Without claiming for one moment that I know what it’s really like to live in Ukraine, my current work does bring me face and to face with many of the real life stories of some of those who do:
- of the woman whose husband was called up to fight on their wedding anniversary, and was widowed when he was mortally wounded just a few short months later…
- …and another whose husband is missing in action but, because he’s not yet been confirmed as dead, receives no state funded aid.
- of the orphanage deprived of heat, water, and electricity after air strikes denied them access to these basic necessities…
- and the kindergarten destroyed after being targeted by equally heartless enemy attacks.
- of the rural residents who were killed, in the prime of life… when missiles landed as they went about the business in areas far away from any site of military significance,
- of the pastor, killed whilst ministering to those he cared for, who was buried unceremoniously in a back yard far away from those he loved, because there was nowhere else available,
- of the resident of Kharkiv who has grown accustomed to the city she calls home coming under aerial assault, night after night after night
- and the children who can’t understand what’s going on around them who speak of their fears with tears streaming down their face.
And so, as the violence only escalates, and we hear of talks of peace, I can’t help thinking that it’s not the Russian aggressors who should be rewarded.
But then…as some would have you believe…perhpas I’m just being ‘ungrateful’…
…and hopelessly naive to long for a just and lasting peace.
Some musings 