When we attended Ian's goddaughter Peyton's baptism, the priest suggested that we think of the sacrament as the pickling of a cucumber - after pickling (aka baptism), the cucumber (aka baby) is the same yet different (now a pickle) in a wonderful but irreversible way. This canning related metaphor really spoke to me - who doesn't love a good pickle?!
In a salute to my Dad, we chose his birth date to have Alistair baptised at St. Michael's Church in Corkery. In spite of a lack of farm metaphors during Alistair's baptismal mass, under the watchful eyes of his parents, god parents, brothers, grandmas, aunt, uncle, cousins and Grandpa and Baby up in heaven, Alistair Scott got soaked, oiled and subsequently pickled.
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| Alistair with his parents, god parents and brothers. |
Alistair slept through the entire event; thank goodness because no one wants to listen to a crying cucumber for an hour.
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Alistair wore a knitted bonnet, sweater and booty set that has been
passed down through the Kehoe family for generations. |
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Alistair also wore the same Christening gown that I,
my Dad, Liam and Seamus sported on their baptism days. |
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| Uncle Christian and Alistair admiring my attempt at a cupcake cross cake. |
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Ian holding our new pickle.
Apparently sleeping through the day's events was exhausting! |
Thanks to everyone who participated in this important canning event in Alistair's life.
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