Father and father

So….here we are seated in the plane and the occupancy of the third seat in our row is bartered….then resolved. A tall striking lass slips in beside me and we prepare for take off.

The next three hours are full of her story and a little of ours. Magda has a Greek mum and Egyptian father. Her UK degree has been completed and she now plans a month of holiday at the family home in Greece before starting work in the Middle East.church1

I wonder how a marriage of mixed religions works and how do the children choose what to believe? Harmony and tolerance are mentioned and I recognise genuine love all round. So lovely to listen to a thoughtful voice from an emerging generation. This lass has chosen her father’s religion out of respect and because she believes we all have the same god. It is not the right time for a theological discussion but we do talk a little about our own family…including the values of marriage and love for children and grandchildren. Quiet beliefs coming from our love and respect for Father God, including shamelessly telling her why we come to Greece. Sometimes we can only sow tiny seeds.

We gulp and swallow as the pressure drops and the plane tips and inclines towards a gorgeous sun-dappled sea. I turn to this beautiful swan and bless her to have a wonderful life. Her dark Mediterranean eyes fill with tears and she lets them fall. ‘I am going to miss England’ she sighs.

Now, sitting on Rope Sole, moored in a favourite bay and guests of Magda’s troubled country-folk, we pray. That many will know for themselves the love of a Father who sent His Son and who sees all our mistakes, turning them to good if we will just let him.

I wonder if you will read this Magda and let me know how you are…even though I have changed your name!

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