Who am I?

There is something wonderful about exploring the questions, "Who am I?" and "Where did I come from?" Digging through piles and sacks of old photos is like a treasure hunt. The prize? Realizing that my personal history is woven like an endless, vibrant rug throughout the greater history of all mankind. The deeper I dig the more I can see the faces of people I've never met; read the stories of incredible survival and mercy that happened only a few generations before me. Through their words, and the memories of others, I can travel back in time. I can be there beside them. I can escape my petty little world and see the bigger picture. 

I am the great-granddaughter of a godly woman who survived the Armenian Genocide. I am the granddaughter of a woman who was willing to come to the United States with her husband so that her children could have the best education possible. I am the daughter of one of her sons - a mere boy when he first came to Omaha, Nebraska. 

These people in these dusty old photos are more than blank faces. They are my family. They are the ones who have gone before. Now its time to tell their story. 

Henry and Marie Badeer [my grandparents] with Daniel and Gilbert.
Beirut, Lebanon - c. 1956

Henry and Marie Badeer with newly born Gilbert Badeer, December 1949.