Dear Girls,
As you get older and get to know me better, you might wonder why I agreed to have you baptized Catholic. It was a decision I spent a long time making. I wanted to make sure I knew what it meant to me—and what I expected of you—if I was going to take part in such a loaded ritual.
Your dad and I don’t share religious beliefs. He’d probably say that I don’t believe in anything. I spent my early teenage years evangelizing, but now I just try to avoid joining things. If someday you ask me about God, I’ll probably say, “I don’t know.” If you ask me whether there’s a heaven, I’ll say, “I don’t think so.”
I think your dad would say that Christianity makes the most sense to him of all the things he’s explored. Or that faith is where he finds solace. But none of this—the promise of heaven or the specter of hell, your father’s family traditions, the tug of my own upbringing—none of this is why I eventually decided I was okay with you being baptized.
See, your dad and I do share at least one belief: that a human being is body, mind, and spirit, and that it’s our responsibility to feed all these things in you. So when I get up in front of our family and friends and promise to raise you in the faith, this is what that means to me:
I promise to nurture your spiritual selves, whatever that comes to mean for you.
I promise to build a village around you, full of people who will help make you a whole person, because we can’t do it by ourselves. Each of your godparents is important to our family in a different way, and loves you, and will teach you.
I promise to privilege our family above myself, or your dad, or each of you individually.
Most of all, my girls, what I expect from you is to think deeply about who you are and what you stand for, and to make your own decisions about your bodies, your minds, and your spirits.
And we’ll be here to help you.
Love, always.
Mom
