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Baptism, brownies and what matters most

I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on Saturday, Feb. 24, 1979, in Vernon Hills, Ill. My father performed the ordinance and I remember the experience as if I were living it in real-time today.

After the baptism, standing in the changing area of the men’s room, my father asked why I was taking so long to change. In truth, I feared if I changed out of my soggy jumpsuit, I might lose the feelings that washed over me.

We stopped for pizza with friends on the way home at our favorite spot. Even now, I remember being just as excited for the dinner as I was for the baptism. It was part of a magic day that was long in the making with even longer lasting consequences.

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