March 2, 2022

As you know, we live in a small but growing town in Southern Ontario. At the north end of the block on which we live, is a property that holds the local Catholic church. The building is situated with its front doors facing the next street over, but the plot of land attached stretches to our street. The church has stood there since 1857 when it replaced a wooden frame building opened twenty years previously. By the time we first moved in, directly on the other side on the cross street that intersects ours stood a Catholic elementary school that bore the same name as the church.

That school was replaced about ten years ago by a brand new one, built a few miles to the west, and given the same name as the one it replaced. The building that used to be the school across from the church was sold by the diocese and is now a home for severely impaired people.

The church enjoyed a nice expanse of lawn, that extended east from our street to the building’s back wall—an expanse that stretched more than half a block in length. This lawn was dotted with high, stalwart, beautiful pine trees. And in the course of the last several months, beginning sometime mid-summer, those beautiful trees were hewn down, and the ground they stood upon is now being excavated. The powers that be connected to the church have decided to add a parish hall to their plot of land, and construction on the new building will begin soon.

So far, what I can tell you is that I knew immediately what it was I was feeling earlier this week. They’re still in the process of digging for the foundation and basement, you see, and there have been excavators and one of those large “earth rollers” that vibrates and yeah, that sick, deep in the bone vibration as that roller tries to shore up whatever it is that it’s shoring up is a sensation I only felt once before. I had really, really hoped that would have been the only time I would experience that.

That previous case, you may recall occurred when the town finally undertook to have long-needed repairs done to the road that runs east-west and is less than thirty feet from my living room window.

The only good thing about the sensation this time is the vibrations don’t seem to be making me feel sick like they did the last time. That’s likely due to the offending machine being a solid half a block away from me instead of just outside my window.

I usually begin to compose my Wednesday’s Words on the day before I post them. Occasionally I procrastinate until the morning of, but not often. There are times when I’m sorely tempted—or at least briefly consider—writing a number of them in advance, in order to have them at the ready. But I never know if doing that will jinx me, or not. But once in a while, I do begin one several days ahead of schedule and I think that is more often than not a mistake.

For example, I might start writing my essay about something maybe a little bit silly that’s happening in my life, and then, wham, a damn war breaks out in Europe, and I would have to begin all over again.  But, I suppose the most economical thing to do would be to just start a new paragraph.

I have a dear friend, one I met in 6^th grade, who is Ukrainian-Canadian. She has a lot of family over in Ukraine and has been beside herself with worry since it became known that Russia was amassing troops on her family’s ancestral homeland.

Leading up to this unprovoked, totally evil attack, when the troops were gathering on Ukraine’s borders, pundits were divided on whether or not an attack would actually happen. Some thought the buildup was just an elaborate bluff. That, my friends, was yet another case of witless souls not only possessing a failure of imagination, but the unfortunate tendency to believe a documented liar’s lies.

When, oh when, will we recognize the liars on the world’s stage and treat them with the derision they deserve? But I digress.

Of those who believed an attack was inevitable, most believed that the “vaunted” Russian military would easily defeat the Ukrainian Army, likely in a day. I didn’t think that, because these are people who’ve been suffering from aggression from their eastern neighbor forever, but more violently for the last eight years after Russia’s initial invasion of Crimea. And in the time since then, their sense of nationhood and their belief in their right to be a nation has only increased. Their army has become seasoned. And their will to exist as an independent country has solidified.

As the bombs continue to rain down on a people who have done nothing to deserve such horrific treatment, I am praying for the protection of the most vulnerable, and the continued empowerment of those people, military and civilian, who have taken up arms and are defending their homeland—alone.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury