The Scent of God

The Scent of God is permeating my house and my child.

The Scent of God? You ask. Yes, I say.

The Lady got baptized on Sunday. I am aware that she is almost 14 months old and perhaps it would have been a little easier had she been a tiny infant sleeping in my arms, however, that isn't how it happened and she was a very curious toddler in a very pretty dress pointing out the hanging Jesus over the alter and meowing at the statue of Jesus with a lamb by the baptismal fount.

It turned out to be a very nice day and my brother and sister-in-law hosted a lovely little after party at their place, where the Lady had free reign and at one point ran around in nothing but her tights.

The problem is though, she still smells like the Scent of God. The overly fragrant mix of olive oil and perfume that was poured over her head. I will admit I have an overactive sense of smell, I can tell if my husband is wearing a different brand of deodorant and although I appreciate the scents on other people perfume makes me really allergic. More allergic then red wine. I can't stand walking through the entrance to department stores and have been known to hold my breath in a desperate attempt to dodge the overzealous spritzers.

So not only did I have an oily headed toddler running around on Sunday reeking of what I can only describe as "college" and my 19 year old brother as "a head shop," but the scent has lingered on. Obviously she has been bathed, and the diluted woodsy smell emanating off the top of her is quite tolerable now and smells nice. However, every time I enter her room I am hit with the Scent again. It is on her blankets, Jerry and Moonie and her car seat. With the cold weather hitting us hard this week, every time the heat goes on in the house or the car, I am surrounded.

Maybe this is God's way of telling me that he is indeed everywhere or maybe it is time for me to wash the sheets.