Here I am in a room with four grown men and nerves start to creep up my spine and into my heart. I stood there paralyzed with fear unsure of what is about to occur. Next thing I know, there I was submerged into the bottom of the water, brought to the surface gasping for air, then plunged back into water. I felt lifeless as if I was dead. Well, oddly enough I was dead.
My day started off like any other day, with my mom yelling at me to wake up. At the crack of dawn my mom wakes me up each morning and goes into a whole speech about if you are a female there are responsibilities that you must uphold. It is surprising to me on a day to monumental, I forgot what occurred most of the day. If someone asks me about details of that day, I honestly forget. My day flashes before my eyes and the next thing you know, it is nighttime. As I get dressed, I can’t help but feel nervous. Something was telling me to go right back to bed, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. So, I pushed my inhibitions aside and made my way to church.
I’m sitting in a room and it felt as if everything was happening in slow motion around me. As I waited with my friends, the anxiety continued to build. At my age commitment to anything is close to impossible. I change my mind like I change outfits. So, deciding to dedicate my life to something bigger than myself is one of the scariest things ever done. “Am I ready?”; “Is this what you want from me Father?”; “What is in your plan for me?” These are the questions that raveled my thoughts and my prayers for months. This was a day of pure self-reflection and I hated it. I am the type of person who doesn’t know themselves very well; so, when people ask me questions about myself, I fumble almost every time. My parents were extremely excited. They would go on and on to my siblings about how they need to look at me as an example, I chose this life, God is pleased with me, etc. All of this just made more scared. It was about 8:00 when everything began, but we had one more thing to do. During this time only, the full members were allowed inside the church. We were called individually to the front and anyone in the sanctuary can ask us any question they want. This may seem like a long process and it is, but our church wants to make sure that we know the seriousness of the commitment we are taking. God led me through this step and helped me say the right things. There were certain things I had to conceal. My parents couldn’t know about “him”, and most certainly not the church. He knew it too, so we were on the same page. In the Haitian culture, females are not allowed to be dating until they are done with college. Little did my parents know that I have a boyfriend. Putting that little fact aside, I articulated well and without nervousness. After this ordeal, it was time for me to get ready.
From my white headwrap of honor to white gown of holiness, I have never felt so “godly”. My friends that were with me were experiencing the same roller coaster of emotions that I was. It was at this moment that we decided to come together to pray and sing. As we were singing I felt so peaceful and so in tune with the holy spirit. I felt heard. Although my voice was masked through the array of voices I knew that God heard me. He heard my cries when I was depressed, he heard me when I was pleading for my father’s health, and he hears me now. With each step I take into the large tub filled with water, my anxiety lessened. Here I am surrounded by these men getting ready for me to “shed” my old spirit. The main pastor then began with a series of questions. “Do you believe that Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior and that he died for our sings?”; “Yes, I do”. “Do you know what happened after he died?”; “He rose again and went to heaven”. “Do you believe that he is going to return?”; “Yes”. As I was standing there, I thought about the countless months I spent in baptism class. Our baptism classes at the time were extremely traditional. Since I attend a Haitian church, our teacher only spoke Haitian Creole and French. You can imagine how difficult this might be for someone who’s primary language is English. Although I speak Haitian Creole as well, I still found it difficult. Despite this challenge I still learned a lot, mostly from my peers.
Another pastor blessed me and then down I went. While lay in the water I felt myself slowly dying. Metaphorically speaking of course. Spiritually I was dead. I thought I was fully submerged but I wasn’t. On my way up, they forced down to the bottom to ensure I was fully covered. Once I got out of the water, I felt clean and like a whole new person. I finally felt heard and I was seen. This was the day where I became one and I was set apart as holy and I couldn’t be happier.
Looking back at that day, I finally felt aligned with my faith. I thought that this feeling would persist, but it honestly didn’t last more than week. After that I started to feel “dirty”. I felt as if I was a disappointment. There was an ideal image of what I was supposed to be in my head, and I was not living up to it. Now, I am at a place where I know that it is okay to mess up and God will be there to help me.
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