Koukla, November 2007-December 2008 & Stella October 2008 - July 2009
You BOTH will be missed. (updated July 6, 2009)
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
A Year of Hope
Reflections on a ThemeHow do we sum up a year full of incredible and even miraculous events in an effort to come up with one theme that would reflect the whole? I think I would have to honestly say that it wasn’t necessarily this year that brought me to the selection of this theme, but the years (and challenges) that proceeded 2008. Contemplating the words and or phrases that are part of the package, I would have to choose those that admittedly may seem over used, but are too often taken for granted: prayer, faith, repentance, forgiveness--all necessary in realizing the true nature of the word HOPE. Or is it hope that is the catalyst that drives the former? Nevertheless, I don’t believe one can coexist without the other.
It is our prayer this Christmas that through our Savior Jesus Christ we can keep HOPE alive as we face our individual challenges and those that lay ahead for our families, our nation, and even the world. Hope and all that it is comprised of, is what keeps us forging ahead with strength, courage, and integrity.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Chapter 3: The Escape
“…when the season of exhausting summer has finished, is the right time for men to sail. You will not wreck your ship, nor will the sea bring death to the sailors…At that time the winds are steady and the sea is harmless. Then free from care, trust the winds, and haul your swift ship to the sea...” --Hesiod
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
The Escape
Nuray had never felt such speed accompany her. Surely, she thought, Hermes himself must have taken possession of her feet. With the wind pushing from behind her, a sudden chill surged through her body. Numb, she was unable to determine whether the sensation was from fear, or the cold night air.
In the distance, Nuray saw a group of people on the beach. It must be Melek and her friends, she thought. She was grateful for their distance, and sure that they were too busy flirting to notice a dark figure in the distance.
Slipping behind a large bolder, Nuray reached deep into the sand for a small bag of personal belongings and food that she had buried earlier. She dusted the sand from the bag and fastened it to her, making certain that her arrow was still secure as well. Placing the bow across her body, she cautiously climbed the rocks down to the shore.
Melek’s father kept his fishing boat beached on the north shore. In a few short hours, he would be heading toward the beach to launch his vessel for the first catch of the day. Nuray’s imagination created the sensation of her uncle’s presence and his breath wafting down the back of her neck. She quickly looked over her shoulder to assure herself that it was nothing more than her fears. With her hands trembling, she quickly untied the rope and with a gentle push, the boat was set in motion. Nuray leaped aboard, steadied her balance, and collapsed with exhaustion as the watercraft began to drift out to sea.
*****************
“Nuray, awake!”
The first rays of the morning sun warmed Nuray’s face. Stretching to her full length, she slowly opened her eyes. Her muscles, stiff from sleeping on the rigid surface, reminded her of where she was and the events that had led to this moment. The ocean was glassy and the sun’s rays bounced off the surface, leaving blind spots in her vision.
Nuray untied her sash, removing the bag and arrow. Dried blood covered the head and lower shaft of the weapon. She shivered as the realization of what she had done began to enfold her. Dipping the arrow into the cool water, she swished it around. Tapping it against the side of the boat to shake off the excess water, Nuray felt droplets splash onto her face. She carefully placed the arrow on the bottom of the boat to dry.
She remembered the voice that had woken her. That was the same voice that called to me outside Hakan’s palace, she recalled. “Who are you?” she asked, searching in all directions. “Are you there?” There was no answer. Nuray could see that nothing but water surrounded her. She was alone, drifting.
Nuray reached for the oars and inserted them into the brackets on the sides of the boat. She positioned the boat away from the morning sun and stroked the water. She had drifted for hours and without a landmark of any kind, it was difficult to know how far from land she was.
Splash! Nuray searched in the direction of the sound, but all she could see were rings upon the surface of the water. She stopped rowing and waited. Splash! The fish were beginning to feed. On the boat, her uncle kept a hand-woven fishing net with a long wooden handle. Nuray reached for the net and slowly lowered it into the water. Extending it as far away from her body as the handle would reach, she dragged it slowly, in a back and forth motion, over and over again. Switching the net to the other side of the boat, she repeated her action.
Nuray felt movement. She quickly flicked her wrist to secure the capture, and lifted the net out of the water. She steadied the snare while the fish fought to escape. Placing the net on the bottom of the boat, it continued to fight within the trap until all energy had been expelled. Nuray retrieved a small rope from her bag and inserted it into the gill. Tying it to a cleat on the side of the boat, she slipped the fish into the water where it would stay fresh until she needed to eat her catch
Nuray pulled out a piece of flatbread from her bag and nibbled on it more for strength than out of hunger. It was important that she find land before dusk. She picked up the oars again.
Nuray was growing weary. Her arms were fatigued from rowing. The sun was now high in the sky and her lips were parched. She pulled the oars into the boat and allowed her shoulders and arms to drop. She felt them vibrating from exhaustion.
In her bag, she searched for a small jug and removed the cork. Being careful not to drink too much too quickly, she took small sips of the grape juice until she was saturated enough to feel the moisture soothe her throat and cool her stomach. Resting briefly, she lifted the jug to her lips again. As her head tilted back and her eyes began to lower, Nuray noticed land in the distance. Pulling her body erect, she felt a resurgence of energy. She capped the jug with the cork and placed it back into the bag.
Another ‘splash’, and then another. Nuray was startled by the whistling and cracking of a small group of dolphins circling her boat. Her father had often told her that dolphins were a good omen to fishermen and sailors. She was comforted by their appearance and felt reassured that she was heading in the right direction.
She inserted the oars back into their brackets and rowed with all her strength, going over and over in her mind the story that she had created about her life. She had to protect not only herself, but her family.
In the distance, Nuray saw a group of people on the beach. It must be Melek and her friends, she thought. She was grateful for their distance, and sure that they were too busy flirting to notice a dark figure in the distance.
Slipping behind a large bolder, Nuray reached deep into the sand for a small bag of personal belongings and food that she had buried earlier. She dusted the sand from the bag and fastened it to her, making certain that her arrow was still secure as well. Placing the bow across her body, she cautiously climbed the rocks down to the shore.
