Yesterday was an important day. We dedicated our baby girl to the Lord. A baby dedication is like a baptism or christening. Dedications are a ceremony at church where you dress your finest, invite the whole family, listen to the pastor’s instruction, promise to do your best to raise a Godly and loving child and then listen while the pastor prays a blessing on the baby. During all this you hold your breath and hope baby (and hyper hormonal mom) don’t cry while everyone is staring.
Here I am in one of the two dresses that actually fit in my post baby body. The first one I wore the day before to a wedding. My six-year-old is wearing her flower girl dress. My husband is wearing a very cool shirt he got off Ebay. Baby is wearing the dedication gown that her big sister wore six years ago. It was made by my aunt from a pattern that matched her daughter’s. I cried when I opened it. The bonnet is my favorite.
I’m not sure if big sister thought baby was going to fall out, if she was worried the dress was too long so she was hiding it or if she just wanted to hold on. I know I want to hold onto my baby sister and my daughters most of the time. Letting go is hard. Part of a dedication is remembering that we don’t own our children. They belong to God. We just get the amazing privilege to care and guide them for a little while.
This photo makes me happy. Our family stretches all the way across the front of the church. I love that people came from near and far to attend. I love that this family includes people who are grafted in by years of friendship. I love all the cousins, they were perfect. I love that all our parents were present and that they invest in my girls. I miss my grandmothers.
I love that Jesus told his disciples not to send the children away. I love that my daughters were both dedicated in the church I grew up in and where my spouse and I were married. I love that my pastor loves babies. I love that my eldest is impish enough to be grinning into the camara in the middle of this prayer.
I think she gets the spunk from me and she has my grin. I love that my tall strong husband is gently guiding the little one off the stage. He’s a good man. I’m grateful to share the job of raising these two with him.
It was a good day. I’m grateful.