A Mother's Love- A poem about today January 27, 2009

A Mother's Love

By Merita Bajraktari McCormack

I thought of my mother, as I missed her touch
I smiled, as she gently spoke on the phone
The usual, unique sentences, with a happy voice
Describing the joyful day of my birth at home:

"Daughter dear, it was a very harsh winter that one,
The first snow of the year, a meter above the ground,
But your birth brought us smiles and lots of warmth
I was the happiest mother carrying you around"

I swallowed the tears, as I heard the sweet words,
Was deeply touched by her happiness today
For I, her child and gift, one wintry day was born
And felt how my mother's love brightened my day !

All rights reserved...You may distribute this poem with the condition of citing the source and the author

Reflection on June 8 2018, laying wreaths in Washington DC

Sacred Heart of Jesus Offers Love and Mercy to all

By Merita B. McCormack

Washington DC

“On Friday, June 8, 2018, the Victims of Communism Memorial Foundation (VOC) will join with embassies, representatives of captive nations, and human rights organizations for the 11th annual Roll Call of Nations Wreath Laying Ceremony and Presentation of the Truman-Reagan Medal of Freedom at the Victims of Communism Memorial on Capitol Hill. Please join us for this special event.”

This was the invitation on the Victims of Communism foundation webpage. I gather some people read this site daily, some people perhaps don’t even know that this webpage or worse even, that this institution exists. But as with the mustard seed turning into a large tree, the Bible’s parable so is with this event and the good work that this organization does. Its founder Mr. Lee Edwards, a visionary Christian man, got the desire to start such an organization after attending Mass one Sunday, and the rest is history. 

For many of us,  (that is Albanians of America), this organization is like a light shining into the darkness that has fallen and is not moving fast enough away. At least I speak for my family and my compatriots. Our parents are getting very old and many of their peers have died without seeing or testing  the real fruits of freedom. Many have gone without hearing the so much needed  “mea culpa”, a sincere one, from those who committed the crimes during the communist dictatorship. There is no healing yet. When the elderly Albanians, victims of communism, on this side of the pond hear about the Roll Call of Nations Wreath Laying Ceremony they often say to the young ones: 

“Can you go there, on my behalf? Can you lay there a flower for me, please?” 

And this is why the wreath layers are increasing and the ceremony gets longer and longer each year. Because it has a real and solemn meaning! We have a large group of Albanian –Americans, this time someone even travelled from Albania, someone who saw perhaps worse than anyone I know who is still alive. The people that gathered in DC were from many states across the US, to do pay their honors to the victims. Before I left for the ceremony I felt like someone whispered in my ear: “Go and pay respect to the fallen, weep for them, pray for their eternal peace and rejoice for them. They are the martyrs of freedom and democracy. And also, pray for the survivors that they heal. But pray a lot also for those who brought this tragedy upon the nations”. 

Reflecting upon that thought, it was very poignant I thought, that it was the Feast of Sacred Heart on Friday June 8th, 2018.  J

esus throughout the history has shown to the people His most Sacred Heart, showing it wounded, saying  “I love you, no matter what, but it hurts that you don’t love me”. We hurt God when we hurt others. All who laid the wreaths on this sacred day at this very important monument, erected to honour the memory of 100 million + people who died because of communism, have a chance to honour the fallen, but also to reflect how we , by allowing evil in our lives, hurt God by hurting others. Communist ideology did just that and in great numbers. What an offense to our Creator! 

And those with communist ties of the past or the present, laying wreaths on behalf of their nation being a diplomat perhaps, on this day have a chance to be showered with the grace and mercy of God if they let their hearts be touched by God and repent. He said: “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” Mt 11:28. We must remember there is no sin grater than the Mercy of God.  Thanking the VOC, lets invoke the saints to intercede on our behalf and also our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for his Mercy:

Saint “Mother” Teresa of Calcutta and Saint Faustina, pray for us! 

O Sacred Heart of Jesus, I trust in you! 

