I haven’t posted in a while. Life accelerates, weeks blur together, and sometimes the words don’t come. But every Saturday, whether I post about it or not, we gather. Rain or shine, in summer heat or winter cold, at City Hall in Kamloops, we stand with Ukraine.
And that constancy—that quiet, persistent solidarity—has become one of the anchors in my life.
The Team That Keeps Coming Back
Some Saturdays our numbers are smaller. Other weeks, we’re more visible, flags flying brighter, voices stronger. But the core remains: a dedicated team of people who have made this weekly vigil part of their lives. Not because it’s easy or convenient, but because solidarity isn’t a hashtag or a moment—it’s a commitment.
These are people who rearrange their weekends, week after week, to show up. No matter where I am every Saturday I dedicate one hour to stand with Ukraine. Each of us bring flags—yellow and blue fabric that has weathered seasons of standing. We bring postcards to write messages of support. We bring donations—money for humanitarian aid, supplies for soldiers, support for both international organizations and local Ukrainian families. We bring ourselves, our time, our witness.
And in doing so, we remind ourselves: we are connected. Across oceans, across time zones, across the overwhelming distances that separate Kamloops from Kyiv, we are bound by something stronger than geography.
The Connections That Sustain Us
We are blessed to have among us people who travel to Ukraine—brave souls who go to see firsthand, to help directly, to carry our support into the heart of the struggle. They return changed, bearing stories that statistics can never capture, reminding us why we stand.
We have a mother and son from Kyiv now son living in Kamloops, displaced by a war they never asked for, the son is going to TRU. Mama from Kyiv constantly check on us—can you imagine? They are under daily attack, yet they worry about us, about whether we’re okay, whether we need anything. Their grace humbles me every time and remind me that Kyiv is not that far away.
This is what solidarity looks like up close: not a one-way street of charity, but a web of mutual care, of people holding each other up across all the divides that supposedly separate us.
Between Saturdays: A Whirlwind Week
Just this past week between Saturdays, I attended four conferences: Lviv, Ukraine. Winnipeg. Kamloops. Mantova, Italy. Four cities, four different contexts, crossing continents virtually and travelling in Canada in person and causes in a blur of presentations and conversations that stretched my understanding of our interconnected world.
By the time Saturday arrived, I was exhausted. Part of me wanted to stay home, to rest, to let others carry the vigil this week.
But then I came to City Hall.
The Spirit That Renews
When I arrived and saw our team, our steady, dedicated team, something shifted in me. There was the dedication in their eyes, the strength in their stance, even when they were tired too. There was the care each person brought, manifest in small actions: the careful unfurling of flags, the thoughtful words written on postcards, the quiet conversations checking in on each other.
“How are you doing?” we ask each other. Really ask. Really listen.
We want to make sure everyone who stands with us is okay—not just the people of Ukraine we support, but each other, here in Kamloops. Because solidarity that doesn’t care for its own people isn’t solidarity; it’s performance.
Some Saturdays are smaller. Some of us can’t make it every week—life happens, responsibilities call, bodies need rest. But there’s no judgment, only understanding. What matters is that we keep coming back. That the vigil continues.
We Are Not Alone: A Global Chain of Solidarity
And here’s what sustains me most: every Saturday when we gather in Kamloops, we are part of something vast and beautiful—a global network of solidarity that spans continents and time zones, a human chain of witness that encircles the earth.
In Lisbon, at the same time we stand in Kamloops, others gather with their flags. The same time. The same purpose. Portuguese voices joining Canadian voices in a chorus that transcends language.
In Portland, people walk to the bridge week after week, making visible what bridges us all—the understanding that freedom matters, that democracy matters, that the right to exist in peace matters.
In Ottawa, every single day—not weekly, daily—people gather outside the terrorist embassy. Day after day, in snow and rain and heat, they stand, bearing witness, refusing to let the aggressor’s presence on Canadian soil go unchallenged.
In Montreal, the same daily commitment outside the terrorist consulate. These are people who have woven solidarity into the very fabric of their daily lives.
In Victoria, every Tuesday near Parliament, ensuring their leaders cannot forget, cannot look away, cannot pretend this is someone else’s concern.
