spite of my mom's reluctance to walk that path herself. They were nearly successful. I diligently read the Bible every day, set up a small altar in my room. When I watched my slightly younger cousin go through baptism, I was a little envious of her surety and conviction, as I really didn't think I was ready. (Not to mention I was terrified at the thought of being dunked underwater...)

Even at such a young age, I was a perfectionist, and I didn't believe I had any right calling myself a Christian until I ironed out a few personality flaws.

Here is my self-assessment from that time:

If you can't see it clearly, let me spell it out:

"Bad Points"

1. Cold to people
2. Impatient
3. Stubborn
4. Talks back to some people
5. Lies sometimes
6. Tiny-bit conceited (I love that...!)
7. Don't take care of myself
8. Gets mad easily
9. Not helpful
10. Not too good on complimenting.
11. Not socialble. (sic)
12. Grouch.
13. Says nothing to most things people ask me.
14. Weird (not sure why this is in the "bad" category..)

"Good Points"

1. Sometimes friendly
2. Funny (good sense of humor)
3. Good loser
4. Good winner
5. Good in school
6. When I'm not stubborn I try to do my best.
7. Most of the time I try to look my best.
8. Loves God - (fears God)
9. Sometimes tries to be friendly in the morning

As you can see, the "bad points" outweighed the "good points". And some of these, I admit, I haven't made a whole lot of progress on in 30+ years. I think the biggest strides probably have been in the area of #9 in the "Good points" column, though I am still working on that one.

I guess it amazes and saddens me a little that not only was I thinking about this stuff at that age, but I was actually concerned and more than a little fearful that, should I die before I figured this all out, I was going straight to hell. I don't think these are the kinds of thoughts a child should be having as they try to fall sleep at night.

Little did I realize that God would have taken me in whatever sorry shape I was in, but I guess even then, this was a foreshadowing that my perfectionism, my indecisiveness and my flakiness would be a lifelong obstacle for me in regards to commitment.

And maybe that's my biggest flaw: my inability to accept my imperfections as perfect and worthy of even divine love.

There's just something about a cat sitting in the sunlight..

Who knew that the self-cleaning feature of my oven could create such ambiance?

The perfect combination of late afternoon sun and the smoke created from baked-on turkey grease was such a beautiful sight to behold in my kitchen:

When I was grabbing random items for stocking stuffers off the toy shelf at Target, little did I know what a big deal one of them would be...

Boy #3 ended up with the Slinky... the original metal kind.. not the modernized cheap-o plastic version... encased in a cardboard box touting the amazing benefits of the "famous walking spring toy", in that it "moves without motors", and "there's nothing to wind.. nothing to wear out". And let's not forget, "..it's lots of fun!".

Indeed.

Watching the enthusiasm and awe that met with the opening of this gift, you'd think that my family had never seen one before, much less owned and mangled at least a dozen.

I guess I never really appreciated what a multi-sensory experience this simple coiled piece of steel could be: from the bright shiny silver of the metal, to the "shiiiing" sound it makes when you take it out of the box, to the arm hair-pinching inflicted by wearing it as a bracelet. In your face,  XBox 360! Can you walk down the stairs? Huh?

And now the ultimate in extreme Slinky-ing:(don't try this at home, unless, of course, you have 100,000 steps in your house..)