Once upon a time—this is how I could begin this story. And then I could continue like this: there was a Woman who believed in something—something women rarely believe in. Not because they couldn’t, but because it takes a great deal of strength, faith, and perseverance… and one more thing: joining forces with others, and lighting a fire in them too for what we believe in. Maybe that’s why we begin stories like this the way we begin fairy tales—because not everyone can build their dreams on the ground of reality, and invite others into that dream as well.
Allow me, dear reader, to report on an event in a way I cannot be unbiased—because for me, this story is personal. If I were writing about something neutral, I would gather all my journalistic composure and start like this:
“On a sunny Friday at the end of April, guests arrived in an elegant spring garden in one of Budapest’s suburban districts…”
But I won’t start that way.
As I drove to this garden party, I realized I was hurrying the way you hurry to someone you love—toward a meeting that matters deeply to them, and therefore matters to you as well.
I packed a small gift, but not something new I picked off a shop shelf to be polite. Instead, I chose a special wooden dolphin I brought home from one of my trips in Asia—something that matters to me.
They say a dolphin brings great luck, and symbolizes the power of unity, intelligence, and family. You only part with something that personal when you’re giving it for something even more important than the object itself—for a cause.
For a cause that people have been working on together for nearly two decades, and that is, at its core, for the well-being of others.
And here I must write something plainly: what Gurbó Éva has believed in for almost two decades saved my life. A way of seeing the connection between body and soul, where—when I needed it—I received help at any time that gave me faith and strength for recovery.
This is my personal story about how an event becomes a true celebration—and how many of us there are whose lives were changed.
It really was late April, when the MedDiamond Pest Health Center held a garden gathering in the yard of their newly opened suburban practice. In their own garden—beautiful surroundings, with a garden pond and little fish swimming calmly in it.
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting this level of organization and “luxury.” And if they had invited me to something as simple as a bogrács cookout, I would have gone with the same joy in my heart. But what welcomed me was genuinely impressive.
At the entrance: colorful balloons. In the garden: beautifully set round tables. Delicious scents—where the fragrance of flowers mixed with the aroma of a professionally arranged grill bar.
On the buffet table: additive-free specialties presented by the Tóalmás Sausage Manufactory. Sausage, cracklings, and that irresistible Hungarian “lard bread,” topped with fresh sprouts. And homemade strudel so good I could write poems about it.
And the team so dear to my heart guided the arrivals with warm smiles—who, in truth, were not even “guests,” because on this day we all came home: home to our family, our soul-family.
The kind of place where you don’t feel tense, you don’t have to perform, and it’s completely natural to reach into the fridge without asking—because you’re truly at home.
There was joy, laughter, and a quiet reverence—because everyone respected the “miracle” Éva, the center’s leader, has created.
The place is difficult to describe. It was made with heart. And with the most modern Mora® medical devices, they support those who turn to them. I’ve written about them before—worth reading more about!
Ahogy Éva a beszédében azt elmondta, valójában ezzel a rendezvénnyel nem magukat szerette volna ünnepelni, hanem azokat az embereket, akik mentek vele egy látomás után, hittek benne és mellé álltak, hogy kölcsönösen tanuljanak egymástól.
I think this may be one of life’s greatest lessons: turning dreams into reality through unity, faith, humility, and mutual learning. That is what made this event feel magical.
Because people gathered who respect, accept, and love one another. And they love the “miracle” Éva has been working for—nearly two decades—for others.
For me personally, too. So I can live in health.
Talán ennyi elég is a kedves olvasónak ahhoz, hogy megbocsájtsa nekem, hogy nem tudok úgy írni erről a rendezvényről, mint bármelyik másról.
Perhaps this is enough, dear reader, for you to forgive me that I cannot write about this gathering the way I would write about just any other event.
It was April. The sun came out. The little fish swam in the pond. The scents made you light-headed—in the best way. The speeches and laughter of people dear to me filled my heart.
The food became strength in my body. The music softened everything.
Pokorny Lia, the artist, made us cry and laugh in her performance titled Smoke—because that evening something special slipped into all our souls: a sense of unity that perhaps even writers cannot fully write down.
Vegan desserts from Naspolya Nassolda sweetened the end of dinner, and as the sun went down, the melodies could still be heard out on the street—smuggling songs of the soul into the hearts of people living nearby.
A heart opened.
Because that is what happened that evening: an opening of hearts—rather than a grand opening.
