Peace for a Friend

In March of 1999, NATO launched air strikes on Yugoslavia, and for months after this was what was in the news. I've never pretended to be an expert in world politics, nor have I ever put any great effort into writing about political topics. I remember, however, at that time reflecting on what I heard on the new and considering it not so much from the perspective of a country at war, but from the perspective of the people living through it. This essay, written in May of 1999, was borne from that perspective, the reflections of the mother of young children that I was at the time. 

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I am just a mother of three from small town America. I spend my days caring for my family, cooking meals, doing laundry and cleaning my house. Most days, I eke out time to pursue my dream of writing. I have no great claim to fame that gives me credibility when it comes to having political views about world events, so what could I possibly have to say that is of any importance about the happenings in Yugoslavia? Nothing but these words that echo from my heart to the hearts of all the mothers who currently live in the devastation of that war-torn land. This message is directed to you….

I rise from my bed in the morning and am greeting by familiar sights and sounds. It is nearly summer now, and the morning sun comes through my window, carrying bird songs and soft breezes. The first thing I see is my four-year-old son sleeping peacefully beside me where he settled in the earlier morning hours. I gaze at his beautiful face and hear his rhythmic breathing. I drink in this moment of calm, as I know that soon he will be awake and alive and unstoppable in this familiar world where he lives.

But you, across the seas and continents…where do you wake up? Is it in your own bed, or does your bed not exist anymore because you’ve had to leave it behind in a hasty quest for safety? Do your children sleep peacefully near you, where you can watch them breathe in the morning light without questions flashing through your mind about the certainty of their future—and yours?

In this way, I am blessed. But for the grace of God I might be in your place. I pray now for your safety, your future, and that of your children.

I go about my day, dusting, sweeping, washing clothes. I find myself frustrated knowing that it will all only need to be done again tomorrow. But you, how many times a day do you try to brush away the dust of war? The physical and emotional debris that scatters as the bombs strike to shake your homeland? Does it ever seem clean enough to you? Will it ever be that way again? 

My children get dirty as they play. Yours get dirty merely from trying to live. I pray for a clean start for you, a renewing of your circumstances, a halt to the destruction of your yesterdays and tomorrows.

Here I am, so safe and content in my country, my home. I can look out my windows and see the same view that was there yesterday and last week and last year. But that isn’t so for you, is it? Your view has been distorted without your permission, without asking your opinion. Your landscape is at best rearranged, at worst, destroyed. The images are staggering from far away. How much more unreal they must seem up close. Will it ever be rebuilt? Can it be possible? Perhaps bricks and mortar are in supply, but it is the landscape of your heart that will never be the same. The craters left in the ground, the buildings torn apart…these are nothing compared to the shattered dreams and broken lives that you and your children must now endure.

For this I am so sorry. In my political ignorance, I do not know who is truly to blame, except that man does this to man, country to country. For this, I pray that you may experience restoration in your life...that God may rejuvenate you and grant you some semblance of normalcy once again.

I do not know you or your children, but we are not so different, I suspect. We live and love, hope and dream, laugh and cry, fear and pray. Our surroundings differ, but our hearts are of a common thread. If I could, I would have you over to visit. We would sit and have tea, our children would laugh and play together and we would be friends.

For this, my friend, I pray for you…peace.