Saint Vryaini or Vryoni is a Cypriot Saint, who is honored in the village of Mandria in Paphos. In Mandria there is the chapel dedicated to Saint Vryoni, which is the only chapel in the world dedicated to this Saint.
Until 1963-64 the village of Mandria in Paphos was a mixed village where both Greeks and Turks lived. In 1960 the village had 404 inhabitants. The Turkish Cypriots were 329 and the Greek Cypriots 79. When the bicommunal conflicts between the Greeks and the Turks of Cyprus took place in 1963-64, the Greek residents left their village and the village became a Turkish enclave and no Greek could go there.
In 1974, after the Turkish invasion, the Turkish Cypriots left and went to the occupied territories. Greek Cypriot refugees from the north settled in the village. The village is located next to the sea and is very close to the city of Paphos. It is also one of the most prosperous villages in Cyprus.
In the village there was a church dedicated to Saints Andronikos and Athanasia (which has now been rebuilt) and five chapels dedicated to Saint Heliodoros, Saint Euresi, Saint Eulogos, Saint Augona (Arkona) and Saint Vryoni.
After 1963 when the Greek Cypriots left and the Turkish Cypriots remained, everything was destroyed. None of these chapels exist anymore except the Chapel of Saint Vryoni which has been rebuilt after the Turkish invasion of 1974 by a family of refugees from the village of Assia, after the Saint first had a vision for them and showed them where the ruins of her chapel were.
The Chapel of Saint Vryoni was struck three times by the Turkish Cypriot residents of the village. In 1975, along with the refugees who came to Mandria chased by the Turkish invader, there was also a woman from Assia, Stavroula Stakos, 30 years old at the time, along with her husband, Andreas Panagis Stakos, and their five children: Photini, Paniko, Despo, Photis and George.
Nothing at that time resembled the chapel, whose ruins had been hidden under the soil.
One night, however, a beautiful woman dressed in black appeared in Stavroula's sleep and said to her:
"Stavroula, stop crying and empty the suitcase with your things. There is no turning back, this is where you will stay. Get up and take your husband and go build me my house."
“Your house, my lady? But we have no money, we are destitute. We left our house with the clothes we wear, with five babies, without a job, how are we going to build your house for you?"
"Stavroula, I want you to go and rebuild my house for me, and if you want to, stay in it too."
"And where is your house?"
"Set off and you will find it."
"I don't know this country at all, with five babies where should I go looking?"
"I want you to do what I told you."
"Very well divine one, but where is your house?"
Then the tall, beautiful, cassock-clad woman took her and led her out of the village to some fields near the sea and next to some large caves.
"You see? This is my house. The Turks ruined it for me. Remember this. Do not forget it. Get your husband and come and build it for me."
"And who are you, my lady? What is your name?"
"My name is ………… and don't forget what I told you."
Stavroula woke up in a panic, but she could not remember the name of this cassock-clad woman.
In their effort to get back on their feet after the war, Stavroula and her husband Andreas let the days pass and Stavroula's vision was set aside for a while, without of course being forgotten for a minute. Stavroula kept telling her vision over and over again, maybe she would manage to remember this strange name of the beautiful woman with the cassock. this was in vain. All the residents in this village were all refugees. No locals.
After some time, on a quiet night, the beautiful, cassock-clad woman appeared again in Stavroula's sleep and said to her:
"Stavroula, I told you that I want you to go build me my house and you didn't go. Now that you've gotten back on your feet a little with your husband, you're going to get him and go build it for me."
"Tell me your name again, my lady, because I don't remember it."
"My name is ………………."
Stavroula woke up in a panic from her sleep and tried in vain to remember the name of this woman, but nothing.
But Stavroula did not give up. She was telling and retelling her dream everywhere, maybe some circumstance would help her remember the strange name of this woman. She was looking everywhere. She asked everyone she met. Until one morning an old gentleman came to Mandria for business, he met Stavroula's husband and as she would tell and retell her dream, she told him about it too since he was a resident of a neighboring village.
"Did you happen to hear any strange name, any Saint whose church was built here before the war?"
"There used to be a chapel, outside the village, near the sea, dedicated to Saint Vryoni."
Stavroula couldn't hold it in and burst into sobs and weeping. "That, that is the name!"
She ran to the priest of the village of Timi and told him to come together to find the place that the Saint indicated to her. And miraculously the church was revealed, buried in space and time, in ruins, shattered, burned.... The exhumation took place before their eyes. Only the foundations were preserved.
“My Father, rejoice; order me the icon. But please, when it's finished, bring it home to me so I can see it, to see if it's the same appearance I saw in my dream. So when is she celebrated, my Father?"
"August 30th and Bright Tuesday."
Then Stavroula said, "My father, on the thirtieth of August I saw the dream. I really want, my Father, to see the icon, because this face I saw was like that of my mother, who I lost at the age of 13."
The icon was finished. It first went to Stavroula's house. Stavroula couldn't believe it, she collapsed, screamed: "This is her, this is my Saint and mother, Saint Vryoni!"
And yet Stavroula and her husband did not forget what Saint Vryoni asked of them. With the help of all the refugees who moved to the village and Timi's priest, the house of Saint Vryoni was erected and built in Mandria, Paphos, near the sea, the beautiful chapel which, since the day it was built and liturgized in 1982, has not stopped working miracles.
Saint Vryoni seems to be very miraculous, since with her various miracles, year after year she increases the number of her pilgrims.
