Winds of Change

These past few months I've had the privilege of learning the Russian language. I say privilege because we live in the United States of America; where we're free to study and learn whatever we want.

Over these last months I've befriended my Russian teacher, a 76 year old Ukrainian woman named Svitlana.

I admit that learning Russian was never a goal in my life. Never would I have thought that one random choice would so profoundly impact my life as it has.

It's easy as a (somewhat) young American that the whole world is pretty much the same and that people really can live like we do if they just make an effort. It's easy for most of us to imagine a world without war or hunger because we've never had to face those frightening realities. As much as I try to sympathize, it's virtually impossible to imagine all the horrors encompassed in a diseased, war torn area or what it's like to be removed from your home and family and relocated halfway around the world.

More and more I listen to Svitlana's stories about having to leave Ukraine during WWII; moving to Germany and along the way having either potatoes 3 meals a day or watermelon depending on what was in season to harvest at the time. Having to wear the same clothes every single day and only bathing once a year- a year!

What must it have been like to have to run from bullets and bombs, trying to stay ahead of the encroaching front? How can you not forget watching friends and relatives die of starvation including your 5 month old baby sister?

I admit that as I hear these stories I'm intrigued, horrified, and increasingly grateful I was born in this country.

I can only hope I don't squander away all my freedom through idleness and willfull ignorance of what the world is really like.