In the name of Love - Albanians in Arlington Diocese

In the Name of Love

Published first in "Dielli" Newspaper Dec 23, 2019

By Merita McCormack*/ Washington DC/

On Sunday December 22nd, the last Sunday of Advent, The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass was offered for the Victims of Earthquake in Albania.  It was held at the Sacred Heart of Mary Catholic Chapel at MaryMount University in Arlington Virginia. We are grateful to both Fr. Joe Rampino, its Chaplain and the Office of Multicultural Ministries, especially its Director, Miss. Bridget Wilson for facilitating the venue and for their love. 

 It was a large participation. Besides the Arlington Diocese Albanian Community, there were Albanians and Americans from our large community in Washington DC Metro Area. Top Albanian Diplomats in USA, both Ambassador of Albania H.E Floreta Luli Faber and her colleague, HE Vlora Citaku, Ambassador of Republic of Kosova in USA, attended the Mass. We are very thankful and grateful to both of them.  Joining the Mass was also Mrs. Alice Buttler Short, the founder and President of “Virginia Women for Trump”. 

Mrs. Buttler-Short is a friend of Albanians and our community is very grateful to her who came to pray to God for our nation. There were many American friends of the musicians but also a good mix of ourselves too. There were Albanians from Albania and also Albanians from Kosova, most notable among them Mr. Shaqir Salihu and Mr. Arsim Cejku. Heads of other ethnic communities in the Diocese of Arlington were also present.  In particular in style and number were those of the Slovak Community. This Mass was celebrated by Reverent Scott Sina, a priest of the Diocese of Arlington and a friend of Albanians. Ehsen Zajmi a very talented Violinist, who has played professionally for a decade in Albania and now in USA, Laura Boci a very talented High School student and violinist and Sabrina McCormack, the Mass Music Chair at her work, were our Mass musicians, whose talent was so beautifully used to accompany our prayers to Almighty God. Denis Guma was a lector and also his family were gift bearers. The McCormack young men, K. John and E. Arber served at the altar.

Fr. Sina, the presider, during his Homily, spoke fondly and lovingly of the situation in Albania but he also tied it to the many difficulties that people have suffered through out the centuries and that there is always Hope. He spoke so eloquently about the difficulties that Joseph, the husband of Mary and foster father of Jesus faced at the time of Mary’s pregnancy. Yet nothing is impossible with God so as we trust God and prepare our heart, we offer our difficulties and trials to our Lord, who out of Love for us became man, came to Earth, lived among people, was crucified, died and rose again so we all may have life in eternity.  We celebrate the birth event soon, at Christmas.  

After Mass there was the Chamber Music Concert performed by four talented classically trained Albanian American musicians. That concert was offered in honor of the Earthquake Victims as well and served also as a fundraiser. An Initiative called “Women to Women and Children”, was born out of desire of many Albanian Women in our area to help Albanians facing the earthquake related difficulties. The five women that spearheaded the effort are Valbona Qerimi, Keida Kostreci. Mirela McDonald, Genta Arvoas and Evi Struble. 

There is also an additional group of women, who work with these wonderful ladies and help with the efforts to fundraise and support. Thus, a significant of money has been raised to date, to serve this purpose. The four generous classically trained musicians that provided a pro bono beautiful chamber music concert are: Merzan Kostreci (piano) Frederik Spiro (viola), Enklejda Luzi Spiro (violin) and Kela Veshi (violin)

The Concert was an event of its own and started with Evi Struble, who was dressed in Albanian ethnic costume opening it and introducing the musicians and the program. She spoke of the initiative and welcomed Madam Ambassador of Albania in Washington DC to speak. Mrs. Floreta Luli Faber thanked the participants for being there and also expressed gratitude for all the efforts. She also spoke of the Albanian Government effort to alleviate the Earthquake caused pain. She spoke of the Albanian Embassy many efforts to raise awareness, to seek support and direct help as needed. The Artists performed a variety of music, from Limoz Dizdari to Moxart’s Quartet. At a certain point in the Program, Genta Arovas, made calls for donations and people responded generously. The organizers had taken care of details, the way they did the program, the way the presented, performed, explaining the cause and receiving the much-needed donations. After the Encore, Keida Kostreci, invited the people to stay tuned as such similar events are still coming and also to gather for a group photo. People socialized a little more and then everyone headed home wishing each other Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah since the congregants were of all faiths, including Albanian American Jewish. 

