A  story of fear, hope and a life changed forever.

As I read each and every word,  I felt the goose-bumps and chills that tingled down my spine. It’s a personal narratives from a mother trying to get on with life in her war-stricken country while the rest of us have been fortunate enough to be untouched by the cruelty and hardship of war and living in the modern-ages.

The warring world is something I could only be aware of, but not something I have ever experienced The turmoil and agony a mother, or anyone has to go through watching her children going through the same thing, and not being able to do anything, is just…unimaginable. Unthinkable.

Her story left an imprint at the back of my head for a couple of days now, of how so very uncertain life is. Yet, when there is hope, all is not lost. And sometimes, all it takes is just a little kindness…like the guard at the bottom of her stairs in her narratives.

The beauty of it all is that kindness does not cost a thing.

Here’s an excerpt of her story:

Twenty years ago life as I knew it changed forever. Following short conflicts in Slovenia and Croatia, the Bosnian civil war was the most brutal chapter in the breakup of Yugoslavia. It was inconceivable to us that the multiethnic republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina, where Catholic Croats, Orthodox Serbs, Muslim Slavs and many others lived side by side and intermarried, would fight against each other. Although my experience is not as tragic as many can claim, it was traumatic enough. It changed and shaped my identity in the aftermath so much that at times it feels like thunder and lightning, emotional garbage, embarrassed ego, mental torture and tears. And at other times it feels like pride, defiance, stubbornness and unearthly strength. Twenty years later I am ready to share why.

Rows of old wooden benches and tables dominate the scene. There is something cold about the way they are placed on the lawn. I can’t see beyond them. There is a void in the landscape and I feel fear. I’m choosing the table in the middle row. It’s sticking out as if it doesn’t fit in and it wants to part away from the group. I sit down slowly and look at the clear, blue sky. I’m alone and I feel fear. I know my destiny. I sense its approach. My heart is pounding as I hear the steps. It is here, it will not bypass me. The feel of cold metal pressed against my neck, below my left ear sends shivers down my spine. I know it is over and I’m anticipating my end. I feel fear. The form behind me is silent; though I want to scream I don’t dare to. No one would hear me and it would not matter. I long to hold my daughter one last time; I have so many things I want to say to her before my time is up. The longing is so strong, it pains me. The bullet is entering my head in a slow-motion and the feeling terrorizes me. Astonishingly, it does not hurt but I’m in agony. The agony of a mother filled with so much love for her child realizing she will never be able to give it.  I want to have one more chance to make up for her stolen childhood; I want to ask forforgiveness for I wasn’t always the understanding mom she expected me to be. My heart is breaking apart as my mind is soundlessly shouting how proud I am of her, how much I love her and that she will be alright, pleading that she can somehow hear it. The scene before me disappears. Darkness envelops me…

I’m sobbing profusely; my body is trembling and my heart is still aching. Slowly, my eyes begin to recognize the outlines of my dimmed bedroom.

Continue reading the rest of Jas’s story here.

May we have that compassion and kindness embedded in our hearts to make this world a better place for our children.