Saturday, June 23, 2012
A PINK DAY
My face in my hands, I was feeling pinkless. Suddenly I looked up and there before me was a Catholic priest. "Can you baptize my son?" He looked at me, I can't remember his face but I remember he looked long and hard at me. "Are you Catholic?", he answered. I felt compelled to lie but he was a priest after all so I answered, "No."
"I can't babtize your son if you're not Catholic. It's against my vows. He's dieing I answered. He's had pnemonia for months and months and it's not healing. I want him to go to heaven, I want him to be baptized. My hiusband was raised Catholic, but never goes to church."
"Does you husband want him to be baptized? I don't know whaat my husband wants. I've been here for seventy five days and I haven't seen my husband for many days. My daughter is five and I haven't been able to see her either. I've not left my son. I've not had sleep, shower or a decent meal. I don't have any money and I haven't moved my car from the parking spot in seventy five days. I don't know what I'm going to do, I don't know if today it's going to be his last. I believe in God and I know my responsibility is to teach him about God. I saw you and it occurred to me thagt God wants us to be baptized."
He looked at me with that look. He removed his robe, his priestly robe. Slowly we entered the hospital room together. He used the bedside table and pulled out his baptismal kit from a satchel, something like a doctor would carry. He cherished his tools, delicately he laid them out one by one. First, a white linen cloth with a cross on it. Then he took a small bowl from the satchel and next he poured water from a vile; I assumed it was holy water. He took out a baptismal certificate and filled it out with our names and carefully he placed the date on the paper. He prayed silently for it seemed like an eternity.
Then he reached through the bars of the crib. Louis lay sleeping, IV's dripping and his breathing labored. He didn't know, wake up or even acknowledge we were in the room. The priest began saying his ritual words. The only ones I heard were, "I baptize you in the name of the father, son and holy ghost. Louis Conner, Jr. , you are sealed with the cross of Christ.
I let out a sigh. Pinkness filled the room. There was only me, the priest, Louis and God. I thought I could hear angels singing Halleluyah. The room was filled with other patients, other parents, nurses and doctors. I couldn't see them. I could only see the color pink. A smile spread on Louis' face. He lay sleeping but a smile graced his face. I always wondered if he somehow knew that he was a child of God. Did he feel the pink, spreading over the room? Did he feel the arms of God holding him and the angels singing? Did he know that he was a child of God?
Come with me to the Pink Saturday Party today.