Nine years ago today we brought our firstborn daughter Hannah to be crucified and buried with Christ in Holy Baptism. Since that day, we’ve been back to the font many times. Actually, we have been to three other fonts for our five other children. And God-willing, we’ll be back at the font again in just a matter of weeks, as we are awaiting the appearance of our seventh gift of God. Each and every trip impresses on me more and more that “there is nothing worth comparing to this life-long comfort sure.”
But that is not to say that my only trips to the font have been to be baptized, to baptize, or to bring my children to baptism. No, this font is a daily destination. For this is the only water that can wash away what has been wrong today and drown the old Adam who loves to swim. The daily activity starts with the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” It confesses “I believe” and it prays “Our Father.” From there, this daily activity gets going, singing a hymn perhaps, busy with vocations like father, husband, and pastor. Until the day is over and again we finish at the font. “Forgive me all my sins, and graciously keep me this night.”
A Shepherd's Story 
Nine years? Where does the time go? After looking at the pictures, I realize my handwriting hasn’t gotten any neater.
Still the greatest pastoral privilege is adminstering baptism. Also the greatest personal comfort.