Angie

I met Angie at potluck this week. After loading my plate with my vegetarian selection of Yapese food, I sat near her, and we shared a smile. She asked me if I was one of the new SMs, and I said yes. She said she was new too. But I didn’t know how new until we got to the beach.

As I stood awkwardly, about to be blown over by the wind at the beach, she motioned me over to a flat rock next to her. That’s when I found out she was one of the 20 about to get baptized. She asked me what I had felt like when I had been baptized, and then she began sharing her story. She’d already been baptized as a Catholic and then a Mormon, but she said God felt closer this time because of everything she had learned in the evangelistic meetings. She talked about her kids and grandkids, most of whom live in the States, and how she had lost her husband. I was reminded of the sweetness of slowing down a conversation. Of waiting instead of responding to everything. Of savoring the moment.

Angie asked me to pray for her. I told her I would. After her baptism, while she was still dripping with salt water, I found her, squeezed her hand, and told her congratulations. Her radiant smile reflected the Son.