My granddaughter Sophia Cope was baptized on Saturday morning.
A bitter cold day, snow fell and icy wind howled around the corners leaving large drifts blocking our way to the church.
A woman in a van nearly spun into us as she skid around a bend.
Then as we turned into the church parking lot, I took a deep breath.
All around me, the world was dressed in white - the season of waiting.
An old man was shoveling the walk for us as we entered the church.
Then I saw Sophia, dressed in white - eyes shining - run toward me with outstretched arms.
After hugs and pictures we walked into the chapel.
I watched as loving family members filed into the large bench filled room and patiently waited for the service to begin.
Sophia asked me to give a talk about the Holy Ghost - a gift to me - for I'd had a week to remember how the spirit comforts, directs, warms and enlightens.
As my son John placed his fingers and the piano keys and began to play, all those sitting in the chapel became reverent.
I watched loving family members file into the chapel and fill the pews.
After songs, prayers and a talk, we gathered next to the baptismal font. Small children knelt close so they could see.
Sophia and her father, both stepped reverently into the warm waiting water.
"Having been commissioned by Jesus Christ I baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost."
Down into the water in a loving father's arms, then rising clean, pure and whole.
Later, a circle of priesthood holders placed their hands gently on her small head as the gift of the Holy Ghost was given.
I stand in awe at the majesty and simplicity of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the faith of an eight-year-old child.
Then back into the biting cold wind and snow covered world for our ride home.
Without remembrance of our heavenly home, we too are in a season of waiting.
Someday, with the faith and obedience of a child, we too will return to our loving heavenly home.