Wild Swans of China

I just finished reading a book featuring the lives of three generations of Chinese women who lived during the tumultuous 20th century. The book is Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang, 1991. The author is the woman of the third generation of "Wild Swans"--the title being associated with the meaning of their Chinese names.

The book is riveting partly because of how breathtakingly idealistic, yet clear-eyed and competent the characters are in the face of incredible duplicity and charades of noble cruelty around them. The principled behavior of the author's father is examplary, especially amazing because of his apparently never having been exposed to any absolute written standard of morality. He joined the Communist party after he began to see it as the answer for lifting up the poor of China whom he had empathy for, although he was not one of them. When Communism took a cruel and illogical turn, he refused to change with it and protested against it directly to Chairman Mao. Because he had been second in command in his provincial government he had many opportunities to make friends in that position. But he came to lament that he did not remain a nobody. Along with the privileges of being an official and having many friends, he suffered intensely when the tides of party power turned against him for his refusal to cooperate blindly with orders from headquarters.

In Jung and her mother and grandmother, I see many characteristics I can identify with. The idealism, the curiosity, the love of literature, even the boldness when I know what is right (which is probably no more encouraged in women from my background than it was in theirs) are part of who I am just as it was part of who they were.

I feel now much like I felt immediately after our first child was born. I saw our baby's complete helplessness and dependence on others for safety and sustenance, and realized, with a good deal of emotion, that many mothers who felt as loving toward their child as I did toward mine, did not have the means to provide their child with the most basic necessities. I cried then for the pain of those other mothers. Now I weep for the pain of women like me in China whose lives were so wretchedly torn and stained because they had the misfortune to be born in a place and time where lies and cruelty were the order of the day. . . and the weeks and months and years and lifetimes.

Right now I feel deeply grateful for a way of knowing what is true. I have the benefit of living among people who care about living out the truth, and who can help keep me from straying into runaway idealism that is separated from reality. My curiosity can be directed toward worthy subjects and objects, my courage toward worthy causes, and my love of literature toward a greater understanding of life and truth.

With the aid and grace of God I can be sure that the end of life will not bring disillusionment for me, but affirmation and confirmation. I wish for my Chinese brothers and sisters the same assurance, especially now that I've seen how much they are willing to sacrifice in its pursuit.