May 5, 2021

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 onefrom 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! 

Nov 25, 2020

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 

May 25, 2020

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!

Dec 5, 2018

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 !

Aug 26, 2018

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

Aug 28, 2017

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! 

Aug 29, 2015

Bumps and Rough Road Ahead!


In  early July, this year, we were notified as a neighborhood that parking on the roadside in front of our homes, would not be permitted in early August. The  State authority on the Road Maintenance was letting us know way in advance  on what was about to happen. They were repaving our roads! Yeay!  We were happy! We started looking around, planned, tried to fit all cars in the driveway  and finally figured that out well. We were happy to be all panned and ready to see the road paved! After all,  it had now been a while that our little neighborhood's road was scraped, washed and paved. We were expecting visitors in the third week of the August and we could not wait to  have them, share with them our home and why not brag a  bit on how cute and quiet  this neighborhood is and how peaceful is and also how smooth our (soon to be paved ) road is.

Well as time passed, and as with any government project, it took a while.

Our guests came and went , only to see and experience the badly shaped road, which had been scraped by then. They were all stopped and detoured, went through all the cones, all unmarked pavements and all the working signs. They did not mind it,  it seemed, and we pretended to be okay with it,  though I wished it had been a smoother road for them.

After they had gone , every day I drove around our neighborhood, I could not help but experience the impatience, the inconvenience, the effects of the bumps, the uneven roads and the long wait of "stop"- "slow" signs. I always felt bad that our guests whom we  had not seen for more than ten years had to experience that as well. I felt pain, a bit of anger, impatience and of course my vanity was having a feast. As I tried to rid myself off these feelings, I decided to add a prayer so I could  shorten my chain of  my inner complaints about the scrapped roads , the bumps, the delays, the inconvenience, the impatience associated with it. It then occurred to me that the road would not be well paved afterwards if it didn't go through all this "cleansing" process.  It needed the signs, the scrapping, the washing, the sealing....

And then I thought about the  soul, our human soul. Our soul goes through the same process too. All those bumps that we encounter in our spiritual life,  are to slow us down to make us consider the road ahead of us. All of those "stop" and "slow" signs  in our life are to remind us to navigate carefully in what we do and how we do it.  All that scraping and the discomfort that comes with it, is the  examination of conscience and the anxiety in the long line at confession. All that uncomfortable shaking  during a rough road is like our lifelong sacrifices. And our visitors witnessing our messy road  but our cheerful home it is the perfect symbol of friends seeing you when you are at your lowest point, because it is in "when I am weak that I am strong "(ct from 2 Cor. 12)

Finally our road was paved and it is a pleasure  now to drive....

That I thought in the spiritual life is  like the grace we receive as a reward of all those sacrifices, all those bumps and detours, all those moments of feeling bad and  especially the grace  we receive after a good confession. It is indeed powerful and beautiful, we become brand new, just like my neighborhood road, it is brand new !

So any time we see "Stop", "Bump", " Rough Road Ahead" "Slow down"
Let us not forget:

"Newly Paved Road",  "Reconciliation and Grace" is  also waiting ahead of us if we navigate those other signs correctly and patiently.

By Merita B. McCormack
August 29, 2015
Merita



Aug 26, 2015

Blessed Mother Teresa- The Catholic Nun of Albanian blood

Five years ago to this day, though the house we were moving in was not ready,  we decided to spent that night at this new home for us. We were tired of traveling and moving stuff and since we  had just installed the new phone line, we thought we would be okay to stay here.

My husband and I, both wanted  to use the new phone  to call call our  parents and  share the news. But we decided to have some coffee first and were sitting down enjoying the children playing with each other in the back yard

The week before that  day there were many issues we were facing  with and among other prayers, one I chose, there  was the one which I  kind of made myself, asking  Bl.Mother Teresa to intercede for us. The words were all in Albanian,  and in a way I felt like I was pestering my own granny  for a favor which I thought we needed  to be  given.....

It was that evening of August 26,  and  while in the morning I knew, by evening I was almost  forgetting that it was Bl.Mother Teresa birthday.....I was  very busy right...?!!

As we sat down to sip that first coffee in the new house , to our surprise the phone rang and I picked it up.