The memory of Saint Vryoni is celebrated on August 30, where there is also a festival and many believers come to venerate her grace. Also, believers come daily to light a candle and pray as the chapel does not close.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
Until 1963-64 the village of Mandria in Paphos was a mixed village where both Greeks and Turks lived. In 1960 the village had 404 inhabitants. The Turkish Cypriots were 329 and the Greek Cypriots 79. When the bicommunal conflicts between the Greeks and the Turks of Cyprus took place in 1963-64, the Greek residents left their village and the village became a Turkish enclave and no Greek could go there.
In 1974, after the Turkish invasion, the Turkish Cypriots left and went to the occupied territories. Greek Cypriot refugees from the north settled in the village. The village is located next to the sea and is very close to the city of Paphos. It is also one of the most prosperous villages in Cyprus.
In the village there was a church dedicated to Saints Andronikos and Athanasia (which has now been rebuilt) and five chapels dedicated to Saint Heliodoros, Saint Euresi, Saint Eulogos, Saint Augona (Arkona) and Saint Vryoni.
After 1963 when the Greek Cypriots left and the Turkish Cypriots remained, everything was destroyed. None of these chapels exist anymore except the Chapel of Saint Vryoni which has been rebuilt after the Turkish invasion of 1974 by a family of refugees from the village of Assia, after the Saint first had a vision for them and showed them where the ruins of her chapel were.
The Chapel of Saint Vryoni was struck three times by the Turkish Cypriot residents of the village. In 1975, along with the refugees who came to Mandria chased by the Turkish invader, there was also a woman from Assia, Stavroula Stakos, 30 years old at the time, along with her husband, Andreas Panagis Stakos, and their five children: Photini, Paniko, Despo, Photis and George.
Nothing at that time resembled the chapel, whose ruins had been hidden under the soil.
One night, however, a beautiful woman dressed in black appeared in Stavroula's sleep and said to her:
"Stavroula, stop crying and empty the suitcase with your things. There is no turning back, this is where you will stay. Get up and take your husband and go build me my house."
“Your house, my lady? But we have no money, we are destitute. We left our house with the clothes we wear, with five babies, without a job, how are we going to build your house for you?"
"Stavroula, I want you to go and rebuild my house for me, and if you want to, stay in it too."
"And where is your house?"
"Set off and you will find it."
"I don't know this country at all, with five babies where should I go looking?"
"I want you to do what I told you."
"Very well divine one, but where is your house?"
Then the tall, beautiful, cassock-clad woman took her and led her out of the village to some fields near the sea and next to some large caves.
"You see? This is my house. The Turks ruined it for me. Remember this. Do not forget it. Get your husband and come and build it for me."
"And who are you, my lady? What is your name?"
"My name is ………… and don't forget what I told you."
Stavroula woke up in a panic, but she could not remember the name of this cassock-clad woman.
In their effort to get back on their feet after the war, Stavroula and her husband Andreas let the days pass and Stavroula's vision was set aside for a while, without of course being forgotten for a minute. Stavroula kept telling her vision over and over again, maybe she would manage to remember this strange name of the beautiful woman with the cassock. this was in vain. All the residents in this village were all refugees. No locals.
After some time, on a quiet night, the beautiful, cassock-clad woman appeared again in Stavroula's sleep and said to her:
"Stavroula, I told you that I want you to go build me my house and you didn't go. Now that you've gotten back on your feet a little with your husband, you're going to get him and go build it for me."
"Tell me your name again, my lady, because I don't remember it."
"My name is ………………."
Stavroula woke up in a panic from her sleep and tried in vain to remember the name of this woman, but nothing.
But Stavroula did not give up. She was telling and retelling her dream everywhere, maybe some circumstance would help her remember the strange name of this woman. She was looking everywhere. She asked everyone she met. Until one morning an old gentleman came to Mandria for business, he met Stavroula's husband and as she would tell and retell her dream, she told him about it too since he was a resident of a neighboring village.
"Did you happen to hear any strange name, any Saint whose church was built here before the war?"
"There used to be a chapel, outside the village, near the sea, dedicated to Saint Vryoni."
Stavroula couldn't hold it in and burst into sobs and weeping. "That, that is the name!"
She ran to the priest of the village of Timi and told him to come together to find the place that the Saint indicated to her. And miraculously the church was revealed, buried in space and time, in ruins, shattered, burned.... The exhumation took place before their eyes. Only the foundations were preserved.
“My Father, rejoice; order me the icon. But please, when it's finished, bring it home to me so I can see it, to see if it's the same appearance I saw in my dream. So when is she celebrated, my Father?"
"August 30th and Bright Tuesday."
Then Stavroula said, "My father, on the thirtieth of August I saw the dream. I really want, my Father, to see the icon, because this face I saw was like that of my mother, who I lost at the age of 13."
The icon was finished. It first went to Stavroula's house. Stavroula couldn't believe it, she collapsed, screamed: "This is her, this is my Saint and mother, Saint Vryoni!"
And yet Stavroula and her husband did not forget what Saint Vryoni asked of them. With the help of all the refugees who moved to the village and Timi's priest, the house of Saint Vryoni was erected and built in Mandria, Paphos, near the sea, the beautiful chapel which, since the day it was built and liturgized in 1982, has not stopped working miracles.
Saint Vryoni seems to be very miraculous, since with her various miracles, year after year she increases the number of her pilgrims.
The memory of Saint Vryoni is celebrated on August 30, where there is also a festival and many believers come to venerate her grace. Also, believers come daily to light a candle and pray as the chapel does not close.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