In Oslo, daily vigils near both the Norwegian Parliament and the terrorist embassy. In the land of the Nobel Peace Prize, people understand that peace is not passive—it requires active defense, constant vigilance, unwavering solidarity.
Can you imagine the strength it takes? The conviction? The love?
The Math of Global Solidarity
Think about what this means:
- While we gather weekly in Kamloops, others gather daily in Ottawa, Montreal, and Oslo
- While we stand on Saturdays, Victoria stands on Tuesdays, Lisbon on Saturdays, Portland on Saturdays too
- In any given week, there are dozens—perhaps hundreds—of these vigils happening around the world
We are not scattered drops of resistance. We are an ocean of solidarity. We are united across all divides—across distance, language, weather, time, and fatigue.
The Signs of Solidarity Everywhere
And it’s not just those of us at organized vigils. All across BC, I see signs of solidarity. Ukrainian flags in windows. Benefit concerts. Fundraisers. Teachers incorporating Ukraine into their lessons. Students doing projects about the war. Businesses collecting donations. Churches holding prayer services.
Every blue and yellow ribbon, every donation jar at a coffee shop, every conversation about Ukraine that happens because someone took the time to stay informed—these are threads in a larger tapestry of care.
People of Kamloops, you may not stand with us every Saturday, but you stand nonetheless. You prove that a city far from the headlines, far from the front lines, can still matter. Can still make a difference.
And you are connected to people around the world doing the same: standing, giving, caring, refusing to forget.
The Message We Send Together
To the people of Ukraine, our global vigil sends a message that cannot be ignored:
You are not alone. When missiles fall at night in Kyiv, people in Ottawa are standing outside the embassy of the country that launched them. When power goes out in Kharkiv, people in Montreal are at the consulate demanding accountability. When you wake exhausted from another night in shelters, people in Oslo and Victoria and Kamloops and Lisbon and Portland are already planning their next vigil.
The world has not forgotten you. We have not moved on. We have not grown numb. We have not accepted this as the new normal. Every single day, somewhere in the world, people are standing with Ukrainian flags, refusing to let your struggle become invisible.
We are with you in person. Not just in thoughts and prayers (though we offer those too), but with our physical presence, our time, our bodies showing up week after week, day after day.
We are with you in spirit. Across all distances, we carry you in our hearts.
We are with you until victory. Not until we’re tired. Not until it’s convenient to stop. Not until the media coverage fades. Until Ukraine wins. Until every occupied territory is liberated. Until every Ukrainian child can sleep safely. Until victory.
The Hope in Constancy
I may not post every week. Life may scatter me across conferences in seven days. The vigil might be smaller some Saturdays than others. But this I promise:
We will keep coming—in Kamloops, in Lisbon, in Portland, in Ottawa, in Montreal, in Victoria, in Oslo, and in communities around the world whose names I don’t even know but whose solidarity I feel.
We will keep waving flags and writing postcards and finding ways to donate and checking on each other and showing up and standing together.
Because hope isn’t a feeling—it’s a practice. And solidarity isn’t a moment—it’s a choice we make again and again and again, together, globally, united.
An Invitation
To anyone, anywhere, who wants to stand with Ukraine: you are not alone. Join a vigil in your city. If there isn’t one, start one—even if it’s just you at first. Hold a flag. Write a postcard. Donate what you can. Share the truth. Speak the names of Ukrainian cities under attack.
One person standing becomes two. Two becomes ten. Ten becomes a movement.
We are proof of this—from Kamloops to Kyiv, from every city where people stand, we are one.
Until Victory
So this Saturday, when I stand at Kamloops City Hall, I will carry all of you with me:
- The daily warriors in Ottawa and Montreal and Oslo
- The weekly faithful in Lisbon and Portland and Victoria
- Every person in every city who has made standing with Ukraine part of their life
- Every Ukrainian who takes strength from knowing they are not alone
- Our dedicated team here in Kamloops who renew my spirit every week
We are together. We are united. We are global. We are persistent.
And we will stand—in person, in spirit, until victory comes.
Слава Україні! Героям слава!
See you next Saturday at City Hall—and at vigils around the world. 💙💛🇺🇦
From Kamloops to Kyiv, we stand as one.
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