Finding Home at Edgehill
Sometimes, the home you’re looking for finds you before you even know you need it.
August of 2024 marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. It was just in May when I found out I would be packing my entire life into cardboard boxes and heading to Nashville to attend Vanderbilt University. I would be lying if I said that in the midst of all the excitement of starting at my dream school, I didn’t feel twinges of nervousness. The idea of starting over in a new place, leaving behind the comfort of family and friends in pursuit of a new community, is as equally thrilling as it is daunting.
Sindur Patel outside of Edgehill UMC with her family and Rev. Eric Mayle
While searching for churches in Nashville, I came across Edgehill United Methodist Church and noticed they offered volunteer opportunities. That’s how I found myself at their summer camp for children. The moment I stepped through the door, I was greeted by the sound of laughter and the warmth of little hands every morning. The kids wasted no time pulling me into games, showing me their art projects, and asking endless questions.
We spent our days reading books aloud, diving into new stories, and working through math problems, all in an effort to sharpen their skills before the school year began. We played tag under the summer sun and shared moments that reminded me how much joy there is in simply being present.
Over time, I watched the children grow, not just academically, but in confidence. A boy who once hesitated to read aloud was soon volunteering to share a story with the group. A girl who used to shrink away from math problems began to approach them with curiosity and excitement. Day by day, their trust in me deepened. They became comfortable enough to ask questions, to share about their lives, and even to run up and greet me with hugs when I arrived. Those moments of connection, small but powerful, taught me that showing up consistently can change the way a child sees themselves.
Those weeks at camp planted a seed in my heart.
Before long, I began attending Sunday services. The sanctuary quickly became a place of warmth and welcome where someone always remembered my name, where hugs were exchanged as freely as smiles, and where music and prayer seemed to weave us together into one family.
Wanting to know more about the church, I joined the Tuesday night new member class. Each week, over dinner and conversation, I learned about the history of the United Methodist Church, the mission of Edgehill, and the personal faith journeys of those sitting beside me.
Edgehill’s summer membership class
Somewhere along the way, I realized that this was where I wanted to take the next step I had been considering for years: baptism.
In the United Methodist tradition, baptism is both a personal act and, even more importantly, an act of God’s grace. It’s a moment when we say “yes” to God. But more profoundly, it is when God says, “I am here for you, and I always have been.” In baptism, God is the doer. The water is a sign of God’s forgiveness, a visible reminder that our sins are washed away and that we are welcomed fully into God’s family. It’s not about earning God’s love, but about receiving the grace that has been freely offered to us all along.
The day of my baptism is something I’ll always remember. My friends Savannah and Eden stood right beside me, smiling and supporting me the whole way. I hadn’t told my family I was getting baptized. I wanted it to be something I decided for myself, in my own time. They were at the service that morning, and when they realized what was happening, they were surprised, but in the best way. Afterward, they told me how proud they were and how happy they were to see me take this step on my own.
Sindur's August 10 baptism
After the service, so many people came up to congratulate me. The hugs, the smiles, the kind words. It all meant more than I can put into words. I felt so loved and supported in that moment.
That morning, I also got to be part of the communion circle, holding hands as the bread and juice were passed around. I even joined in a spontaneous liturgical dance as we celebrated together. Being welcomed into that moment—not just watching from the side but truly a part of it—was such a blessing.
Now, every Sunday feels like a homecoming. During communion, I join hands with someone – sometimes a familiar friend, sometimes someone new – and in that moment, I feel the strength of this community. We share stories from the week, celebrate joys, and walk alongside each other through challenges.
Looking ahead, I’m excited to deepen my involvement. This September, I’ll begin volunteering with the Brighter Days after school tutoring program, interviewing church members through NOAH, and working to bring more neighborhood kids to Sunday services so they can feel the same welcome I did.