I believe this was the article Alderperson Siebers referenced: https://news.yahoo.com/ukrainian-mother-thanks-slovakian-police-083539263.html
Mayor Woodford: Tonight’s invocation will be delivered by Alderperson Siebers.
Alderperson William Siebers (District 1): Thank you, Your Honor. When Mary sent out the invitation to do the invocation for tonight’s meeting, I quickly accepted the offer without any idea what I would share tonight. It is then it dawned on me that this is Women’s History Month, the month in which we celebrate women’s contribution to history, culture, and society. But then the questions became, who should I highlight and what should I highlight? And then with my questions in mind, I met two women. One through a news story and one through my daily devotional reading. Two women most do not know and who are not ones we would recognize during Women’s History Month. But yet two very special women.
The news story is that of a mother who has an 11-year-old son. She is a widow and she’s taking care of her elderly mother who is limited in her mobility. For a brief moment place yourself in this woman’s shoes. Now place yourself living in a country that has been invaded by a foreign power, and your city which is close to a nuclear plant is being bombed daily. You worry about the safety of your family–people are fleeing your city–but your decision to flee is difficult because your mother is not in a condition where you can get up and join were you to decide to flee. And yet you greatly worry about the safety of your son. What do you do? If you stay it is likely you will not survive. But you can’t just leave your mother. So, you decide to put your son on a train all by himself. Before he gets on a train, holding back your tears as best as you can, you give him a hug, you tell him you love him, you tell him to be strong, and that one day you will be together again. You say this knowing that there is a good chance you never will be.
Now put yourself in the shoes of that 11-year-old boy. You’re on a train packed with strangers. You find yourself sitting next to the window with your face squeezed up against it, and then you see your mother. You see that she is crying, and with innocence you struggle to understand why someone wants to kill your family and the people of your city and your country. After more than a 600-mile journey you reach your country’s border with Slovakia. All you have are the clothes on your back, a plastic bag with a passport, and a phone number written on your hand.
For my invocation tonight I want to share with you the words of a Christian poet laureate Ann Weems who once wrote:
I no longer pray for peace.
I pray for miracles.
I pray that stone hearts will turn
to tenderheartedness,
and evil intentions will turn
to mercifulness,
and all the soldiers already deployed
will be snatched out of harm’s way,
and the whole world will be
astounded onto its knees.
I pray that all the “God talk”
will take bones,
and stand up and shed
its cloak of faithlessness,
and walk again in its powerful truth.
I pray that the whole world might
sit down together and share
its bread and its wine.
Some say there is no hope,
but then I’ve always applauded the holy fools
who never seem to give up on
the scandalousness of our faith:
that we are loved by God…
that we can truly love one another.
I no longer pray for peace.
I pray for miracles.”
To those who hear my words tonight, while we are praying for peace, let us also pray for miracles. Amen.
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