Melek’s father kept his fishing boat beached on the north shore. In a few short hours, he would be heading toward the beach to launch his vessel for the first catch of the day. Nuray’s imagination created the sensation of her uncle’s presence and his breath wafting down the back of her neck. She quickly looked over her shoulder to assure herself that it was nothing more than her fears. With her hands trembling, she quickly untied the rope and with a gentle push, the boat was set in motion. Nuray leaped aboard, steadied her balance, and collapsed with exhaustion as the watercraft began to drift out to sea.
*****************
“Nuray, awake!”
The first rays of the morning sun warmed Nuray’s face. Stretching to her full length, she slowly opened her eyes. Her muscles, stiff from sleeping on the rigid surface, reminded her of where she was and the events that had led to this moment. The ocean was glassy and the sun’s rays bounced off the surface, leaving blind spots in her vision.
Nuray untied her sash, removing the bag and arrow. Dried blood covered the head and lower shaft of the weapon. She shivered as the realization of what she had done began to enfold her. Dipping the arrow into the cool water, she swished it around. Tapping it against the side of the boat to shake off the excess water, Nuray felt droplets splash onto her face. She carefully placed the arrow on the bottom of the boat to dry.
She remembered the voice that had woken her. That was the same voice that called to me outside Hakan’s palace, she recalled. “Who are you?” she asked, searching in all directions. “Are you there?” There was no answer. Nuray could see that nothing but water surrounded her. She was alone, drifting.
Nuray reached for the oars and inserted them into the brackets on the sides of the boat. She positioned the boat away from the morning sun and stroked the water. She had drifted for hours and without a landmark of any kind, it was difficult to know how far from land she was.
Splash! Nuray searched in the direction of the sound, but all she could see were rings upon the surface of the water. She stopped rowing and waited. Splash! The fish were beginning to feed. On the boat, her uncle kept a hand-woven fishing net with a long wooden handle. Nuray reached for the net and slowly lowered it into the water. Extending it as far away from her body as the handle would reach, she dragged it slowly, in a back and forth motion, over and over again. Switching the net to the other side of the boat, she repeated her action.
Nuray felt movement. She quickly flicked her wrist to secure the capture, and lifted the net out of the water. She steadied the snare while the fish fought to escape. Placing the net on the bottom of the boat, it continued to fight within the trap until all energy had been expelled. Nuray retrieved a small rope from her bag and inserted it into the gill. Tying it to a cleat on the side of the boat, she slipped the fish into the water where it would stay fresh until she needed to eat her catch
Nuray pulled out a piece of flatbread from her bag and nibbled on it more for strength than out of hunger. It was important that she find land before dusk. She picked up the oars again.
Nuray was growing weary. Her arms were fatigued from rowing. The sun was now high in the sky and her lips were parched. She pulled the oars into the boat and allowed her shoulders and arms to drop. She felt them vibrating from exhaustion.
In her bag, she searched for a small jug and removed the cork. Being careful not to drink too much too quickly, she took small sips of the grape juice until she was saturated enough to feel the moisture soothe her throat and cool her stomach. Resting briefly, she lifted the jug to her lips again. As her head tilted back and her eyes began to lower, Nuray noticed land in the distance. Pulling her body erect, she felt a resurgence of energy. She capped the jug with the cork and placed it back into the bag.
Another ‘splash’, and then another. Nuray was startled by the whistling and cracking of a small group of dolphins circling her boat. Her father had often told her that dolphins were a good omen to fishermen and sailors. She was comforted by their appearance and felt reassured that she was heading in the right direction.
She inserted the oars back into their brackets and rowed with all her strength, going over and over in her mind the story that she had created about her life. She had to protect not only herself, but her family.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Chapter 2: The Hunt
I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold...Over the shadowy hills and windy peaks she draws her golden bow, rejoicing in the chases, and sends out grievous shafts. The tops of the high mountains tremble and the tangled wood echoes awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earthquakes and the sea also where fishes shoal. But the goddess with a bold heart turns every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is satisfied and has cheered her heart, this huntress who delights in arrows slackens her supple bow…she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads the dances, gracefully arrayed, while all they utter their heavenly voice… --Homer
Chapter 2
The Hunt
17 September, AD 251
Temple of Artemis
Nuray had patiently awaited the rotation of the moon, desiring the extra light and the fullness of its power to give her strength. Her legs felt weak, but her conviction more than compensated for them.
The marketplace hummed as the artisans and traders gathered the remainder of their goods together before heading home. The corner of the temple that her father’s canopy once occupied was now vacant.
Nuray wandered the grounds. She couldn’t tell if she actually felt her father’s presence, or if her memories lived so strongly inside her that she found herself living the moment in parallel times. She searched the grounds as though she would see her father’s spirit wandering among the crowd.
“Nuray,” a voice emerged from the crowd.
As Nuray turned toward the voice, she saw her cousin approaching. “Melek,” she called, waving her hand above her head, forcing a smile.
Please don’t bring your friends with you, Nuray thought. She wasn’t in the mood--not tonight. But Melek could not bare the thought of being alone. Like a succulent flower, she was always surrounded with her own little hive of bees.
“What are you doing at the temple? Why would you bring such pain and sorrow to yourself? You choose to spend the first full moon after your father’s death amongst the traders and artisan? Surely Hakan would have greater desires for you.”
Melek had a cutting tongue. In spite of their relationship, Nuray always felt that Melek took such great delight at finding just the right moment to cut into her. She knew that Nuray would not retaliate. She was the daughter of her uncle, the kindest and most gentle man in the village. His brother, Melek’s father, was not so kind. The brother’s different character traits passed on to their children, had often managed to divide the cousins.
The group giggled at Nuray’s expense, but she held her tongue. She knew it wouldn’t do any good to say anything. Melek would always come back with something more hurtful. Nuray had always thought that Melek and her friends were childish and to encourage their taunting would be meaningless--especially tonight.
Nuray folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her upper arms. “I’m a bit cold, Melek, so if you’ll excuse me….”
The group of girls ceased their laughter and immediately formed a barrier in front of Nuray. Their gaze fixed on Nuray’s as if their eyes alone could keep her hostage.
