This baptism feels kind of wedding-like. They’re so much scurrying and hostelry that the actual event threatens to fade from us. As it turns out we get a quiet room, an intimate crowd, and warm feelings anyway. Mark Robbins conducts, Grandpa rambles, and Drew and I go down into the warm water and accomplish her baptism. She’s picked #81 for our hymn, which is followed by the day’s high point. Sharon’s after-talk, which she’s laboured over mightily, turns out to be as plain and pure as a talk can possibly be. The child, in the Best N.T./King Benjamin sense of the word, spoke directly to the child, leaving the rest of us feeling reproved, and lucky to be in the same room. At the end Caitlin turns the camera on Drew. “How does it feel?” “Fine,” Drew whispers.