Three wishes
"If you were in my place, what would you ask from the genie?"
I smiled as I watched little Andrei (all names have been changed) earnestly converse with one of the orphanage employees. He had just been reading about genies on the internet and was convinced that he had learned how to call one up. In preparation for this grand event, he was exploring the various options for his three wishes.
"Well, first of all, that all of the sick children will get better," Olya replied, glancing around at some of the other orphans surrounding us.
Andrei nodded soberly. "That's important."
I thought with tenderness about these sick children I've come to love. What would it mean for them to be healed? What would it be like if Kostya could feed himself, instead of relying on one of his buddies to help him? What would it mean to Vanya if he could finally be the height of a normal ten-year-old? And for little Mitya and Nina to not have holes in their necks anymore but be able to speak normally? What if none of them had to worry about operations and pain and leg braces and wheelchairs?
"And secondly that there was no war."
"In Ukraine?" Andrei inquired. My heart stopped a little as I thought of how much I love that country and how much I worry about her.
"Yes, in Ukraine. And everywhere."
I was touched by that. Over the past couple months I've spent in Moscow, I've come across a wide range of feelings toward Ukraine. And the vast majority of people I've talked to vocalize the belief that we are all humans. We are brothers. We ought to love one another. I've heard prayers offered in behalf of Ukraine. I've seen a collection taken up to help refugees. I've heard family members speak with concern and love for their loved ones in Ukraine. And in all of this I feel a great love and solidarity with my brothers and sister of Eastern Europe. There may be borders. There may be presidents and armies and governments. But when it all comes down to it, I feel that Andrei, in his innocent desire for Ukraine to be spared from war, captured the essence of the matter. It's about love. It's about compassion for those who surround us. Because, at the end of the day, we are all children of God before we are Russians or Ukrainians or Americans.
"And then," concluded Andrei, "that all of the Russian army who died during WWII would come back to life."
After my initial surprise at this unconventional wish, I again sensed Andrei's deep compassion, as well as his patriotism. Those who have studied history know that the Soviet Union army lost more soldiers in WWII than any other country. Millions of families who sent away their husbands and fathers in defense of freedom never welcomed them home again. Millions of young men never returned to their mothers or their education. And I'm sure that if Andrei had thought a little more, he would have included in his wish all the civilians who died in WWII, because his country lost around 14% of its population in that great struggle against evil. I was touched that Andrei desired to heal the deep wound his nation had suffered.
Although my position in life gives me a little less leeway to believe in genies than Andrei's lends him, I wouldn't mind if his little internet trick worked and that boy received his three wishes.
And if I ever get a genie, I think one of my wishes will be for more kids like Andrei in the world. And that they will grow up and retain their childhood compassion.
I smiled as I watched little Andrei (all names have been changed) earnestly converse with one of the orphanage employees. He had just been reading about genies on the internet and was convinced that he had learned how to call one up. In preparation for this grand event, he was exploring the various options for his three wishes.
"Well, first of all, that all of the sick children will get better," Olya replied, glancing around at some of the other orphans surrounding us.
Andrei nodded soberly. "That's important."
I thought with tenderness about these sick children I've come to love. What would it mean for them to be healed? What would it be like if Kostya could feed himself, instead of relying on one of his buddies to help him? What would it mean to Vanya if he could finally be the height of a normal ten-year-old? And for little Mitya and Nina to not have holes in their necks anymore but be able to speak normally? What if none of them had to worry about operations and pain and leg braces and wheelchairs?
"And secondly that there was no war."
"In Ukraine?" Andrei inquired. My heart stopped a little as I thought of how much I love that country and how much I worry about her.
"Yes, in Ukraine. And everywhere."
I was touched by that. Over the past couple months I've spent in Moscow, I've come across a wide range of feelings toward Ukraine. And the vast majority of people I've talked to vocalize the belief that we are all humans. We are brothers. We ought to love one another. I've heard prayers offered in behalf of Ukraine. I've seen a collection taken up to help refugees. I've heard family members speak with concern and love for their loved ones in Ukraine. And in all of this I feel a great love and solidarity with my brothers and sister of Eastern Europe. There may be borders. There may be presidents and armies and governments. But when it all comes down to it, I feel that Andrei, in his innocent desire for Ukraine to be spared from war, captured the essence of the matter. It's about love. It's about compassion for those who surround us. Because, at the end of the day, we are all children of God before we are Russians or Ukrainians or Americans.
"And then," concluded Andrei, "that all of the Russian army who died during WWII would come back to life."
After my initial surprise at this unconventional wish, I again sensed Andrei's deep compassion, as well as his patriotism. Those who have studied history know that the Soviet Union army lost more soldiers in WWII than any other country. Millions of families who sent away their husbands and fathers in defense of freedom never welcomed them home again. Millions of young men never returned to their mothers or their education. And I'm sure that if Andrei had thought a little more, he would have included in his wish all the civilians who died in WWII, because his country lost around 14% of its population in that great struggle against evil. I was touched that Andrei desired to heal the deep wound his nation had suffered.
Although my position in life gives me a little less leeway to believe in genies than Andrei's lends him, I wouldn't mind if his little internet trick worked and that boy received his three wishes.
And if I ever get a genie, I think one of my wishes will be for more kids like Andrei in the world. And that they will grow up and retain their childhood compassion.
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