“Why don’t you join us for a swim, Nuray?” Melek said, breaking the brief silence. “Rafik and his friends have invited us down to the beach for a moonlight swim.”
Melek’s eyes darted across her clan of bees and they all broke into an immediate smile, nodding and raising eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
“Maybe next time,” Nuray said, breaking through the wall of bodies. “I have to get home to help Mother get the young ones to bed.”
“Always the obedient child, Nuray. When will you ever learn to have fun?”
Melek and her friends ran playfully across the temple grounds toward Pamucak Beach. Nuray watched the girls until she was certain that they were far enough away to be interested in which direction she was heading.
This is my only chance, Nuray told herself. Hakan and I are to be married in seven days. I am running out of time. If I don’t make my move now, I will spend my life bound to a man I do not love. The moon has given me light and power, Artemis will give me strength, and father, your love will give me courage, and the wings to make my arrow fly.
Nuray followed the path through the trees to Hakan’s home where she had promised to meet him outside the garden wall. She knew that Hakan would not tell a soul of their improper arrangement. She trusted that he would be there waiting anxiously for her.
She paused briefly beside a large tree, listening for any sounds or indication that she was being followed. Below the tree that she had marked with the sign of an arrow, she quickly brushed aside debris that hid the handcrafted bow and arrow that her father had made for her. Slipping the bow across her shoulder, she cautiously proceeded up the path.
“Oh blessed moon!” Nuray whispered to herself, spotting Hakan hopping the garden wall. Standing motionless, she watched him carefully as he leaned his sturdy frame against the stones. Even from a distance, his strength frightened her enough to send a surge of adrenalin throughout her body.
She knew she must act quickly. The moonlight could also be a curse if it allowed Hakan to see her in the shadows.
Quietly and carefully, she removed the bow from her shoulder. She retrieved the arrow from her side where it had been bound by the sash around her waist. Remembering the many times she had watched her father prepare to shoot game, she placed the arrow between her index and second finger and skillfully brought the arrow and the bow together. Pulling back on the sinew of the bow to her ear, she waited patiently for Hakan to move into a position that would give her that perfect shot. Steady, she remained focused on her target.
Nuray watched Hakan pull his body into an upright position, away from the stone wall. Leaning over, he picked something up from off the ground and began to examine it in the moonlight. Nuray momentarily lost her focus as she struggled to see what had captured Hakan’s interest.
“Focus,” she heard a whisper. “You can’t afford to miss.”
At that moment, Hakan turned toward Nuray.
“Nuray?” he said, taking a step forward.
Quickly, Nuray returned her focus to her target, and with great power, the arrow left her hand speeding past her face.
She waited, listening for any sounds. Hakan’s body appeared to lay motionless. With her heart beating forcefully, Nuray apprehensively approached his body. His eyes were open; staring past her to a world beyond. Trembling, she put her hand to his face, waiting to see if she could feel his breath. There was nothing. Placing her head on his chest, she listened intently for the sound of his heart.
Silence sent a surge of fire through her veins. Bringing herself to her feet, she dropped her bow. Nuray placed her sandaled foot on Hakan’s chest, and with both hands, carefully pulled on the arrow with powerful strength. Turning on her heels, she ran swiftly back down the path toward the beach.
Chapter 2
The Hunt
17 September, AD 251
Temple of Artemis
Nuray had patiently awaited the rotation of the moon, desiring the extra light and the fullness of its power to give her strength. Her legs felt weak, but her conviction more than compensated for them.
The marketplace hummed as the artisans and traders gathered the remainder of their goods together before heading home. The corner of the temple that her father’s canopy once occupied was now vacant.
Nuray wandered the grounds. She couldn’t tell if she actually felt her father’s presence, or if her memories lived so strongly inside her that she found herself living the moment in parallel times. She searched the grounds as though she would see her father’s spirit wandering among the crowd.
“Nuray,” a voice emerged from the crowd.
As Nuray turned toward the voice, she saw her cousin approaching. “Melek,” she called, waving her hand above her head, forcing a smile.
Please don’t bring your friends with you, Nuray thought. She wasn’t in the mood--not tonight. But Melek could not bare the thought of being alone. Like a succulent flower, she was always surrounded with her own little hive of bees.
“What are you doing at the temple? Why would you bring such pain and sorrow to yourself? You choose to spend the first full moon after your father’s death amongst the traders and artisan? Surely Hakan would have greater desires for you.”
Melek had a cutting tongue. In spite of their relationship, Nuray always felt that Melek took such great delight at finding just the right moment to cut into her. She knew that Nuray would not retaliate. She was the daughter of her uncle, the kindest and most gentle man in the village. His brother, Melek’s father, was not so kind. The brother’s different character traits passed on to their children, had often managed to divide the cousins.
The group giggled at Nuray’s expense, but she held her tongue. She knew it wouldn’t do any good to say anything. Melek would always come back with something more hurtful. Nuray had always thought that Melek and her friends were childish and to encourage their taunting would be meaningless--especially tonight.
Nuray folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her upper arms. “I’m a bit cold, Melek, so if you’ll excuse me….”
The group of girls ceased their laughter and immediately formed a barrier in front of Nuray. Their gaze fixed on Nuray’s as if their eyes alone could keep her hostage.
“Why don’t you join us for a swim, Nuray?” Melek said, breaking the brief silence. “Rafik and his friends have invited us down to the beach for a moonlight swim.”
Melek’s eyes darted across her clan of bees and they all broke into an immediate smile, nodding and raising eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
“Maybe next time,” Nuray said, breaking through the wall of bodies. “I have to get home to help Mother get the young ones to bed.”
“Always the obedient child, Nuray. When will you ever learn to have fun?”
Melek and her friends ran playfully across the temple grounds toward Pamucak Beach. Nuray watched the girls until she was certain that they were far enough away to be interested in which direction she was heading.
This is my only chance, Nuray told herself. Hakan and I are to be married in seven days. I am running out of time. If I don’t make my move now, I will spend my life bound to a man I do not love. The moon has given me light and power, Artemis will give me strength, and father, your love will give me courage, and the wings to make my arrow fly.
