Post 13/2022 Friday 25 March . . . Music has helped raise spirits and support for Ukrainians facing the unspeakably devastating invasion of their country. In the early days of the war, seven-year-old Amelia Anisovych sang the Ukrainian national anthem while she and her family were holed up in a bomb shelter in Kyiv, a clip of which went viral on the internet. Amelia is now safe with relatives in Poland, where she sang the anthem in front of thousands at a charity concert.
Solidarity in song, doves, sheep and shelter
Below: Amelia Anisovych. Amelia told the BBC, as quoted in the i newspaper (22 March), “I practise singing every day in the morning, afternoon and evening… it has always been my dream to sing.” Doves adorn Madron Parish Church in South West Cornwall, “where villagers have been praying for peace,” reported The Cornishman (10 March).
On Monday (21 March) a Ukrainian mother and her son, who had arrived in Cornwall the previous week, were in Truro to shop for shoes for 12-year-old Akim to go to school. The mother, Tanya, told a newspaper that they felt moved to step into Truro Cathedral, where at the moment the Cathedral choir was singing Ave Maria in Ukrainian in preparation for recording the number for their Mothering Sunday YouTube release. Akim and his mother joined the choir in the rehearsal. “God has led us here today,” Tanya said.
The letters K and L
As noted in previous posts, I’m using the alphabet in weekly blogs to mark our time in Cornwall (when the alphabet comes to an end, so does our winter/spring stay).
K-Keck, or Kex. “A general term for the taller white-flowered umbellifers, most often applied to cow parsley and hog weed.”
Keck, or cow parsley, lines a hedge in one of the last fields we crossed on Thursday on St Michael’s Way.
L-Lament. Desolation calls forth lament, passionate expression of grief or sorrow. I can imagine Ukrainians singing songs of wailing, composing poetic laments, weeping, searching for hope. What can I do but listen? Listening seems so little; prayers of petition too few, hope seemingly invisible. I listen to these enduring words from The Old Testament’s book of Lamentations:
St Michael’s Way
On Thursday we walked a major part of St Michael’s Way from Carbis Bay on the Atlantic to Marazion on the English Channel. Fresh air, clear sky, birdsong, lunch/rest stop at The White Hart Inn in Ludgvan, chat with villager Roy, and a cream tea in Marazion made for nine delightful miles on foot. Returned home by bus.
Opportunities for reflection and prayer abounded all along the way, especially in petition for soon and lasting resolution to the devastating assault on the people and country of Ukraine. God have mercy.
Flowers for Mothering Sunday
Keep on blooming, by the thousands and tens of thousands.