dancingthroughchaos

I found this poem quoted in Miranda Hart’s quirky book Is It Just Me?, which has helped me while away some dreary grey and rainy days recently.  (No, it’s not just you Miranda; life really is full of crazy things.)

It seemed somewhat whimsical in such a hefty tongue-in-cheek hardback, but as I read it through again, I realised the weight of Mr Hughes’ words.  

Some of our first conscious memories are around dreams and imagination.  We see ourselves as the hero of our own story and dive head-first into childhood games of princes and princesses, explorers, magicians, pirates, smugglers, highwaymen, detectives and outlaws.  (Or, was that just me, I wonder?). The whole ‘what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up’ conversation starts very early.  Doctor, nurse, astronaut, train driver, farmer, marine biologist, may all have crossed your mind.  A five year old my daughter worked with recently, declared with an adorable lisp that he wants to be a palaeontologist.  Alrighty, then.

But it’s those dreams, however they distill and coagulate, that take us on into the world with varying degrees of confidence and/or expectation, whether they come to fruition or not.  What were yours, I wonder? 

I wanted to be an English teacher; to spend my days writing books and stories.  It’s only in the last week or so that I’ve stopped to reflect that I’ve now done most of these things, in some shape or form, and with a children’s book poised to be published later this month, I should take a moment to celebrate and savour it all.

Meanwhile, in the world of harsh realities and brutal truths, none of us is unaware of what is happening 3,000 miles to the east of us right now.  I feel so much for the people of Ukraine: both unequivocal admiration and crippling sorrow.  Around the clock, their faces fill our television screens: weary, fearful, determined, courageous. 

A range of emotions are etched into their very beings as they leave behind a life where their dreams might have been within reach – some may have been just a whisker away from becoming reality.  No one has aspirations to be a refugee; a citizen on the run; an escapee from terror and destruction, clasping a few belongings and drawing your children close, while words of reassurance have vanished into the rubble, along with your home.  

Right now, so many are stumbling wearily over rough, frozen ground – literal ‘barren fields’ – where settled snow cannot disguise the ugly shapes of tanks and armoured vehicles, twisted metal and broken bridges.  The population has become that ‘broken-winged bird’, whose only flight is away from all that they know and towards the hazy promise of safety further west.

I’m so impressed with the kindness of people who have traveled east towards border crossings too; holding up signs as they offer board and lodging, hearth and home to these heart-broken families; strangers who will be forever woven into their history.  

So many lives disrupted; so many dreams lying discarded in the cold, churned up mud.

But broken-wings can mend with time and care.  The flight may not be quite so smooth, or quite so sleek, but they will take to the air again.  

This is not to over simplify what is going on; rather, it’s a respectful and awe-filled nod to the testimonies of those who emerged from other wars, their wounds deep but their bruised spirits uncurling slowly in the sunshine of hope; who flourished again in spite of all they had gone through.  I think of Corrie ten Boom who survived the horrors of Ravensbrück concentration camp, and the remarkable Dr Edith Eger who was discovered by an American soldier, barely alive under a pile of bodies at Auschwitz.  

In the week of International Women’s Day, I would unhesitatingly place both these warrior women in my list of inspirational people. 

The Ukrainian people have inspired us all with their courage, determination, and forthright faith.  Like them, I take comfort form the words in Revelation 21: ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away… ’I am making everything new!’  When that day comes,  for those who know God and are known by Him, our broken wings will be nothing more than a memory and we will soar again, renewed, in a place where we have no further use for mere dreams.