Lily pads on a lake in India

The Plunge

I plunged into darkness. Far above my head, light starred down through the surface of the water. As ever, I wondered if I’d return to it. As ever, I loved the water and feared the drowning.

I was never underwater in the months I lived in India, but I often felt I was: in deep over my head, plunged into darkness, swimming toward the light.

I plunged into India in a summer of record breaking heat, into a dusty marble veranda and the combination of a broken silence and communication I could not understand. Our God became like us to love us, and I find that as much as He is always making me like Him, He’s also making me like the ones He’s called me to love: I was over my head in the darkness of silence, wordlessly wandering, grasping for meaning. I experienced a glimpse of the deep waters they were under – lost to the significance of lips babbling, tongues tumbling unintelligible sound. So, by grace, I carved out meaning for them and for myself.

I plunged into Gallaudet in a summer of heat advisories, into a modern building with tall windows and the combination of a broken silence and communication I do not understand. Into a sphere devoid of language, I swim in gestures. I experience a glimpse of what it must be like to have someone take you by the hand and show you how to dance out language with your fingers and what it is to often understand little to none of it. I’m here learning, by grace, how to carve out a language for them and for myself.

I was never underwater in the weeks I lived in the Capital, but I often felt I was: in deep over my head, plunged into darkness, swimming toward the light.

Taking the plunge.

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