Faith in a Miracle

It’s been a long time, but I’m still here. Many Ukrainians have left Hive, despite the community’s support and the recent rise of Hive value. I get it. It’s getting harder and harder for me to come back too. Every time, it’s tougher to answer the question: Who am I, and what value do I have to say? By the time I finish writing a post, it already feels meaningless to me.

We no longer value ourselves sufficiently highly when we communicate our soul’s content. Our real experiences are not at all garrulous. They could not communicate themselves even if they wished to. They are at a loss to find words for such confidences. Those things for which we find words, are things we have already overcome. Friedrich Nitsche.

How can one even believe that something good will happen after nearly three exhausting years of war, which, in truth, has been ongoing in one way or another for 10 years? After accepting the fact that life will never be the same as it was before Russia's invasion. After the psyche has adapted to shelling, hours without electricity, to uncertainty, and the realization that nothing, absolutely nothing, is guaranteed. We have all changed profoundly.

One night, during the shelling, I was asleep and dreaming. When the air raid alarm sounded, I didn't hear it. However, it was hard not to hear the explosions. I could hear the real explosions in my dream, and in my dream, I was descending into a shelter.

Over three years of war, I have managed to accept this new terrifying reality and grow a thick, impenetrable shell around the real, sensitive, cheerful version of me from peacetime. Beneath that shell, I’ve hidden all the feelings that are too painful to endure right now. So painful that they could be unbearable. But I must survive. I must work, be a pillar of support for my family, and a reliable home front for my husband, who serves in the military.

I once believed in victory and thought that we would rejoice and celebrate. Now, I think it’s more likely that we will grieve and cry a lot—if we even live to see the end of the war.

How can you keep your faith amid an endless stream of bad news? Some of it real, some fake, as Russia, unlike us, has plenty of money to wage an information war. The news is becoming increasingly difficult to analyze and filter.

So, what kind of miracle am I talking about? A small miracle for a big dream — the dream of a family Christmas. In times when you can lose a lot, you realise that the most valuable thing is people.

For my daughter and me, it’s the biggest and warmest holiday, one that must be celebrated with loved ones. The more of us there are, the better. I haven’t celebrated Christmas with my family since the start of the full-scale invasion. But last year, another small miracle happened — instead of not celebrating at home alone, I was with my husband. At that time, he was stationed in Toretsk, a city in the Donetsk region. Now, battles are already raging inside that city. Soon, it will be yet another place wiped off the map by the so-called "Russian Peace." His unexpected return home then was due to a tragic event — the death of a comrade. I only learned about this much later.

This year, he wanted to use the remainder of his annual leave to join me at my family’s Christmas celebration. His commander hesitated for a long time, neither saying yes nor no. But I believed it would work out. I bought groceries for a big festive dinner, baked stollens, and even transplanted a houseplant into a separate pot as a gift for my mom. I also wrote a long not-to-forget list of everything we needed to bring. My daughter said I'd better not prepare so thoroughly, so I wouldn’t be disappointed later. But I replied that I was sending my faith into the universe, and everything would work out.

Then, last week, my husband warned me that it was unlikely he’d get leave, not even for three days, as his unit was planning some operation. Everyone was upset, but I focused on the "unlikely". That wasn’t definitive. So there was still a chance. I kept secretly believing and adding items to my list.

And today, he came home smiling. His commander signed the report for leave! We are going to have a real traditional Ukrainian family Christmas!

That's it. When you expect nothing from life, even the smallest good news becomes a source of joy.