Splish, splash: water joins me not only to my Catholic family but to a wider community of faith as well.

EVERY KID LIKES TO SPLASH IN PUDDLES, AND I WAS NO exception. But not kid to do it at church, and where I grew up, we Catholics had the only church in town where getting splashed counted as Christian devotion. It started, of course, when we walked into church, where the baptismal font full of water beckoned little fingers (and grown-up ones, too). My mom always made sure we got some of that water, handing off the holy drops from her fingertips if we neglected to bless ourselves on the way in.

But best of all was a "sprinkling Sunday," when, for whatever reason, the priest actually threw water at us. Even better was when Father Charlie, our shaggy-headed associate pastor, presided, since he always made sure to use plenty of water. He knew we kids appreciated a good water fight. In fact, we always thought a squirt gun would have worked better than that metal sprinkler-thing.

Growing up in the Bible Belt, those splashes of water always reminded me of my Catholic way of being Christian in a place where we Catholics were few and far between. That little bit of water on the way in and out told me that I was somehow special, even a little different.

As I grew up, I was taught about the tradition of blessing oneself with holy water, about how it was meant to remind us of our first church encounter with the wet stuff at our Baptism. I learned that for as long as anyone could remember Christians had carried holy water home to bless rooms and tables and beds and anything else that needed a drop or two of grace. Holy water was a reminder that there really was little difference between church and home, because God's grace accompanies us wherever we go. And it helped us remember that we are always sons and daughters of Mother Church, who blesses us with drops from her fingertips lest we forget whose children we are.

Of course it didn't take long for me to find out that my Baptist sisters and brothers also used water to baptize--usually a lot more than a dribble on a baby's head. My friend, baptized after she got saved at age 9, told me how her pastor dunked her in a big pool at her Baptism; another friend got baptized in Norris Lake. Boy, was I jealous.

When Catholic churches in our area started adding big fonts and pools for Baptisms, those more abundant waters began reminding me not only of being Catholic but of being Christian, too, joined to those Baptists and Pentecostals who went down to the Little Pigeon River on Easter Sunday to get baptized--often more than once--as well as those stodgier Episcopalian and Presbyterian types, who didn't think splashing was something one ought to do at church.

But it was only recently that those waters started meaning even more to me. On a trip with a friend to Turkey, our Muslim guide prepared to take us to Istanbul's Blue Mosque, one of the most magnificent places of prayer on earth. Since it was time for one of his five daily prayers, Hakan stopped just outside the mosque, where a long line of spigots and stools awaited would-be worshipers. Removing his shoes and socks and rolling up his sleeves, Hakan washed his feet and hands and head, explaining that Muslims purify themselves in this way before prayer.

As I watched Hakan make this act of faith, I couldn't help but think of the many times I had prepared myself for prayer with the water that washed me clean in Baptism. Here was another, not a Christian but no less a person of faith, who also needed and used water to remind himself of who he was before God: a Muslim.

BLESSING MYSELF WITH HOLY WATER IS STILL THE FIRST and last thing I do at church, and I still smile when Mass begins not with "Lord, have mercy" but with a good splash in the face. And that holy water still reminds me that I'm Catholic, that I love being Catholic. But it reminds me that, with Baptists and Episcopalians and Pentecostals, I'm a Christian, too. Even more, as Islam and Christianity struggle with how to respect and honor each other, that water--the source of life, the sign of my salvation in Christ--is also a sign to me of Hakan's Islamic faith. We both need that water to remind us of who we are: two believers, pilgrims on the journey to God.

BRYAN CONES, associate editor of U.S. CATHOLIC.