That concert was heavenly and there was a transcendent beauty that one cannot see but feels. Many commented afterwards and a lot of poetic messages were exchanged. I was struck by how Evi Struble spoke of the music and musicians. She spoke of the international language that they speak through music and how beautiful that is. We all want to be you-she said to the musicians. 

I totally concur with my friend, and yes, of course, in the presence of God, reverent performers and reverend spectators, it could not be different. Indeed, it was a unique event that will be remembered for years to come. A last detail to illustrate, it was so beautiful that at the end the encore performance, the “Lulebore” Albanian song lyrics, were sung by the congregation, thus accompanying the instrumentalists. Sorry if we got off key! But I bet, at that moment, there was not a single eye dry or any pair of lips unmoved. And one can’t help but think, how poignant that an Albanian song praising love as it ought, was closing the unforgettable evening at a place where the Love of God is constantly revealed. God has His beautiful way of drawing people to his heart! Merry Christmas to Christians, Happy Chanukah to our Jewish Friends and Happy New Year to all!

*The Author is VATRA Member and Co-Founder of Albanian Catholic Community in the Diocese of Arlington. She works in Washington DC Metro area 

On this Memorial Day 2020

For us , who are immigrants, integrating onto the life of the host country, includes getting to learn the history and as we weave our lives into the second homeland, we learn to be part of it and experience life as it happens in the new country.For Albanian Americans, Memorial Day is not just a holiday, it is a Remembrance Day that marks a significant part of the American history , which calls upon the individual and the society to reflect upon and draw lessons. While our inherent dignity and liberties are bestowed upon us by God, the nation is defended by men and women who want to give and serve and many have given their lives to do so, thus paying the ultimate price. We not only remember, respect and honor but we also participate in several ways. Whether laying a wreath, sharing a story, or offering prayers, we educate ourselves and our children, our communities too. We offer our thoughts and prayers for the fallen and we pledge to not forget. As a mother my heart goes to the mothers of the fallen, as a sister, too. And as such as an individual, I wish to offer my time and care to the families of the fallen. As a fellow citizen, I am sad for the loss, but grateful to them for the ultimate sacrifice which guaranteed our freedom. As Albanians we understand the meaning of the blood shed to defend the country. Being where East meets West , Albania has had its own large share of wars and attacks and loss of life. We share that grief, that anger and also that gratitude for the heroes who died for our freedom.This little reflection wont be complete though without t mentioning that during communism there was division and class warfare even after death. Not all the fallen in the World War Two were respected and honored as they are respected and honored here in the USA. Thus a reminder that while our heroes fight to defend our country, they also fight to defend what is noble and democratic, for the justice and liberty for all. May God rest the soul of the fallen and shine His perpetual Light upon them!

A little poem on December 5 2018

A little poem 

By Merita McCormack
December 5 , 2018

Oh irony of life ! 

Cage was the place the bird was born
In the cage it was raised
It sang and cried though from within
And one day the good master heard it
And said : "Who keeps this bird locked "?
Oh Irony of life ! 

And then the good master got the tools
Told the cage keeper a word or two
The cage keeper pretended to agree
And let the good master set the bird free

But little did the bird know
What was attached to his foot and wings
Thus the bird flew and the good master used his voice;
Showed it around and took pride on him
The bird chirped, sang , and one day
Was sad to see the master die. 

Then the cage keeper showed up
Smiling , holding hands with others like him,
And said to the bird with the smirk:
"It was just a game , little bird ,
We just wanted some time
To gather more birds
So we tracked you and others and now not only we want your talents
but we want also your meat "
And thus the cage keeper "mourned " the good master's death
While preparing for upcoming meal
Oh irony of life !
Oh poor bird indeed !