The accent of the man's voice was clearly Indian. I was wondering who that might be...

In a very gentle voice he said: "Hello  Merita,  this is a phone call from the Catholic ......(he mentioned the organization name)  in India. We wanted to thank you for your help (I have never donated anything to  that organization) and we wanted to say : Enjoy your evening with your family and have a good time throughout the year!"

My jaw dropped , as I recalled my prayer and that on that day it was what would had been Mother Teresa 's Centennial birthday.  I also recalled that I had prayed and had asked Mother Teresa to help us....  Call it coincidence or  call it God's wink :-) , call it whatever you may like, but to me, it was very unique and meaningful! Still to this day is and will remain so.

 I will definitely not forget the gift we received on the first night of our new house
oh, and by the way...those prayers were answered , too :-)   ...

Let us never forget to ask our saints in heaven....they are there to help and aid us....Let us never be afraid to ask for the their intercession...and if we have some one close to our hearts, like we Albanians are so fortunate to have Blessed Mother Teresa, let us double those requests to them. Just ask.....She , like many others,  after all,  is a close friend and beloved child of God,  as she really took care of  Jesus' many wounds.
Blessed Mother Teresa,  our saint and beloved sister in blood, as we  gratefully remember you today, we  invoke your name and ask you  to please pray for the Albanians  and for the  people of the whole world! Amen!

Sep 18, 2014

The joys and the sorrows of a Papal Visit to an (almost) forgotten country.


By Merita McCormack*

Soon we will experience the event of the year--if not the century--for Albanians all over the world. For more than twenty years, the Albanian nation seems to have been in the hearts and minds of the Popes. It is amazing that two of the last three popes have made it a priority to visit Albania. Now Pope Francis is about to meet and greet Albanians in their homeland and will reach tens of thousands more around the globe via live streaming. He will be received with true joy and love, as well as with tears and open hearts. The world will witness the spirit of this small, vibrant nation whose roots are in the Balkans and has many sons and daughters around the globe.
This upcoming papal visit is a signal of hope, faith, and love not just to Albanians but to the entire world. It is especially important in current times when we see so much despair, poverty, ideological and political war, marginalization, and the breaking up of families. The very thread of the fabric of society is endangered when abortion is a commodity and when marriage is considered an inconvenience.
Popes have appreciated the resilience of the Albanian nation. Although it has experienced difficult times it has survived. As small as it is, this nation that has suffered and lost so much, has also been blessed. Albanians keep their families together, they thrive in community, they are hospitable and friendly, joyful and hardworking, warriors and entertainers, and above all, many are very godly people. Albania has given the world Mother Teresa , George Kastrioti –Scanderbeg, and many other important people.
When the Ottomans occupied their lands, Albanians stood strong and kept them at bay for a while.  Although the occupation seemed to last forever, Albanian kept their identity, spoke their language, sang their songs and ballads, and never forgot God, their creator.
Then communism came, a beast of immeasurable dimensions, and through the iron fist did the unthinkable. Growing up during that period, my generation of Albanians can testify to what happened to many. It is sad that some embraced that ideology. There is still no true reconciliation because of a lack of individual reconciliation between  some people and God. Unless that individual reconciliation takes place, all of the fake smiles and fake words, all of the pompous behavior and shiny shows, which are not from God, will fall away.
That is a sorrow that my generation and that of my parents have to this day. Not only because it is a matter of justice (which is due) but also out of love for every Albanian whose eternal destiny might be at risk.  This papal visit is an opportunity that should not be missed, either on a personal or a societal level.
In that light, I hope that the joy that the visit, generated by God almighty, and reflected in the loving and humble pontiff and many holy priests, sisters, religious and lay people, will soften the hearts of every one.  I hope and pray that this visit stirs in the hearts of people the desire to repent and seek forgiveness, the desire to cleanse the deep wounds caused by vices and sin, and allows them to be blessed with the grace of the Almighty and have hope in divine providence.
May the conversion of hearts take place and the Albanian people seek and embrace the truth, which they can encounter in a practical and special way this Sunday.
As for the Albanian martyrs of the Church, we all should rejoice in them. May their blood, which is joined in the suffering of our Lord and Redeemer, be the offering through which the Albanian nation can hope to be redeemed
Welcome to Albania Pope Francis!