Nuray followed the path through the trees to Hakan’s home where she had promised to meet him outside the garden wall. She knew that Hakan would not tell a soul of their improper arrangement. She trusted that he would be there waiting anxiously for her.
She paused briefly beside a large tree, listening for any sounds or indication that she was being followed. Below the tree that she had marked with the sign of an arrow, she quickly brushed aside debris that hid the handcrafted bow and arrow that her father had made for her. Slipping the bow across her shoulder, she cautiously proceeded up the path.
“Oh blessed moon!” Nuray whispered to herself, spotting Hakan hopping the garden wall. Standing motionless, she watched him carefully as he leaned his sturdy frame against the stones. Even from a distance, his strength frightened her enough to send a surge of adrenalin throughout her body.
She knew she must act quickly. The moonlight could also be a curse if it allowed Hakan to see her in the shadows.
Quietly and carefully, she removed the bow from her shoulder. She retrieved the arrow from her side where it had been bound by the sash around her waist. Remembering the many times she had watched her father prepare to shoot game, she placed the arrow between her index and second finger and skillfully brought the arrow and the bow together. Pulling back on the sinew of the bow to her ear, she waited patiently for Hakan to move into a position that would give her that perfect shot. Steady, she remained focused on her target.
Nuray watched Hakan pull his body into an upright position, away from the stone wall. Leaning over, he picked something up from off the ground and began to examine it in the moonlight. Nuray momentarily lost her focus as she struggled to see what had captured Hakan’s interest.
“Focus,” she heard a whisper. “You can’t afford to miss.”
At that moment, Hakan turned toward Nuray.
“Nuray?” he said, taking a step forward.
Quickly, Nuray returned her focus to her target, and with great power, the arrow left her hand speeding past her face.
She waited, listening for any sounds. Hakan’s body appeared to lay motionless. With her heart beating forcefully, Nuray apprehensively approached his body. His eyes were open; staring past her to a world beyond. Trembling, she put her hand to his face, waiting to see if she could feel his breath. There was nothing. Placing her head on his chest, she listened intently for the sound of his heart.
Silence sent a surge of fire through her veins. Bringing herself to her feet, she dropped her bow. Nuray placed her sandaled foot on Hakan’s chest, and with both hands, carefully pulled on the arrow with powerful strength. Turning on her heels, she ran swiftly back down the path toward the beach.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Missing you Babamou!
John Nick Damigos was born Ioannis Nikolaos Damigos on May 12, 1905 on the island of Psara, Greece. He died while passing through the Panama Canal on September 26, 1968. The devastation of that day will be forever etched in my memory. But more importantly, I will always remember the man that gave life to five very special little girls (Mary, Irene, Nicoletta, Marcella, and Angeline) who later grew up to be five strong, courageous, tender, passionate women.
Although number four of the five, I was the last of these women to conceive. Up to this point, my father's name had only been used as a middle name for three of his twelve grandchildren...Jacob, Christian and Mark. I was elated that my first miracle child would be blessed to have the name of my father bestowed upon him twenty-two years after his passing.
Dad died at 63, and somehow I knew when Irene discovered her cancer last year that she would also be leaving this earth at 63. Passing just three days following his date of birth and five after hers, I took comfort in knowing that she was looking forward to embracing him again after all these years.
So in memory of my father and the HUGE man that he was inspite of his small 5' 7" stature, I honor you, love you and celebrate the short time but ENORMOUS impact that you had on my life and on the life of all your posterity. God bless you Babamou!
(Photo of Irene kissing dad, abt 1959)
Although number four of the five, I was the last of these women to conceive. Up to this point, my father's name had only been used as a middle name for three of his twelve grandchildren...Jacob, Christian and Mark. I was elated that my first miracle child would be blessed to have the name of my father bestowed upon him twenty-two years after his passing.
Dad died at 63, and somehow I knew when Irene discovered her cancer last year that she would also be leaving this earth at 63. Passing just three days following his date of birth and five after hers, I took comfort in knowing that she was looking forward to embracing him again after all these years.
So in memory of my father and the HUGE man that he was inspite of his small 5' 7" stature, I honor you, love you and celebrate the short time but ENORMOUS impact that you had on my life and on the life of all your posterity. God bless you Babamou!
(Photo of Irene kissing dad, abt 1959)
Monday, September 22, 2008
I Left My Heart in Salt Lake City
John has been waiting for so long to finally leave for boot camp that it should not have been such a suprise when shortly after arriving at the hotel in SLC, he unexpectedly announced that he was checking in. "Goodbye," he said abruptly in a very matter-of-fact voice.As we hugged, kissed and I expressed my love to him I felt his emotions begin to surface in his voice and mine exploding from within. I pulled back and watched as Paul and Peter embraced him as well. Heather returned to his arms for a second round of goodbyes. I had to turn away and as I did, I literally felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. I struggled to breathe, the emotions were so deep. A steady stream of tears seemed to engulf my face as we walked in silence toward the foodcourt in the mall for some comfort...food!
Goodbye for now, John. I am so proud of you.
A Military Mother’s Prayer
Dear Lord,
Give me the greatness of heart to see the difference between a Mother’s love and Duty to Country. Give me understanding that I may know when duty calls them, they must go. Please give me a task to do each day to fill my thoughts when they’re away. And Lord, when they are in a foreign land, keep them safe in your loving hand. And Lord, when duty is in the field, please protect them and be their shield. Lord, when deployment is so long, please give me the support to remain strong. Amen
Author Unknown
Saturday, August 30, 2008
The Secret of the Five Crescent Daughters
(This is the first chapter of the book I started a few years ago. It is my desire to finish this book in the near future. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts.)
Muse, sing of Artemis, sister of the Far-shooter, the virgin who delights in arrows, who was fostered with Apollo. She waters her horses from Meles deep in reeds, and swiftly drives her all-golden chariot through Smyrna to vine-clad Claros where Apollo, god of the silver bow, sits waiting for the far-shooting goddess who delights in arrows.
