Yesterday was the Sunday of the Prodigal Son on the Orthodox Calendar. It was also the first day I read the epistle at a Sunday Liturgy.
I have been, properly speaking, Orthodox for just under a month now. I was received into the Church in January after a very, very long period of exile from my native tradition and life as a refugee in the Orthodox world. There's been a lot of study (and an M.A.) and soul-searching along the way. But I'm home. I'm home as an adult. Committed by choice. And embraced in a way I've never truly felt before.
Even if over half of the yia-yias persist in thinking that I'm Romanian.
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