*Merita McCormack serves as the  President of “ VATRA-Washington DC Regional Chapter"

May 24, 2014

In God we trust!

In God We Trust


by Merita Bajraktari-McCormack

It was the mid of the 1980-s. We, the Albanians who lived during those years in the country, remember very well the great economic and spiritual suffering. Economically the country was among the world’s poorest and we were heading towards starvation and we were also empty spiritually.  Our brain was being filled with Marxist-Leninist ideology and for people of my generation, who were just young children at that time it was a very confusing period. It was constantly filled with uncertainty and a lot of stress.
I had “escaped“ the communist regime’s grip for the moment and found myself a student at the Agricultural Institute of  Kamėz, today known as the Agriculture University of Tirana. I say “escape” as  my  family’s  political “biography " was   a “gloomy one” . That meant my family was an anticommunist one and that we were “stamped” with that name, bearing no rights to study or to move.

The local communist party chiefs were not so comfortable with letting me go and study beyond High School, but it had already happened. In another story I share how did that happen. At college we were a small group of students who were watched carefully and were kept under a "radar" as to what we would do or say. We were those students who, in the subjects of Marxist ideology and the History of the  Socialist Labour (Communist) Party of Albania would never be graded with the top marks. We were automatically denied a couple of grades in those general education subjects just because of who we were (politically that is).

The first day that I put foot on the premises of the Institute, someone I knew told me to look at a gray haired man, in his early fifties.

- “Look at that man,”-I heard,- “he  is the great philosopher,  the number one Atheist  in the country.  He is professor Hako, which Pope John Paul  II has condemned  to death, a condemnation  in absentia”
- “What “, - I asked -, rolling my eyes
 - “The Vatican doesn’t do that, it can never sentence someone to death like that, have you any brains in you head ?”,  - I wondered
-       “I sure do “, - said the person – “he is a philosopher that has maddened the Vatican and through his arguments  he has shown that religion really is the "opium " for the people”.
        
I had so much to do those first days, so I really forgot about that encounter and that professor until 1987 when he lectured my class on Marxism and Leninism Theory and Ideology. That was during my junior year in college. It was the year 1987, when the pluralism of ideas began, the pluralism of opinions and of thoughts were allowed and wee to be tolerated. People could now begin to express different opinions.

And, we, the students at the Institute, were part of it, in the hope that one day we would be able to finally say something freely, without the fear of being persecuted for what we might say. We hoped!

Back into the lecture hall, it was a lecture on Marxist subjects, as usual. At the end of the lecture the professor asked:

-     “ Any one has any questions?”
-       The atheist professor of Marxism  had just explained something " dialectic " that  nothing disappears  but everything evolves and is transformed .

- “Here” , - the professor had  said , - “you burn  the wood ,  it becomes ashes,  you spread the ashes  in the field of wheat  or corn and that gives  nutrition to the plants it is a chain, it changes, it becomes something else, never disappears, it only evolves”.

- “What about the soul , professor , what does the soul evolves to ?” - cried
one of the students around me.
- “What did you say?”-the professor asked
There was silence
- “Any questions?”- the professor asked
Silence again .
- “So let us close, let us  seal it for today ,  there is no  soul, there is no God,  just go  and live today ; when a man dies his life ends. He becomes just bones, just dirt afterwards….So there is no God ! There is just mother nature. Ehhhh” –he sighed- “I am not giving detailed explanations,”- and he went on closing his folder, preparing to leave the auditorium.

Gazi was a student who was transferred as a sophomore to us from   another school.
He had a special weakness for USA and was always carrying some American symbol and  was always being secretive about it. But he would share the “ forbidden American items” with only a handful of people.  I was one of the lucky students to be part of that “handful” group. That day Gazi had a ten dollars bill with him and while the professor was claiming that "there is no God, the transformation is natural, there is no God but just  Mother Nature  etc. ",  Gazi brought out the ten dollars note and said to me in a low  voice:

-       "Merita , you know English, what  does this sentence mean?” - and  he pointed at  the words printed on the bill:
-        
-        " In God We Trust "
-        
I barely kept my laughter and though I was sure Gazi knew what that meant, I wrote it on a piece of paper with a large print as to reiterate what we daily denied : “ NE ZOT NE BESOJME” – that is in Albanian for  “In God We Trust ". I handed the piece of paper to Gazi who smiled and read it out loud.