And so hail to you, Artemis, in my song and to all goddesses as well. Of you first I sing and with you I begin…” Homer
Chapter 1
The Gift
Ephesus, (Turkey) Asia Minor
6 September, AD 251
Nuray stood on the shore of Pamucak Beach searching the moon for answers. The ocean breeze stirred her senses. She felt her long, dark, silken hair in a sensual dance with the loose folds of her tunic, leaving her strong, bronzed legs exposed. The waxing crescent moon reflecting in the waters below seemed eternally connected with the naturally curved shape of the shoreline.
It was the sixth of September. Nuray, now twenty, had always spent this day with her father on Pamucak Beach. She had looked forward to this special time alone with him. Mother spent the day at home preparing a special evening feast while her younger brothers and sisters searched for gifts to give to their sister on the anniversary of her birth. This year, she could do no more than reflect upon his memory, the deep love she had for her father and the counsel he would give her.
Nuray understood what was expected of her. Long ago, into the stars in the heavens were carved with fire, the traditions of her people. They were eternal. To break them, would bring shame and misfortune upon Nuray and her family. Yet power and wealth always seemed to over-ride tradition. She now found herself standing at a point of passage, where all roads would lead to shame and misfortune.
Nuray’s father had been a craftsman. With his death, his family was now destitute; his daughters, poor and without a dowry would by tradition, never marry. Nuray’s brothers, although very young, were expected to take over their father’s responsibility of providing for the family. Therefore, Nuray’s mother had no choice but to agree to the generous offer made by Hakan and his family. It was there only means for survival.
Hakan was of noble birth, his family among the wealthiest in Turkey. He was strong and large for a Turk. He was also strikingly handsome. But like the meaning of his name, he possessed a fiery personality that frightened Nuray. He was nothing like her father, the kind and gentle man that she had loved and worshipped as a child and learned to respect and admire as an adult.
Hakan had been obsessed with Nuray since their youth when he would watch her play near the Temple of Artemis where her father sold his goods. Because she was a peasant, Hakan knew that it could never be arranged for him to marry her. With her father’s death, he realized that Nuray’s mother could not refuse his offer. In exchange for Nuray’s hand, the family would be more than adequately provided for.
“Always remember Nuray,” her father said, “if you ever need anything, pray to the goddess Artemis. Like you my beloved child, she was born on the sixth. Your name Nuray, “white moon”, was given to you that you might always remember her and the blessings that I as a father gave to you on the day of your birth. Like the virgin goddess Artemis, I pray always that you will be pure, strong and independent, powerful and swift in the face of danger.”
“I will remember Father,” she said as she caressed the crescent hunter’s bow that he had crafted for her that summer. Tears filled her eyes as she recalled the words of her mother earlier that day: “Your father made this for you, Nuray. He wanted to surprise you with it on your birthday.” Together they embraced and wept for their loss.
Now as Nuray reflected upon her marriage to Hakan, it seemed so contrary to her father’s desires for her and the blessing he gave her at birth. How could she be submissive and weak when she had always been counseled to be independent and strong? How could she marry a man that caused her to fear and tremble when she looked into his eyes?
As she pressed the bow tightly to her breast, she became aware of her heart’s rapid pace. “I will, I will,” it seemed to repeat. A sense of power surged through her body. Looking down at the bow, she recalled that her mother explained that her father only had time to carve one arrow before his death. “He wanted to teach you how to use the arrow, Nuray,” her mother said, whipping the tears from her cheeks. “He wanted you to teach you to be a huntress.”
Nuray knew she had no skills, no experience. Yet, the desire to do what she felt must be done, overpowered her. It was her only way out. In her hour of desperation, with tears streaming down her cheeks, Nuray looked up at the crescent moon and prayed to the goddess Artemis.
“Oh goddess Artemis of Ephesus, I pray that my words will soar the heavens in search for your ears. I plead for your strength to assist me. A solitary arrow have I to do my deed. I have no training, nor strength to draw upon but yours. In the name of my deceased father, I beg you. Strong make my legs, swift make my arrow, that it may quickly pierce the heart of my enemy and free me and my family from this bondage.”
In spite of her tears, Nuray gathered strength from her father’s counsel and continued her plea:
“And may your maidens of the forest watch over and care for my dear, beloved family.”
And so hail to you, Artemis, in my song and to all goddesses as well. Of you first I sing and with you I begin…” Homer
Chapter 1
The Gift
Ephesus, (Turkey) Asia Minor
6 September, AD 251
Nuray stood on the shore of Pamucak Beach searching the moon for answers. The ocean breeze stirred her senses. She felt her long, dark, silken hair in a sensual dance with the loose folds of her tunic, leaving her strong, bronzed legs exposed. The waxing crescent moon reflecting in the waters below seemed eternally connected with the naturally curved shape of the shoreline.
It was the sixth of September. Nuray, now twenty, had always spent this day with her father on Pamucak Beach. She had looked forward to this special time alone with him. Mother spent the day at home preparing a special evening feast while her younger brothers and sisters searched for gifts to give to their sister on the anniversary of her birth. This year, she could do no more than reflect upon his memory, the deep love she had for her father and the counsel he would give her.
Nuray understood what was expected of her. Long ago, into the stars in the heavens were carved with fire, the traditions of her people. They were eternal. To break them, would bring shame and misfortune upon Nuray and her family. Yet power and wealth always seemed to over-ride tradition. She now found herself standing at a point of passage, where all roads would lead to shame and misfortune.
Nuray’s father had been a craftsman. With his death, his family was now destitute; his daughters, poor and without a dowry would by tradition, never marry. Nuray’s brothers, although very young, were expected to take over their father’s responsibility of providing for the family. Therefore, Nuray’s mother had no choice but to agree to the generous offer made by Hakan and his family. It was there only means for survival.
Hakan was of noble birth, his family among the wealthiest in Turkey. He was strong and large for a Turk. He was also strikingly handsome. But like the meaning of his name, he possessed a fiery personality that frightened Nuray. He was nothing like her father, the kind and gentle man that she had loved and worshipped as a child and learned to respect and admire as an adult.
Hakan had been obsessed with Nuray since their youth when he would watch her play near the Temple of Artemis where her father sold his goods. Because she was a peasant, Hakan knew that it could never be arranged for him to marry her. With her father’s death, he realized that Nuray’s mother could not refuse his offer. In exchange for Nuray’s hand, the family would be more than adequately provided for.
