Tuesday, July 1, 2014



That’s the Hungarian word for graduation.  Last week, one of the families in the village invited me to attend their son’s preschool graduation.  A dozen other Görögszállás families and I made our way to Belegrad, the village next door, on bicycles. The kids had a quick program that was probably as smooth as any preschool program.  
After 9 months here I’m still picking up on all of the ways that people in Gorogszallas are related. The Gorogszallas kids had whole cheering sections for them with cousins, aunts, uncles, godparents, grandparents, great grandparents.
After the ceremony we made our way back to Gorogszallas—a 10 minute ride—where the family who invited me had prepared a feast for lunch. The mom apologized to me saying that she knew it probably wasn’t as good as what I eat at my host family’s house, but she hoped I would like it. It was amazing to see the happiness and celebration in this family’s home. Life is hard for them; the lows are pretty low and the highs are few and far between.  It was incredibly humbling to be invited to break bread and celebrate with them on one of their highs! 

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