- “Is there any question, there, hey, you over there, on the right ?” - asked  the philosophy professor, looking over at us.

Gazi lifted his head and said :

- “Professor you told us that everything is transformed , so where does the soul goes after the death, professor , what does it become according to the dialectic materialism”?

The professor did not change color in his face, nor did he show any anger, but
somehow  he seemed like he wanted to  stretch  out his arms  from the podium, reach Gazi and shake him. He then said:

 - “Oh you , you, I know where ,  I know where you are heading with these words.
- Listen Rosi, he addressed Gazi by last name, we have tens of students here who want serious answers to their serious questions. Dialectic is a big thing,  Rosi”-, and he began to “explain” his atheist stand starting with the idea of why so much evil in the world if there was a God.

So as the days passed we were bombarded with hatred for religion, for the true God, for  Pope John Paul II and his predecessors,  for the clergy , for the  religious institutions in general. For the Pope, this spiritual leader to millions of people, we were fed with   the most poisonous thoughts and accusations. We were told we were unlike other nations, we should not mind the Rome’s anachronic Pope.

In the end why would we? We had our own self -made  "popes", some prepared in the Moscow’s universities and some simply being blinded. We were taught that the Vatican’s Pope was a bloodthirsty criminal, and that the Vatican was our country’s  third  and most dangerous enemy after USA and USSR.  Hence we heard and learnt a heavy load of rubbish at school.

At night though, in the silence of our hearts and homes, we secretly tuned in to foreign languages ​​radio stations.  We would hear the total opposite of what we were hearing at school and we were both confused and sad. We wanted to believe our professors, yet, we were not sure that what they were teaching us was true.

One day   as we were walking together, in the  "rebels circle" ( we were given that name  after our “bad biography”) – we ran into a professor who kept us somewhat closer. He was a kind man who also liked a free coffee too. That day, as we offered him more than a coffee, we decided to ask this professor the same question, where does the soul go after death?

- "Boys, girls, look, the problem is, look  do not joke with such things, you know that we are supposed to be atheists,  we are supposed to not believe in the soul” –the professor said.
“There is nothing besides the body, the body dies, it is transformed , bones remain, then they are dissolved, look guys, do not ask such dangerous questions”.
- “But then “, - said Mara, a student who came five years later to school and who was from the South ,-“ then professor , please tell us , do you think the same as the professor who is "convicted" in absentia by the Vatican ?”
- "Ugh ... I am late for my lecture" - he rushed, - "leave it for later, do not mess with these things."

Make another donut that other coffee,- he asked the waitress,- “I will eat  it as I walk”

And he left us without answers.

We graduated and were sent back home, to where we were to work for the state owned enterprises or cooperatives, until we experienced the great shock of our lives, it was like a major lasting earthquake, a revolution, the  fall of Communism. Democracy and freedom were coming to us !

 April 25th, 1993. The Pope visited Albania. I worked in Tirana, the capital of the country at that time, and luckily was there and saw the Pope riding in his bulletproof car almost no farther than several meters away and do not know how to describe what I felt. It was a sea of people, the largest crowd ever gathered, there was serenity; there was enthusiasm, joy, prayers and tears. I remember Ava, my 4 -year relative who, as we followed the pope mobile pointed her finger at the Pope as the pope mobile moved on and shouted: "Papa, Papa, God, God",  and her mother excitedly  told her that he was  the Pope who was sent by God  to us. I heard that  mother-daughter exchange  and felt at peace and very happy. I couldn’t explain then what it was, now I know it was Grace touching our hearts, the veil was being lifted and we were able to see the Pope visiting us, the one who had been taught to hate him; he was giving us so much love, telling us the Truth, pointing us to the Source of all!  


