Goya ... Oh, Boya!

Yesterday I became the proud Godmother of Madisyn, the gorgeous daughter of one of my bestest friends, Naisha. The ceremony was held at a Pentacostal church in Brooklyn. Naisha isn't a member of the church, her grandmother is, but she wanted her daughter baptized in a private ceremony, so she decided to have it there.

Before we arrived at the church, Naisha warned me, "This is a real Black church. I don't think you've seen one of these." And, she was right. People were shivering, people were shaking, tears were being shed. It was deep. Definitely won't find that at the local Catholic church in my neighborhood. God forbid you clap at something the priest said, Sister Mary Ellen will have you escorted out in a heartbeat.

Any who, the ceremony was set to begin, and in the blink of an eye it was over. I think the whole thing took less than 10 minutes. But, those 10 minutes were chock full o' blog fodder, my friend.

For one, Madisyn was not trying to be held by the pastor. Uh-uh, she wanted her father and no one else. Then, it was blessing time. I was prepared to be blessed with holy water or annointing oil that had been blessed over. I was not prepared to be blessed with Goya olive oil, that was still in the Goya bottle. You read it correctly people ... it was still in the bottle. Humor me, and at least put it in a nice glass bottle. However, before my bangs became salad dressing, the pastor asked me if I was "saved." I said yes, but then I wondered ... what kind of reaction would I have gotten if I said no? I can see it now: People fainting, shivering, crying and olive oil all over the place.