A Poem for my Grandmother

On her birthday---

She was petite and almost invisible,
just like the modern Saint
she was sweet but matter of fact,
just like any wise woman
she was quiet, but had a presence
just like some important beloved figure
she was not taught to read or write
yet she was our lead accountant
who always balanced the family books
she never had a fridge , yet her food never went bad
she saved it in cool places dug in the yard's dirt
she never went to culinary school
but her meals were most delicious
she never used measuring cups
but her handful was good enough
she never checked the temperature of baked stuff
she knew when it was done from its tenderness
her daily and on time meals always tasted delightful
she was the smallest woman whose husband was sick
yet she managed the whole household
like she had the help of many hercules
she never went to medical school
but the whole village thought her medicine healed
she never went to any fancy counseling school
but her much sought advice kept couples and families together
she never wore colorful clothing as she was in mourning
having lost a young son, a brother and soon enough her husband
but she displayed the radiant multiple colors in her being
she never showed her thick hair as the widows scarf covered it,
but she gave me the braided hair of her youth to treasure
she never knew of the Western culture
but the moment she met someone she knew the Truth
she gave strength to others like she was a fountain of it
and never got tired of hosting others, humbly and lovingly
she knew communism was evil but taught us to hold tight
to things that matter like family and ride the waves
she knew it was just politics
all temporary but family unity she said is everlasting in spirit
she was called Ane, Halle , Teze and Jengje in the village
but she was mostly our glue, our dearest Nena
whose name is now in my daughter's being
and I pray that my little one takes at least just a bit
after my beloved Nena, who was my first teacher, carer,
doctor, my beloved saintly grandmother
who always remains in my heart and mind
whose smile reminded me of the most beautiful flower.

She was born 103 years ago today and I miss her .
Nena I miss you!

Poem by Merita B. McCormack
25 August 2018

Certain about one thing, in Uncertain, Texas.

Certain of one thing, in the town of Uncertain, Texas!

By Merita B. McCormack

Leesburg, VA

Adding more passengers to our road trip to Texas , changed it all. We had previously settled for the generous offer to stay at someone’s house, but then figuring out three people were too many, we decided to look for accommodations the night before we set for the trip.

Having a daughter who is a “Martha Stewart” like organizer and who has a wide range of knowledge of beautiful places in the US  and also having a husband who loves nature, fishing, ducks and all that wildfowl stuff, we agreed that a place with a lake, between West Monroe, LA and Tyler, TX was ideal for our two days stay in the area.  West Monroe is where “Duck Dynasty” people are, a favourite family show which we have seen some times on TV, and Tyler was a place where a family member had to be for those days.

Thus rushing to book a place was not a problem, getting to book a place was a problem. The facility we choose “Caddo Lake Retreat House “ did not have an online booking, as we are so used to on the East Coast.  We also called but got no one answer, as it was after hours, so we sent an email, hoping some one would answer. We were to leave the next day in the afternoon.  So it happened, a very happy voice called me the next day and assured me we had the “Retreat house” as that weekend (Aug 20th) everybody was going to travel opposite to us, to see the solar eclipse and the place would not be full of tourists and also people, were going home from their holidays, starting school. It sounded like the place was quite busy! That gave me a lot of assurance. I was happy to hear that we had a place and gave her my credentials to charge my credit card. All was set; we got on the road and enjoyed the ride. We spent a night in Knoxville TN, a night in Little Rock, AR and then finally arrived in the friendly state of Texas.  I would add here that Tennessee was beautiful and we enjoyed the view through the Smokies. Before leaving TN, we stopped by a restaurant by the “Mud Island” on Mississippi river and then headed out to Arkansas, which was very different from TN. Open land, narrower roads, and not many trees, also very hot.  We saw many fields of rice, soya, and cotton plants. Wonderful, smiling friendly people at every stop we made. As we crossed the state border and unto Texas,  we noticed the lone star state "show off" itself at the border, like bridge colouring of red, white and blue,  clean and very visible state map  carvings on the bridge walls, signs which were inviting visitors etc.  Then we hit the real rural Texas, land, land, ranches, land and ranches again; here and there a cabin, a house, a farm, and open land again.  We missed the big cities and is not an intention to write about the big cities of Texas here.  As soon as we dropped the family member in Tyler we headed out to Caddo Lake. Our intention was to spend the night there and visit Duck Dynasty crowd the next day.  As soon as we started driving we realized we better get gas, as it seemed very rural and very open.  In about ninety minutes we arrived in the area of Caddo lake and first thing we saw, was this big sign which read:

