A year ago, I was sitting in my hometown’s neighborhood diner when I received a text from my friend Matt. We had known of each other since grade school, but we became friends in high school, along with Matt’s wife, Amber. A couple weeks prior to the text, Matt and Amber had welcomed their second child, Lilly, into the world.

“Hey Cassie, are you doing anything August 30?”

“What’s up?”

“August 30 is a Sunday, and Lilly’s baptism. Amber and I were wondering if you would be her godmother!”

I was shocked in the best possible way. I was sitting on a drab chair in diner, looking a fright after a session at the gym, but inside I was shrieking like I’d won the lottery.

What to expect when you’re expecting to be a godparent

When I was very little, maybe five or six, I had a rather absurd fantasy. Other little girls want to be ballerinas or veterinarians, but at that time, when I might have been expected to say that I wanted to be a fairy princess, I wanted to be a fairy godmother. I don’t know if it was from watching "Cinderella" a few dozen times too much, or the prospect of swanning about on wings and the gift of conjuring whatever I pleased, but I really liked the idea.

I had all but forgotten that childhood wish until Amber told Matt, “Hey you know who we should ask to be godmother? Cassie!”

Having the honor of being a godparent is thrilling for various reasons. You realize the enormity of the request quickly, especially if you aren’t already a family member — being a godparent entails being involved in a child’s spiritual upbringing. It means remembering birthdays and baptismal anniversaries. It means knowing that even if you don’t have children of your own, interact with children regularly or have very young siblings, there is still one child out there to whom you are a potential role model. You are asked to be a strong, positive constant in that child’s life.

During the baptismal ceremony, standing next to the large stone font of holy water in my childhood church, the priest asked me if I was prepared to help Lilly’s parents in rearing and guiding her. I said "yes."

Later, when all the family had gathered back at Matt and Amber’s house for lunch, I was reminded that as godmother, I had a document to sign. It was a paper that will be given to Lilly when she turns 18, with the date of her baptism and the signatures of all the loved ones who showed up to celebrate her day. She’ll look at my signature in the space underneath the word ‘Godmother.’

Maybe it was the reality of seeing my name on a document, but at that moment I realized how much I wanted to be a good godmother and stay in her life. I realized how much I didn’t want her to be 18 and look at that paper and say, “Oh yeah, I have a godmother. I haven’t seen her in years.”

I don’t live in my hometown anymore. Lilly has wonderful, adoring relatives on both sides of her family. I definitely don’t feel qualified to instruct her on the intricacies of theology and religious devotion. But even though I’m not often physically present, and even though Lilly isn’t starving for devoted adults in her life, I like to think I can make an impact. In a way, Lilly’s doing me a favor: I think she’ll make me a better person, knowing there’s a little girl out there looking up to me.

Plus, I now have a kid I can brag about and shove her cute pictures into the face of anyone who will listen.