“Always remember Nuray,” her father said, “if you ever need anything, pray to the goddess Artemis. Like you my beloved child, she was born on the sixth. Your name Nuray, “white moon”, was given to you that you might always remember her and the blessings that I as a father gave to you on the day of your birth. Like the virgin goddess Artemis, I pray always that you will be pure, strong and independent, powerful and swift in the face of danger.”
“I will remember Father,” she said as she caressed the crescent hunter’s bow that he had crafted for her that summer. Tears filled her eyes as she recalled the words of her mother earlier that day: “Your father made this for you, Nuray. He wanted to surprise you with it on your birthday.” Together they embraced and wept for their loss.
Now as Nuray reflected upon her marriage to Hakan, it seemed so contrary to her father’s desires for her and the blessing he gave her at birth. How could she be submissive and weak when she had always been counseled to be independent and strong? How could she marry a man that caused her to fear and tremble when she looked into his eyes?
As she pressed the bow tightly to her breast, she became aware of her heart’s rapid pace. “I will, I will,” it seemed to repeat. A sense of power surged through her body. Looking down at the bow, she recalled that her mother explained that her father only had time to carve one arrow before his death. “He wanted to teach you how to use the arrow, Nuray,” her mother said, whipping the tears from her cheeks. “He wanted you to teach you to be a huntress.”
Nuray knew she had no skills, no experience. Yet, the desire to do what she felt must be done, overpowered her. It was her only way out. In her hour of desperation, with tears streaming down her cheeks, Nuray looked up at the crescent moon and prayed to the goddess Artemis.
“Oh goddess Artemis of Ephesus, I pray that my words will soar the heavens in search for your ears. I plead for your strength to assist me. A solitary arrow have I to do my deed. I have no training, nor strength to draw upon but yours. In the name of my deceased father, I beg you. Strong make my legs, swift make my arrow, that it may quickly pierce the heart of my enemy and free me and my family from this bondage.”
In spite of her tears, Nuray gathered strength from her father’s counsel and continued her plea:
“And may your maidens of the forest watch over and care for my dear, beloved family.”
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Irene's Passing
My heart is heavy, my body exhausted, my emotions are raw, my mind is cloudy but my spirit is beyond my comprehension. I can't believe that I have lost my sister Irene. It's very surreal...still! But I want to stay in this moment and absorb all these emotions, especially the spiritual ones.
When we realized that Irene's cancer was back, our family decided to fast and pray for "massive miracles", and we did fervently. Miracles began to unfold, but not in the way we imagined. Irene's health continued to decline and we all pressed forward in suport of her desires and decisions regarding treatment, helping in any way we could and being there at a moment's notice, when she asked. "I need my sisters," she said two days before her passing.
Mom suffered from cancer as well and died in 1998. Our family was blown apart. "The door was cracked and the adversary blew it wide open," a dear loved one explained. For nearly ten years, we have suffered as a sibling unit.
Mom suffered from cancer as well and died in 1998. Our family was blown apart. "The door was cracked and the adversary blew it wide open," a dear loved one explained. For nearly ten years, we have suffered as a sibling unit.
The night before Irene passed, I wrote a letter to Peter to be given to him at a special time during the trek that the young men and young women in our ward will experience this summer. I decided to share with him the things that I have learned about death, not knowing that she would be gone in just fifteen hours or so. I wrote:
"As a child, death frightened me. As you know, I didn't have the gospel in my life. I didn't know anything more than that there was a God and Jesus was the Christ. When my Dad died when I was sixteen (just a year older than you are now), I learned the importance of fathers and mothers and how each has a vital role in a family. I also learned that death heals."
"When Yia Yia (my mother) died, I learned about perspective. With all the contention and disagreements between the sisters, it was a very difficult time. But with time, I came to understand that each sister saw things from her own place and her own eyes...all were wrong and I suppose, all were right."
"As Irene suffers in her final days, I am still learning and the final lesson may not be known yet. What I do know is that it has brought healing to our family."
Irene's daughter Jeannette told me this morning that a spiritual healer (of sorts), told Irene a while back that she would be a "healer". Irene was perplexed, telling her daughter that she wasn't capable of doing that. But today, I believe we understand just what she meant. The miracles have been massive, as we have petitioned, but in His way. We have witnessed "healing", but not in the way we understood. Irene has been an instrument in the Lord's hands in bringing the Damigos sisters together and herein lies the lesson to be learned...the atonement heals. Thank you for your example of this great gift Irene and for planting seeds of greatness. May we learn to follow in your's and the Savior's footsteps that we too may find peace as I'm certain you have found it in your last days on this earth.
Now, your blessings await you, Irene. Your light will be greatly missed, but we know that you will be very busy doing the Lord's work and will be able to assist your family even greater from beyond the veil. Hug and kiss Mom and Dad for me. 'Till we meet again, my dear sister.
With love...Marcella
Passing of a Prophet
Thursday, February 07, 2008I have contemplated for several days now just what to write here, and I'm still at a loss as to what I can say that hasn't already been said. I echo so many of those sentiments. What can I say about a man that has touched so many? A man who has had a huge impact on my own life. For some, he's the only Prophet that they have known. I wept as I watched my own kids send text messages to their friends and schoolmates almost in disbelief that this 97 year old Prophet of God would be called home.
The youth showed continued reverence for this man of God by dressing in church clothes to school on Monday. As I slipped on my slacks that morning, I felt incredibly awkward. They (the youth) were an example to me, and I had to follow.
I watched on the news endless lines waiting for hours just to get a glimpse and pay respect to a man so loved. His humor, his kindness, his love, his wit, his optimism....touched so many hearts. Crowds of people lined the streets awaiting the funeral procession to the cemetery as though it were The Days of 47 Parade, waving their canes and their handkerchiefs. I was in tears as I watched! There has not been a man in my life that has been a greater example of the Savior's love and compassion than President Hickley.
