The writing of my annual Christmas letter this year presents both a challenge and an opportunity for me. The challenge is that I don’t know where to begin.
Oh, I could fill this page with all the usual bits of information…how everyone has grown a year older, moved up a grade in school and continues to be busy with this adventure we call life.
I could tell about Emily’s burgeoning independence as she moves closer to getting her driver’s license when she turns 16 on December 20th.
I could talk about Christopher’s newfound social life now that he is 13 years old. The fact that Nick is back in Antigua, Guatemala, studying Spanish, and that Paul continues to work crazy hours, traveling at least 50% of the time, often out of the country and seems to thrive on this high level of stress, might be interesting, as well.
But focusing on that just doesn’t feel right this year. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with life moving forward, with our family continuing to grow up and out. It’s just that this Christmas, what used to be so important now seems trivial. You see, when Christopher had the opportunity to prepare and serve a meal at a local homeless shelter, the highlight for him was sitting with the folks who came in to eat. Sharing a meal with those less fortunate than him really had an impact. When Nick worked for World Vision in their micro finance organization, he spent three weeks in Mexico, and it was there that he met and spent time with people who have benefited from the loans; whose lives have been changed as a result of the generosity of others. Emily came back from her annual trip working in an orphanage in Mexico feeling unsettled. She was glad to be home and had missed her family, but her heart was back in Mexico, with the ninõs who craved the time and love that she was able to share.
One year ago today, I was living my safe little life in my tiny little world. I was fully complacent and quite content. Oh, I thought my world was rather large; after all, I had moved 15 times, lived in 8 states, 13 cities, 3 apartments, 1 townhouse and 12 different homes. I knew people all over the United States and even had a friend in France. My husband and oldest son had traveled the world and my two younger children had been to Mexico and Peru.
Then I met Angela Mason from World Vision who invited me to travel with her in September to Bosnia. Little did I know how very safe and tiny my world really was. I was fully unaware of my complacency. Well, perhaps I did know, but I was just so comfortable. I was well into the rhythm of my life; I had been a wife for 26 years and a mother for more than 23 years. Being a room parent, team mom and social coordinator for my family was second nature and I was quite capable of running our home while my husband traveled for work.
I was independent, confident and content. And I was fooling myself. I had told myself that I cared about others because my family supported women and children in third-world countries, but I really was unaware of the suffering that was going on around the world.
I knew that there were starving children, families living in poverty and women being abused. But I didn’t know that during the war in Bosnia, hanging laundry out to dry was a life-threatening task because of the snipers who were hiding in the hills; watching and waiting for an opportunity to kill yet another woman, man or child. It didn’t matter whom or why; it was done for sport and out of spite. I didn’t know that there is a village in Bosnia called Djulici that is made up of 90% women because during the war, the Serbian army took all of the men away, massacred them and left them in mass graves. But today, these women are entrepreneurs. They have greenhouses filled with plants that they cultivate, cows and chickens that they tend. It is with the fruits of their labor that they have pulled their families out of poverty and are now financially independent.
I didn’t know that when I returned home, I would think incessantly about the beautiful women I had met and spent time with. Their stories were swirling around in my head and my heart ached for them. I was so sad when I first returned and I became despondent. I was challenged by a friend to start living again…to start living my life of normalcy that they so long for…to live my life “not in spite of those who I met but because of those who I met.” Most of all, I didn’t know that meeting and spending time with these brave and resilient women would change my heart; would change my life. I didn’t know that it would open my eyes to a world of suffering; a world of women and children who lived through war, who continue to live among the ruins of that war yet hold so much hope and have become my inspiration. The women from the village of Djulici told us that their hope for us is that we would never have to live through a war…that we would always know peace. I am moved by the fact that they wish for us, that which they do not know.
My life is no longer so safe, tiny and predictable. My world has grown and my heart has been broken. I look at things differently; my perspective has changed. I feel privileged to now count myself among those who “have seen.” I can’t stop thinking about the women I met in Bosnia and I have a passion to do something about those who suffer. I’m not sure what I am called to do, so for now I tell their stories to anyone who will listen. I use my written word on this blog and I use my voice to speak; to move and inspire others to do something. Perhaps this is what I am meant to do. This is my opportunity. I will keep listening.
I have found myself being quiet, both inside and out since returning from Bosnia. I never fully understood the power of silence; of stillness. It is in silence that we open our minds, our hearts and our souls to what it is that we are to hear. I believe that God quietly spoke to me through the women and children I met in Bosnia. His voice was still, soft and slow. I think that’s how He usually works. His voice is subtle; we hardly hear it and then all at once we realize that a change has transpired within us.
So this year, as I ponder the Christmas season, the fact that Christ came to earth as a baby, quietly, on a silent night two thousand years ago, I think about all the suffering in the world. I think of those who have known war and who struggle daily to find peace. I am reminded of a passage in the Bible, which says, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16.33. May your New Year be filled with places of quiet, silence, stillness and peace.
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