a stranger in a strange land

  The headline was unfamiliar, written in Cyrillic, and I wondered what it said.  В Україні триває війна.  A rogue leader of a country, with no regard for the number of lives that would perish because of his ego and arrogant actions.

  I thought about the summer I went to Paris when I was a teenager, still reeling from my parent's divorce.  I didn't speak French, and even though I was with my classmates, I was still an outsider in another country. Would I have been able to cope with all of the emotions of my country being under attack, losing my home, possibly my family, and becoming a refugee in a foreign country?

  There was a small country parish church I often drove past, surrounded by pine green trees and hidden in a small valley.  I planned to go there to pray for peace for Ukraine.  For some, the thought of praying for a country might seem like a foolish waste of time, but I was feeling overcome with emotion for the children of Ukraine.  For the lost future of generations.

  Моліться за нас, моліться за наше майбутнє. Для дітей. Для сімей. Моліться за нашу країну.  Looking at the petitions for prayer seemed like reading secret messages or taking new orders from some Mission Impossible movie.  

  Perhaps if we all pray for peace.  For the children.  For the families.  Perhaps the world could change for them.  For us.

Participating in Words for Wednesday here.