“The Church of Uncertain welcomes you” . We had to smile at that. Latter on we saw a sign saying “Uncertain Inn”. Well we realized this was a town with a funny name and of many uncertain things. As we  were wondering how that name had come about  it was time for us to really look for the final destination for the night . We pulled in the last road, which to me was the “real” end of the world, as it had all dead ends  on most turns and it looked pretty empty, and to tell the truth, not very impressive from the structures of the dwellings, which looked like old RV-s transformed into homes to the unpaved roads, with trees that gave me the impression of wilderness and lots of dog barking around. A little shop , the only shop had a sign on the window, idicatiing that was the shop of everything from sadnwiches and pizzas to hardware. But that closed at everyday at 7pm. I was starving in fact and was terrified of lack of proper restaurants around.  I was hoping that our place would at least have some sort of cooling, as it was really hot and humid. The trees were tall and covered in Spanish moss, indicative of high humidity.  We drove further down the road and to the address of the email but could not see the name of the house we were supposed to be in.  I was kind of panicking a bit as we felt lost, was hungry  and may be we thought we were scammed. Finally we see the number of the house but did not match the name on the email address. Here on the not so flat drive way, stood a pick up truck and its driver just getting ready to go in the house. He looked at us and clearly was puzzled. We were more so. I even said: “Oh Gosh, where did we come”. The guy had the longest beard I had seen, an old hat, the most worn jeans on him,  a cigarette in his mouth and the pick up truck had plenty of black bags on it.  With a heavy southern accent he greeted us and said “Can I help you?" which to me sounded like he said who are you and what do you want here? At least that’s what I thought it felt like.  I immediately  showed to my husband the email text I had photographed earier fearing of loss of service  and  told him we were supposed to be spending two nights in the "retreat house". The long bearded guy said: “This ain’t it sir” and seeing us getting even more confused, he swiftly introduced himself saying: “By the way I am Red and I am the caretaker here but I don’t expect no one Sir. Let me call them” he added, refering to the owners.   

I tried to make a call on my one to the person I had spoken few days before, but no luck, no service there. Red joked at me he said “You must have ATT ma’m, and though you have a fancy phone (referring to my outdated Iphone), mine works better here, madam”,- pointing to his old  flip phone smiling.  I had no time to laugh as I was anxious to hear from the booking person who was unreachable at the moment.  Finally he got a hold of Shelley, the person I had spoken to. The more Red talked with her, mentioning additional money, the more I felt we had made the biggest mistake booking just like that. I heard Red saying the retreat house was not ready, and the Lodge (where we had parked) was supposed to host another group, which had not showed up yet. John and I looked at each other, and while I worried, John who has never judged anyone, was happy to admire the natural place. Our son was also happy to have finally arrived and assured me that the guy was normal and very friendly. I was on the other side, terrified. Finally, after some back and forth convo, we were offered “the lodge” for the same price.  The friendly woman on the phone had forgotten to tell Red about us and she apologized. Then we walked it and it was a beautiful surprise to see the house.  Red continued to talk and joke at us, telling scary stories of alligators and I apologized to him for my stiffness. He said Ma’am you have every right to be afraid, we are a swampy place with swamp monsters and I represent the Swamp Monster Show. I joked back and said you should be on the Duck Dynasty show. He was not much aware of it as he said every one is like those people here and that was the way of life there.

