I was baptized as an adult. Many people don't remember their baptisms, because they were only days or weeks old at the time. In my case, I remember being dressed in white, walking down the aisle, standing at the front of the Church overcome with nervousness. Of course, I was excited, but being the center of attention—all eyes on me—was very distracting. The priest was a large man, much larger in stature than I, and seemed like a giant towering over me. Yet as he scooped up the water from the baptismal font and poured it time after time over my forehead proclaiming boldly "Ricky, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit" in my mind I was waiting for something miraculous to happen. And although at the time I didn't feel it or hear it or even sense it, in hindsight I know that something miraculous did happen that day.
