“Sunflowers at my Table: War Diaries of a Ukrainian Community”
by Amber Poole
is a passionate and poignant telling of what life is like living under duress in Wartime.
Prior to the Russian invasion of the Ukraine; Amber had been living along side her husband in a quiet Polish village approximately 90 miles from the Ukrainian Border.
Some weeks had passed of taunting and toying with the nonbelligerent and now defending nation of the Ukraine. Lining the Russian-Ukrainian border with heavy ground, motorized and mechanized infantry. Blatantly dishonest, even sociopathically braggadocious in telling the world that he had no intentions of invading, on February 24, 2022; Vladimir Putin’s forces Invaded the Ukraine. The largest attack on a European territory since the Second World War.
The combat erupted. Destroying entire cities. Businesses and family homes reduced to rubble. These events sent Eight Million civilians to evacuate and seek safe passage outside the borders of their homeland.
Amber didn’t hesitate to react. Her and her husband sprang into action by preparing their residence to welcome as many in need of shelter as they could possibly manage.
With caution hurled into gale force gusts, there were no plans made, ground rules established, no eating rations measured, no time. The second that the recently displaced refugees stepped one foot onto Polish soil; there was a home being prepared to accept whoever they could.
While aiding in the facilitation to welcome this mass departure of civilians, they were simultaneously arranging transport from the closest town in the region with a bus station to welcome these wounded souls. All while without a qualified interpreter to assist. Honestly, they responded faster than FEMA.
The war began and by the following day at the house that Amber shared with her husband the population had increased by 40.
Amber seemingly could not manage to comprehend a reply indifferent. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the idea of not sharing what they did have with those in need. She was genuinely at a loss that not everyone was doing the exact same thing. To lend a hand to hold, a shoulder to drop a tear on, even just a finger lifted in service to others. To her, she was just being neighborly.
Sunflowers at my table is a compilation of her correspondence over the years to follow. These writings were inspired by the responsibility felt to document what life was like in these early days of the war. It also served a second purpose in being a method that Amber could use to communicate with her friends and family back in Texas and the United States.
Offering loves ones this regular smoke signal that they were safe and secure additionally functioned as an accurate glimpse to a real-time state of affairs occurring on the Western Ukrainian border opposite Russia. Living in a time where we have become plagued with misinformation delivered to us at rapid speeds; These writings from Amber served as an unfiltered lens that captured the reality on the ground.
The way that Amber describes life in this time is captivating. A beautiful bond formed and newfound, close-knit family that emerged is heartfelt. However, far from the case in the initial period of everyone trying to find their sea legs and adapt to their new accommodation in close quarters. The stories that Amber tells of this period make it inconceivable as to how they managed to make it and impressive how they actually thrived past the point of inspirational to where you are moved. Physically moved to answer a call to better serve God by serving our fellow man.
Amber’s commitment to answer the call of service in this time is sobering. Reflections that follow the digestion process of Sunflowers at my table is an awakening. Any enlightenment inherited from engagement with her story should surely be met with an overwhelming sense of humility. Originating from the question we have to ask ourselves – Can we do better?
Do we have to continue living as we have been? Where we would sooner walk over a dead body in the street than break our visual fixation to a phone. Do we have to continue worshipping idol gods like inflated allegiance to materialism and social media screens?
Disregarding the notion of living up to a level of dedication like hers may be impractical, but is there not one of three-hundred and sixty-five days that we can commit ourselves to give more, care more and do better?
Or for just a few hours out of each day that we would be making an offering to the gods of reality television and the universe that revolves around us; could we not just try be a little more caring?
Or maybe just, try – To a better neighbor?