Gazing at the light in my hair as I combed, silence all around me in that building where prayer was the practice, the Spirit of God descended upon me. Sorrow washed through my heart for all my transgressions and tears wetted my face. I let them stay only for a few moments as my heart silently reached out in sorrow to heaven. Then there was peace. I quickly dried my face with my fingers and continued combing my hair into place.
I know this was the Spirit of God for two reasons. The first is that I was in a place of devout prayer to the Lord and He was certainly there. I doubt an evil spirit would have dared enter. The second is that I have come through the years to recognize the feeling of the Holy Spirit’s presence. Sometimes He gives gentle nudges and sometimes He covers like a blanket. This time, He blanketed.
In retrospect, I know this incident was my true baptism. I also know that year was likely the last chance during childhood that I would have been able to be baptized with water and confirmed into the Church where I grew up. I wonder. If my baptism had not happened, would the hand of God have rested so closely over me during the trials that were soon to follow? I am glad I did not need to find out.
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