At his funeral service, one line perhaps touched me the most. His counsel to President Eyring when he was working with the seminary program of the church was profound: Poking his chest with his index finger he said, "Why don't you do better at getting the gospel down into their hearts." He went on to explain that we can do this through our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and by consecrating all that we are, and all that we have.
God be with you (President Hinckley), till we meet again....
New Year's Eve--Almost!
Sunday, December 30, 2007
I'm sitting here not wanting to do much of anything else but listen to music and contemplate what 2008 may bring. On the sweet side of life, I rejoice with my nieces and nephews as they await the arrival of the birth of their next child...those we know about and those yet to come. I pray for Angela as she struggles with health issues and her first pregnancy. May angels attend you always. Congratualtions to Jake and Jill and their recent engagement. We are so excited for you all.
On the bitter-sweet side: John graduates in May and leaves the nest soon after --or at least that's his plan. That's more bitter than sweet for me. But a lot can happen in just a few months, so we shall see.
On the bitter end, trying to focus on the sweet where I can find it--For Irene we pray fervently as I learned yesterday that they found that cancer has spread to her bones. We wait to see what her options are and what her decision will be. We pray for the entire Reichner family. We know that you are strong, of great faith, but this will be a difficult journey. You are all such an incredible example to me that I don't know how I will be of support to you, but I'm here whatever happens. But I know Irene is at peace, whatever the Lord's will. She may be the first to be reunited with Mom & Dad and for that, I can't help but feel some comfort. I envy the reunion and the Greek picnic celebration (as Aunt Christine used to speak of), and yet I believe in miracles. I have experienced an abundance of them myself to be able to testify of their existance. Keep the faith.
So whatever 2008 may bring to us individually and collectively, may we hold fast to those principals and values that we have been taught and reach out to others that we might be one of the angels on this side of the veil. S'agapo!
I'm sitting here not wanting to do much of anything else but listen to music and contemplate what 2008 may bring. On the sweet side of life, I rejoice with my nieces and nephews as they await the arrival of the birth of their next child...those we know about and those yet to come. I pray for Angela as she struggles with health issues and her first pregnancy. May angels attend you always. Congratualtions to Jake and Jill and their recent engagement. We are so excited for you all.
On the bitter-sweet side: John graduates in May and leaves the nest soon after --or at least that's his plan. That's more bitter than sweet for me. But a lot can happen in just a few months, so we shall see.
On the bitter end, trying to focus on the sweet where I can find it--For Irene we pray fervently as I learned yesterday that they found that cancer has spread to her bones. We wait to see what her options are and what her decision will be. We pray for the entire Reichner family. We know that you are strong, of great faith, but this will be a difficult journey. You are all such an incredible example to me that I don't know how I will be of support to you, but I'm here whatever happens. But I know Irene is at peace, whatever the Lord's will. She may be the first to be reunited with Mom & Dad and for that, I can't help but feel some comfort. I envy the reunion and the Greek picnic celebration (as Aunt Christine used to speak of), and yet I believe in miracles. I have experienced an abundance of them myself to be able to testify of their existance. Keep the faith.
So whatever 2008 may bring to us individually and collectively, may we hold fast to those principals and values that we have been taught and reach out to others that we might be one of the angels on this side of the veil. S'agapo!
Merry Christmas to All!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
This has been an amazing Christmas of many wonderful highs and very painful lows, but I'm happy to report at this blog writing that we have finally experienced our first WHITE CHRISTMAS. Yipee!!!! It snowed late yesterday afternoon/early evening and a bit last night and with some snow already on the ground, it didn't take much to make our day quite merry and bright.
I love the spirit I have felt this Christmas, especially from family and friends. My heart is full...and yet, I feel great sadness with the tragic passing of the son of a former Fallbrook family, Chief Petty Officer Mark Carter and the unexpected death of singer-song writer Dan Folgelberg. I grieve with Tom and Cindy with the loss of their son and although I did not personally know Dan Fogelberg, his music has been a huge part of my life as my favorite male vocalist. My heart aches for the loss of both great men. I can't help but rejoice however, in the knowledge that Dan has been reunited with The Leader of the Band (his "pappa").
While we absolutely adore John's new girlfriend Heather, we also realize that we are seeing less and less of him as we share him with her family, especially on Sundays and during the holidays. This relationship makes for a great addition to the family when she's here, but a loneliness when they are both gone. We keep reassuring Peter that it won't be long before he too has a girlfriend (soon enough!) I don't know what I will do when both move on to adulthood.
So, as I wait for the potatoes to reach that tender point, I just want to take a minute to express my love to you all...friends and family alike. I am so grateful to have so many to include in those groups, but I also realize just how long it's been since I've been with my CA friends and family and I miss you all so much. I pray from the depths of my heart that your Christmas is also merry and bright and that the Heavens will pour down upon you and yours blessings of good health, love and peace. Have a great time in Greece Angie and a wonderful birthday celebration....Kronia Poula!
Kala Xristougenna, with love,
Marcie and family
This has been an amazing Christmas of many wonderful highs and very painful lows, but I'm happy to report at this blog writing that we have finally experienced our first WHITE CHRISTMAS. Yipee!!!! It snowed late yesterday afternoon/early evening and a bit last night and with some snow already on the ground, it didn't take much to make our day quite merry and bright.
I love the spirit I have felt this Christmas, especially from family and friends. My heart is full...and yet, I feel great sadness with the tragic passing of the son of a former Fallbrook family, Chief Petty Officer Mark Carter and the unexpected death of singer-song writer Dan Folgelberg. I grieve with Tom and Cindy with the loss of their son and although I did not personally know Dan Fogelberg, his music has been a huge part of my life as my favorite male vocalist. My heart aches for the loss of both great men. I can't help but rejoice however, in the knowledge that Dan has been reunited with The Leader of the Band (his "pappa").
While we absolutely adore John's new girlfriend Heather, we also realize that we are seeing less and less of him as we share him with her family, especially on Sundays and during the holidays. This relationship makes for a great addition to the family when she's here, but a loneliness when they are both gone. We keep reassuring Peter that it won't be long before he too has a girlfriend (soon enough!) I don't know what I will do when both move on to adulthood.
