Slam Dunked

I'm sure many of you, if not all of you, know that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, more commonly known as Mormons.

I believe that mankind receives revelation today through a modern-day prophet and that families can be sealed together forever through ordinances performed in temples.

If you'd like to learn more, please visit http://www.mormon.org/.

Baptisms for the dead is one of the said ordinances that are performed. Those unfamiliar with the term I'm sure find it a confusing concept to comprehend. To set the record straight, NO, we do not baptize dead people.

By saying baptisms for the dead, we mean that baptisms are performed by living members of the church vicariously for those who have passed on without receiving or accepting a knowledge of the gospel while here on Earth.

It is a wonderful and sacred ordinance.

That being said, Satan must really hate it when I try to attend the temple because every time I go, I have the worst possible luck.

Because, without fail, I:

1) am baptized by the shortest man in the building
2) feel like a whale that is causing the font to overflow every time I'm dunked
3) shiver for 10 minutes while waiting in line for the shower
4) rub my face with a white towel before realizing I have wet mascara on
5) have to stand clutching a tiny towel while waiting for my locker stall to be vacated

Please don't misunderstand me. I in no way mean this in a sacrilegious manner.

You have to admit, in all of life there is irony. And no good deed, even one performed for the dead, goes unpunished. (Aka. I'm cursed.)

It's just that, how is it possible that as soon as I am ready to enter the water, they decide to change the brother who is doing the baptizing from a six-foot giant to a four-foot midget?...

And why does he insist on plunging me into the water at 400 m.p.h.? As if chlorine in my eyes wasn't bad enough... Bloodshot isn't even a good enough description.

And how is it that the women baptized before me believe that they must take an extensive shower when A. there is no soap, B. the water it frigid and C. it's less than a trickle?

And why is it that mascara never comes completely off with hand soap, no matter how hard you rub? In fact, rubbing makes it a gajillion times worse.

But most importantly, how do I ALWAYS choose the one locker that is ALWAYS occupied as soon as I need it?

So there I stand, barely decent, hair in a knot, mascara running down my face, with demon eyes, shivering in the locker room.

Happy I've helped someone do something they couldn't do for themself, but in constant wonder at the strange puzzlement that is my life.