Flow

Just in time for Ramadan, our youth team schedules begin to find some consistency. We all have now been settled into a family for at least a week which finally allows me an anticipated eating schedule. As much fun as it was to live with a young ministerial bachelor, the cupboard was naked. With a family of my own, you can call me Hansel because my host mother's cooking is fatting me up. It serves as a pleasant antithesis to my grumbling-stomach college days. But fear not dear friends and family, the scorch of Egyptian heat will melt off most all of the coat of calories I adorn.

Due to my lack of recent entries, please allow me to swiftly recount a few of the more memorable moments of the past week.

The Katsaros family (self included) is trying to teach the youngest, Markos (3), to ask politely when requesting. The other morning, I dawned just before all the children of the house and met them at the table for a delightful cereal breakfast. Markos has recently found his desire to test his independence, specifically by pouring his own bowl. So, naturally when he voiced his grunting 3 year old desire for the box of milk, as I began to hand it him, I drew from him the magic word and passed him his beverage. He drained all that he wanted, twisted the cap back on, and returned the drink cartridge to the table, as a sidekick to his bowl. As I, in turn, reached to return it to the center of the table, the milk was swiped from my grasp and I found myself faced with a prompting for a specific word. Dumbfounded and defensive, a flustered "Please, may I have the milk?" scattered from my lips. With the milk box back in my possession, all I knew to do was chuckle aloud to myself.


Being in the presence of young children again on a regular basis has reminded me the complexity involved in maintaining a family. This morning, I sat helpless as mama Despina and young Markos debated the importance of lunch before cake.

And I sit here now, Iasonas and Markos ebb and flow between a balance of power control. I recall a time when my younger sibling and I once battled for the same perceived kingdom. Living with a family reminds me of the ceaseless sacrifice required for survival. I know what it is like to commit to this type of environment but never before have I been allowed to be grafted into a physical family just to live. There have been times when I accidentally stumbled upon a friend's family while some testing child dangled a tippy toe over the consequence line, resulting in some kind of discipline action, however I would never dream of discussing such an experience with the parentals of a colleague. But here, I am family. Much of the time what happens is beyond my linguistic comprehension. My appreciation fills when I am included in the dissection of the situation. George and Despina have unknowingly served as gracious avenues for me to further my gratitude toward my own folks. I am now convinced that the reason people begin to lose their hearing has a direct correlation to the amount of children borne to them.

So, Mom, I apologize for any deafening wails I bellowed into your ear as a wee lad. Dad, any names I've ever gulped out in the frustration of a heated discourse, please accept my heart-wrenched apologies. When invited to view parenting from the side of what had previously felt like the enemy, I can now understand that it was strictly my protection you were pursuing. If I am even a part of the parent you are, I know God will be content to pick up all that I will miss.

I'd like to thank all the parents who care enough to discipline their children with love. Thank you.

Daddy in Heaven,
Thank you for your love blanketed over us. Please continue to grow me more into our likeness and open me to new perspectives of life I've never considered. Your are gracious beyond comprehension. Bless you, Daddy. Hear this prayer by the power given to us through the Holy Spirit, delivered by Jesus Christ, our risen Lord. Amen.