I began to relax and told Red :  "God put you here, as we were lost". He pulled the cigarette off his mouth, looked at me with his smiling eyes and said: “Ma’am, I think you are right. God is good”.  I added that guardian angels must have been looking after us. He said “ Ma'am; say it again?”  He had hard time understanding my accent. As soon as he got what I said, he again said: “Ma'am. Sure God put us together here, as I don’t know what would had become of ya’ll".  My husband and son took care of bags and I wanted to just rest.  But as soon as we went in and looked on the back porch, there was a beauty indescribable. Cypress River was out here below and cypress trees dressed with Spanish moss, Oak trees standing tall like they had stories to share, butterflies greeting us, birds chirping, fir, pine trees, ivy and all, saying welcome to the virgin nature. It was beyond beautiful it looked like God had put a slice of Heaven in front of me. I turned to Red and as I thanked him I asked where is the guest manual so I can know where to go to find food and Red told us it was all there, on top of dining table, two pieces of papers where it was handwritten all you need. And he then was our companion fro two days. I will not go into many details, as there is a lot, but will tell the ending of our 48 hours there.  We were seating out, once more, in the back porch talking about Caddo lake and its story and discussing the book we read those two days titled “Caddo was”  so impressed with his chatty nature and his brown eyes and red bird  I asked him:
"Red, what is your background, where is your family from?". 
,“I was born and baptized in Louisiana ma’am, but my father was Italian and my mom was German Irish.”- he answered.    I immediately thought Louisiana Catholic, but held my tongue.  He then told us stories of his Italian grandma pinching his and his sister’s cheeks when she wanted to praise and them and he had teary-eyed moments sharing those stories and saying he has no more family around.  And he sipped his drink and smoked his cigarette.  He was peaceful and nostalgic. It was a very touching moment. I thought to ask him one more detail, I said which part of Italy and what was his last name.  For some reason I always ask Italians if they are from Southern Italy, looking for the Arbresh connection. So I was digging for that.  He said well, I don’t know if you know the last name, but it is Forgionne and he said it exactly like Italians say it, and he continued:  "I can’t tell you for sure where we are from, but do you know of a man, of a Papa, Papa, Pio my dad called him". I froze and looked at John who was also curious. Then Red pulling his cigarette from the mouth, pointed towards his palms and his feet, signalling  for the wounds of Christ crucified. I could not believe what he was saying. John said : "Padre Pio?" He said:  "No,no,  papa, papa, Pio,  the old Catholic man".  John was continuing to say Padre Pio, and I said Francisco Forgionne? He said, yes, that one, the one who...." and he  was continuing to point on his palms and feet. 
"The priest with the stigmata?”- I asked  

“Yes, Ma’am, yes, the one who had bleeding hands” - he continued – “that one”. His name was in the paper here many years ago and my dad told me he is my cousin.  We had same last name and are cousins Ma'am".  

I could no longer wait and pulled out of my purse a Padre Pio Booklet of prayers and showed it to him. He, seeing the photo of Padre Pio, exclaimed:  "Yes Ma’am, it’s him, he looks just like my dad, it was this photo on the paper here, Ma’am, many years ago" (he was referring to Padre Pio’s Canonization story probably), and his eyes got teary again, saying over and over again: "Yes, it’s him, we have same last name, ma'am".

After that moment ,  I had to then share with him our Padre Pio  many stories and devotions  and we sat down for long time as Padre Pio is a spiritual grandfather to many, so he is very special to us, too. But meeting his relative there, in rural Texas, a  man, who was not raised catholic,  for whom,  at first I did not have the most charitable thoughts, and who was so genuine and real, so open and friendly, so modest and leading a simple life, was a different story. We talked for a long time and Red was happy to hear more about Padre Pio, and I saw the spark in his eyes becoming more visible and the joy in him very obvious. He was happy to accept the booklet which he promised to read  it through and through, was happy to look a the photos, very happy to hear that there are many relatives of Padre Pio in USA, and that one is a friend of mine. He felt reconnected to the family and we all felt and expressed that God was alive and present there and then. For some reason, though he was a Baptist, he brought up the sacraments of the Catholic Church and we spoke mostly on Confession.  The conversation went in to so much details and went fast and there was so much talk about holy subjects that we ourselves could not understand how.  It was a beautiful conversation. Afterwards we all were wondering about this all and we agreed that God’s CERTAIN LOVE had put us all  together for that time in Uncertain Texas

Since then Red has asked us almost daily to pray to Padre Pio for him. I told him, we will but it is us who need him to pray to Padre Pio, especially for me ,who judged his cousin so harsh! Afterall, Padre Pio will know who to hear first, his cousin of course! <3 Padre Pio, pray for us all!