George the Baptist

My time in India has been so spiritually strengthening; I never could have predicted how all of these experiences would affect every aspect of my life and change it so quickly. People come to India all the time in search of spirituality, to attain enlightenment, to find religion. I never could have foreseen how much I would grow in one that I already called my own.

As I prepare to leave here and everything I have known as home and family for the better part of this year, I decided it was time to officiate my dedication. Yesterday I seized the opportunity to be baptised during a youth retreat at Bangalore Telugu Baptist Church by [Pastor] George, who has been my mentor, teacher, and (sometimes irritating) parental figure these last four months. I was honored to be able to state my commitment to my faith in the place where I really learned about it and embraced it, surrounded by the people who taught me how to use it.

As I waded into the tank filled with murky water and dead bugs (I thought for sure it was a well), I looked up and saw myself surrounded by supportive faces -- some I knew, many I did not -- who were so happy to have me there, joining them in spirit and extending my life through this commitment. As they sang loudly, in a language in which I can still only make out a few words, I felt their love surround me, especially that of the Fernandes', Uncle Ben, Sabita, and my 'sister' Nina, who have become my surrogate family.

After the baptism (also baptised were a husband and wife, new members of George's church) I was ushered into a shed with several women and girls, stripped and dressed in my saree, covered in bangles and gold jewelry, and sent back into the church to be prayed for at the altar. This morning we attended George's church to receive my Holy Communion as a freshly baptised girl. Nina and I spoke a few words of goodbye to his congregation and his family as it will be the last time we see them (for now....)

Nina and I with George and Jyothi

Our days are turning into moments. We leave New Hope tomorrow and say our goodbyes as the kids head off for their first day of school. It is something I have been dreading; leaving these children is going to be heart wrenching. From here we will make a long drive with George and his friend up to Bhadrachalam to inaugurate his newest children's home, a thatched-roof hut in a tribal area. A few days later we will have to say our farewells to George before we head off on our own.

As we begin to pack our things, Nina and I question whether we should go at all. How many times will we cry before we walk out the door? The kids have begun to dread the goodbyes too, walking around with long faces and asking us not to go. Nakshathra has had a particularly rough week. We have had her since the beginning, and she has become very special to us. She is the only girl with no parents, and stayed with us alone through the summer vacation while everyone else went home. Her heart is broken and fragile and I worry about leaving her feeling abandoned. Just this afternoon while Nina and I packed listening to Brett Dennen's latest album (the album that we all danced and sang to religiously for the past few months), Nakshathra walked in to see us and as soon as she heard the music she began to cry.

Tonight is our final dinner with all of the children at New Hope. There is no easy way to say goodbye to those you love, and this is going to be my hardest one yet.