The days get shorter, the air gets colder, and I continue my everlasting search for the meaning of life.

Ever since Thursday, my throat has been afflicted with a persistant malady that greatly impairs my speaking. Otherwise, I feel perfectly fine -- in fact, even the throat doesn't hurt much most of the time -- but I sound terrible. It hasn't been helped by the frigid air outside. Such is the way of the season.

Despite my condition, I managed to make it into church this morning. Last night, I told myself that if I didn't feel like it for any reason -- cold, sleepiness, throat, whatever -- I would stay home and take it easy. But this morning, along with the rising sun and the refreshingly blue-again sky, I awoke at 08:30 sans alarm. And I wanted to go. So I did. (Though this time, I did burn fossil fuels instead of carbohydrates to get there amidst the snow and ice.)

Thus, my record of attending every Sunday service since September remains unbroken (whenever I've been in town, anyway). I have been contemplating adding my name to the official membership book. There is a part of me that is hesitant to take such a step, as it feels so "weighty". Am I ready to "be" a Unitarian Universalist? Whatever meaning that label may convey seems less relevant than the practical issue: Since August, I have regularly attended church services and functions, made use of the facilities, and gradually grown to consider the building and the people in it to be the closest thing I have to a spiritual home in meatspace.

Beyond that, a turning point came a couple weeks ago, when one of my gas station coworkers asked about my church. I'm generally hesitant to discuss religion in the workplace, but when somebody asks, and then keeps asking followup questions, what else is there to do? So it was that I found myself explaining a little bit about the UU philosophy, and what goes on at the church.

She said it sounded interesting; she and her husband -- each coming from differing religious backgrounds -- have been thinking about what to do about their children's religious education. So it was that I found myself saying that if they ever wanted to check it out, they would be welcome to come to any of the Sunday services.

After that little exchange, I found myself thinking, Well, here I am, virtually speaking on behalf of the church. Yet I'm not officially a member myself. Maybe it's time to become one.

Last Sunday, I thought about it, but decided I wasn't quite there yet. This week, my throat condition made me not want to do any more talking than necessary, plus I was still waffling about it. But now, I'm 99.9% certain that next Sunday I'll be ready. On Solstice. How fitting.

Today's service involved a naming ceremony; the first such event I've witnessed. It's another of those uniquely Unitarian traditions. When a baby is born to one of the members, they may opt to give it a naming ceremony in front of the congregation. I suppose it might qualify as a rough correlary to the way many churches baptize babies. But in many ways, it almost bore more resemblence to an exchange of wedding vows.

The baby's parents and siblings were invited up to the front, where the pastor proceeded to read some poetic words to commemorate the event of the birth. One bit I found interestingly enlightened. "Though this child may come from us, and be nurtured by us, she does not belong to us. She belongs to herself." A clause affirming the child's individuality and right to be her own person, right in the ceremony. I like it!

The part that resembled a wedding was when the pastor proceeded to ask each of the involved parties if they would nurture and care for the child, teaching it in the ways compassion, caring, and peace, etc etc etc. First the parents were asked, to which they would respond, "I will." Then the baby's older brother and sister did the same. Then he had all the children in the congregation and stand, and asked them if they would welcome the new child and care for it as one of their number, to which they responded in unison, "I will." Then the entire corgregation was invited to stand and make a similar gesture.

Finally, everyone read aloud the following words, printed in the bulletin:

Child of love, gift of life
We affirm your individuality, your worth, your dignity.
We commend to you the free and responsible search:
For truth, justice, compassion, and peace.
We promise you our care and guidance. We welcome you into our family.
We raise your name for all to hear:
[omitted]
May you bring your name honor. May your name give you pride.

To complete the ceremony, the pastor briefly took the baby from the parents, held it in his arms, and brushed its forehead and lips with a flower to complete the blessing.

How neat.

Well, there's more I could write about, but I need to head to work in a moment. I agreed to take a coworker's Sunday close today. (I made the arrangement before I knew I was going to be almost semi-sick.) So I shall attempt to straggle through another shift with a barely working voice. Should be interesting.