I remember the day well. I wore a homemade dress—gold on the bottom, black and gold plaid on the top. I felt such a sense of relief as I walked down to the river to be baptized, knowing I would walk back out with my sins forgiven. I wondered what it would "feel" like to have God's spirit in me. That was 50 years ago — June 22, 1967.
I have a friend who has a habit of saying a certain phrase almost every time she prays publicly. It goes something like this: "Father God, I thank you that you stoop down to help me." Or, she might say." I thank you that you bend down to pay attention to me."