A year later, I saw the Pope on Sunday April 10, 1994 during Easter in St. Peter's Square in Vatican. The next day my then husband to be and I were to be married in Rome. His parents were with us. That Easter Sunday, they, the cradle Catholics, were so excited. I saw tears in their eyes listening to Pope’s Urbi et Orbi blessing. They filmed the Pope’s address and were so happy. While I tried to grasp all what was happening, I could not help but think about my Atheist professor and many others. I was living a historical moment, not understanding it, yet being overwhelmed by what I was witnessing.  I began to explore and learn. I got to know the Pope a little, began to study the Faith and began to open my heart to Grace. After so many years, now, am better informed and definitely transformed, I rejoice in the canonization of the beloved Pope and his predecessor. I feel, acknowledge and am thankful for the many blessings. I also, in prayer, wonder how many more Albanians, like me were touched by Saint Pope John Paul II and whether my former professors have tasted the Grace of that true Love and Mercy that I am so much blessed with.

May 13, 2014

Thank a Priest!

We must thank God for our brilliant and caring priests. Please pray for them. There of course have been a few bad apples among them but there are so many among them who are  so Jesus like, so when you see a Catholic priest, thank him for his sacrifice of service... It takes a lot to be a priest and they do sacrifice a lot.  Our Lady of Fatima, as you protected Saint Pope John Paul II on that day in 1981, please take all the priests under your protection and wrap them with the mantel of your maternal care. Amen!

May 10, 2014

On this Mother's Day- asking God to bless all the mothers

My dear mom has plenty of stories, and she always shares with us.Today she shared some new ones. I am sharing one with you here.  When she was 11 years of age, she and her siblings had to carry heavy loads of corn filled sacks on her shoulders for many miles, as they (the family) were kulaks and they were left to live or die on their own.

She said: "...the back used to hurt a lot as it was a long journey , carrying those sacks of corn and our bones were not strong...." 

I better stop, really, every time she shares stories from her young age  in Albania (much worse then mine) I want to cry and scream " Why?" but then , I know what I have learnt from Mother Angelica who says:...".DO NOT WASTE YOUR SUFFERING. OFFER IT UP to THE LORD" 

Hence, I offer it up  to the Lord, for my mom and for all the mothers who have suffered so much. 

Please dear Lord bless my mom and all the mothers and may their suffering be the key to your Love and Mercy. Amen! Happy Mother's day every one! 

Mar 30, 2014

About forgiveness - a short reflection

It is so painful when someone tells us the truth about how we may have hurt them. It is even more painful to see how that hurt might have caused so much pain and suffering to that person or due to its ripple effect. How about we say a prayer for those whom we have hurt and ask for forgiveness at the same time. Ask them for forgiveness and ask God to forgive you. Do it all with a contrite heart, that will certainly set anyone free. As painful as it might sounds, it is great to know you are forgiven and loved. Let us beg for the grace of Humility so we can  really say and mean: "I am sorry" 
M.McCormack- March 30th,  2014

Mar 3, 2014

A moment with my mother- a poem

A moment with my mother….

By Merita  B. McCormack


March 3, 2014 

I look at my mother’s face and hands….
They speak a lot
Those hands that always held me
That cleaned and dressed me
That fed and caressed me, 
Those hands that have been moving forever 
To make things
To create things
To beautify things, places and people
To make the world a better place for me and others

I look at my mother’s hands and recall
How did they affect my world and others’
She is a real hero…
When everything fell on her shoulders
She moved her hands and knitted for us
She fed us, clothed us, protected us
She kept us going….
I look at her hands,
Her fingers are not as fast,
Yet she does marvelous things….
She tells me she is sorry she can’t do much
Yet she is still doing many motherly things
She says, sorry daughter I am tired 
And as she holds and kisses my hands, 
I get teary eyed…

And then I gaze at her face….
I look at those eyes that always give me 
The gentle, loving and affirmative look 
Though the rosy cheeks have now faded,
Yet she is rosy hearted….
Her lips are always defined 
Regardless of any make up usage
My mother’s smile is a forever stamp 
Upon her face and on my heart
I see the same look
Adore the same smile
Sense the same worry
Notice the same determination
Receive the same true love
That only a loving mother can give
And I thank God for my Mother 
And in silent prayer I ask Him 
To bless her as He wishes……
For she gave me first and foremost life and love...

She looks at me and talks about just anything…..
And I listen…because everything coming from her matters….
I treasure those words and want to once more say
I love my wonderful and loving mother…..