So, as I wait for the potatoes to reach that tender point, I just want to take a minute to express my love to you all...friends and family alike. I am so grateful to have so many to include in those groups, but I also realize just how long it's been since I've been with my CA friends and family and I miss you all so much. I pray from the depths of my heart that your Christmas is also merry and bright and that the Heavens will pour down upon you and yours blessings of good health, love and peace. Have a great time in Greece Angie and a wonderful birthday celebration....Kronia Poula!
Kala Xristougenna, with love,
Marcie and family
Thanksgiving Eve
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Honestly, I'm tired and would just like to go to sleep. The pecan pie is in the oven and the spinach for spanakopita on the stove cooking. Peter and his friends are in the family room watching 300 (edited version). John is with his new sweet friend Heather and "the guys". Families are calling their teens home earlier than usual tonight in preparation for the holiday. Paul is relaxing with Skylo in the bedroom and feeling taunted by the aromas rising from the kitchen.
With most of the homes in this neighborhood adorned with Christmas lights already, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on Thanksgiving before it is all too soon overlooked. Pause for a moment if you will, and really focus on what it must have been like for the Pilgrims. The sacrifices were great. Do we really think about them and honor their character and courage. There is much to be learned. They sat together and feasted in peace with the natives who taught them how to live off the land. I am thankful for their sacrifices and their examples.
I am thankful for my testimony for I know that God lives and that He has prophets on this earth even today. I love my Savior...he is my light, my strength and my loving brother and friend. My family makes this journey worth it, especially my miracle sons. My sisters help me feel connected to who I am and where I've come from. I honor my parents and the sacrifices they have made which are becoming more clear with age and experience.
I'm thankful for my Fallbrook friends and grateful that the fires were not worse. My thoughts and prayers continue to in their behalf. I'm touched by the shared e-mails and phone calls that I have received over the past few weeks.
My eyelids are dropping and I can't keep them open any longer. God bless you all with a peaceful, relaxing Thanksgiving. Take a moment to truly count your blessings.
Honestly, I'm tired and would just like to go to sleep. The pecan pie is in the oven and the spinach for spanakopita on the stove cooking. Peter and his friends are in the family room watching 300 (edited version). John is with his new sweet friend Heather and "the guys". Families are calling their teens home earlier than usual tonight in preparation for the holiday. Paul is relaxing with Skylo in the bedroom and feeling taunted by the aromas rising from the kitchen.
With most of the homes in this neighborhood adorned with Christmas lights already, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on Thanksgiving before it is all too soon overlooked. Pause for a moment if you will, and really focus on what it must have been like for the Pilgrims. The sacrifices were great. Do we really think about them and honor their character and courage. There is much to be learned. They sat together and feasted in peace with the natives who taught them how to live off the land. I am thankful for their sacrifices and their examples.
I am thankful for my testimony for I know that God lives and that He has prophets on this earth even today. I love my Savior...he is my light, my strength and my loving brother and friend. My family makes this journey worth it, especially my miracle sons. My sisters help me feel connected to who I am and where I've come from. I honor my parents and the sacrifices they have made which are becoming more clear with age and experience.
I'm thankful for my Fallbrook friends and grateful that the fires were not worse. My thoughts and prayers continue to in their behalf. I'm touched by the shared e-mails and phone calls that I have received over the past few weeks.
My eyelids are dropping and I can't keep them open any longer. God bless you all with a peaceful, relaxing Thanksgiving. Take a moment to truly count your blessings.
LASTS
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Last night I had the realization that we are experiencing the "lasts": the last birthday, the last holidays, and even the last months (September, October....) that John will be in high school and perhaps even living at home. As I pause to fill out the form to order his cap & gown for graduation, my thoughts go back to Mom.
Dad was gone but one year when I began this path that John is now on. I certainly can recall the turmoil that I was experiencing my senior year. But I now ponder what Mom's thoughts may have been. No longer was she a stay-at-home mom, but a woman torn between two worlds...raising her two remaining daughters and trying to make enough money to survive. I was the fourth to leave the nest. Was she used to it by now or just resigned to that fact of life? Another bittersweet experience.
With October well underway and my pink ribbon in tact on my sweater, my thoughts reflect on our mother. I don't think anyone can fully relate to the love and sacrifices that are a part of the woman we call "mother". Only when we find ourselves in her shoes years later can we truly understand or at least wonder, did you feel these same emotions Mom? Who was there for you to share your joy, concerns and ever fears with after Dad passed on. Now, I find myself a bit empty as I realize that I cannot share these emotions with her.
I'm grateful for the knowledge I have of where she is today--free from pain and suffering. Perhaps she is even dancing the zeibekiko with Dad at that great Greek picnic with Aunt Christine, Uncle George and all our Greek friends from Long Beach, clapping with encouragement.
Fall is a time of refelction as the seasons change......
Last night I had the realization that we are experiencing the "lasts": the last birthday, the last holidays, and even the last months (September, October....) that John will be in high school and perhaps even living at home. As I pause to fill out the form to order his cap & gown for graduation, my thoughts go back to Mom.
Dad was gone but one year when I began this path that John is now on. I certainly can recall the turmoil that I was experiencing my senior year. But I now ponder what Mom's thoughts may have been. No longer was she a stay-at-home mom, but a woman torn between two worlds...raising her two remaining daughters and trying to make enough money to survive. I was the fourth to leave the nest. Was she used to it by now or just resigned to that fact of life? Another bittersweet experience.
With October well underway and my pink ribbon in tact on my sweater, my thoughts reflect on our mother. I don't think anyone can fully relate to the love and sacrifices that are a part of the woman we call "mother". Only when we find ourselves in her shoes years later can we truly understand or at least wonder, did you feel these same emotions Mom? Who was there for you to share your joy, concerns and ever fears with after Dad passed on. Now, I find myself a bit empty as I realize that I cannot share these emotions with her.
I'm grateful for the knowledge I have of where she is today--free from pain and suffering. Perhaps she is even dancing the zeibekiko with Dad at that great Greek picnic with Aunt Christine, Uncle George and all our Greek friends from Long Beach, clapping with encouragement.
Fall is a time of refelction as the seasons change......
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