My Turn To Go

Ten feet out pastor was
In water up to his waist
On a cold November morning
At that river baptism place

He smiled then beckoned me
It was my turn to go
Others had gone before me
Into that hard-driving snow

The people, they were singing
Voices quivered in the cold
“Shall We Gather At The River”
Off key, if truth be told

I was barefoot and shivering
Wearing a t-shirt and jeans
That first step took my breath
That water was cold and mean

Pastor, he took my hand
Moments later I was plunged
Came up gasping and dripping
To the bank, I did gladly lunge

Ma and Pa, they were there
With a wool blanket to wrap
My teeth chattering, covered up
The onlookers began to clap

“Thank you, Jesus!” they praised
During that cold winter storm
Another soul had attained Heaven
While they tried to stay warm

Pastor, he waded to shore
His face, it was turning blue
With a smile, he looked at me
Said, “I’m very proud of you”

Many years have gone by
I often think about that day
Nary a soul got sick
Nor for any did we had to pray

I believe my God protected us
In the middle of that storm
What had happened was important
To be hindered in any form

Tuesday, June 14, 2022