What's Under the Kilt?

Wyatt's baptism was on Sunday. I have been looking forward to this day since June with a mix of anticipated dread and overwhelming joy. I am happy to report that overwhelming joy won out. I was slightly panicked on Saturday with hurricanes Hanna and Ike coming our way but as luck (or more appropriately God) would have it Sunday was beautiful. The sky's rained sunshine on us and there was not a cloud in the sky, a gorgeous day for a Christening.

It took everything in my power not to burst out crying during the ceremony. Michael and Father Simon did an amazing job. I am sure is must have been a little disturbing for Michael. Preaching to his family. But, as always, he was eloquent, inspiring, and insightful. Michael always seems to know exactly the right thing to say, the right phrasing that makes situations seem slightly clearer and more easily understood. I guess that is why he is such a good preacher and a perfect choice for Godfather. He is already planning a trip to Sesame Place when Wyatt is 5. Rebecca, as Godmother, has already far surpassed her role as I have gushed about in several previous posts. Her gift was very clever. She wanted to get him something for now: a set of cowboy socks. For later: a Tiffany's cup and plate. And forever: Wyatt's very own share of Disney stock.

It was very symbolic for me, seeing our entire family standing around the baptismal font. I kept on thinking about all those faces who support us and will be there for us no matter what. It is a great feeling to be loved with such intensity and passion. We are very blessed to have a close family and I often take that for granted, automatically assuming that all families are closely woven like ours. My family means the world to me. They make up who I am, who I strive to be, and who I will become. They are my foundation, my past, present, and future. Seeing Wyatt being welcomed into the church, by my cousin, surrounded by our family and friends, embedded the image of him becoming part of this miraculous circle, entwined, and bonding us together. I am going to start crying again just thinking about it. Having Wyatt has made me so grateful for my families love and support. I hope that Wyatt grows to understand and cherish that love the way that I do.

Here is the outfit story: I have our traditional white christening gown that Nana made from a pattern she got at the Brooklyn Museum. Rebecca, Elizabeth, and I all wore that dress on our christening day when we were around 3 months. You have all seen the pictures and know that Wyatt is the size of a small horse. About once a month, I would try it on him to see if it would fit and slowly he outgrew all the pieces. The hat was first, then the shoes, then the sleeves, etc. The actual dress fit him, surprisingly, but the length was all wrong, too short to be a gown and too long to be a dress. It sat awkwardly just below his feet. I thought that tradition was more important and he would wear it no matter how awkward. Once Auntie De, my Godmother, the miracle worker, heard the story she was the sleuth on the case. She ordered, all the way from Scotland, a full Scottish kilt for Wyatt complete with the fur pouch (I think its called a sporran), the sock accessories, hat and bow tie. Nana's father came over from Scotland and Auntie De got the kilt in our family's tartan, the Henderson clan. Talk about heritage! Wyatt looked stunning and very much like a little Scottish lad.