I am reading a novel by Nicholas Gage called 'Eleni' in honor of his mother who sacrificed her life by ensuring her children lived. Gage was raised in the northern mountains of Greece during WWII and the subsequent civil war. When the Communists were ushering tens of thousands of Greek children behind the Iron Curtain Eleni made sure her children got away. Gage fine-tuned his investigative journalist skills being raised and educated in the United States in order to return to Greece, find out who was responsible for the death of his mother and avenge her death. The book is wonderfully written; it is historically precise, but the narrative reads simply like a story.
And then the ending of the book. He spits in the face of Katis, the man who sentenced his mother to the firing squad, hoping Katis would strike back so Gage's emotions would overwhelm him to shoot. But then, even later when in the room as Katis sleeps alone, Gage reflects that his mother chose to love. Her last words were, 'My children!' If he killed Katis, Gage would have revenge, but he would sever himself from his mother and perpetuate the hatred for further generations.
As a mother dedicating myself to the raising of our children, these stories shore me up. Love, the home, the daily rhythm which means security to our little ones; in thousands of daily unseen choices, Eleni saved the lives of her children - and that of her enemy.
And on we walk,
Beth
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