In the Father, Son, and Awkwardness

I was still shy when I got baptized in the fifth grade. Not as shy as when I was really little, but in front of strangers, and enjoyed neither crowds nor the attention of adults. I remember being in the water tank in the incredibly heavy choir robe and that when the pastor asked me whatever questions, I said yes. And that afterward, there was only stillness. The entire church was looking at me, especially all my peers. But the pastor did not hear me. I wasn't sure if I should repeat myself. I was only 11. And shy. So there I stood. And he stood. And the whole congregation leaned in. Just waiting in silence.

Finally, my brother spoke up. "He asked you a question," he said, which did not particularly help the situation. Unless by 'help,' one meant 'make everyone laugh at me.' "I already answered," I mumbled in annoyance, and quietly, with embarrassment, said yes again. The pastor took another minute. Then in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, dunked me. And that, was my dramatic confession of faith.