22.02.2026
In response to Alice DeForest word prompt:
https://wp.me/s9Zf6z-baptism
I was baptised in a Greek Orthodox Church
when I was six months old.
Not a sprinkle.
I was dipped fully into the water —
immersed,
lifted,
marked in a way I cannot remember
but somehow still carry.
Prayers were spoken in the language of my ancestors.
A name was given to me that day —
one rooted in heritage and history.
That name stays sacred.
When we moved from the UK to Norway
and I was five years old,
the priest there said
I did not need to be baptised again.
One immersion was enough.
My brothers were baptised
in the Norwegian church.
Same family.
Different rituals.
Different expressions of belonging.
Baptism is often described as rebirth.
But perhaps it is also about identity —
about being carried between cultures,
between countries,
between languages.
I was immersed once in water.
But life has immersed me many times since.
And each time,
I have surfaced
still myself.
— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫
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