I need to join this vigil – Every Friday – Until the horror ends?

VIGIL IN A SMALL TOWN, by Betty-Ann Xenis, Summerland, BC

The second time we met, it was windy and our candles kept blowing out. It seemed symbolic somehow. Candles, a light in the darkness, being blown out by a force beyond our control. We finally stopped trying to relight them but just stood in the darkness sharing our feelings and singing together. We didn’t leave until the time felt right, when we were finished.

We live in a small town in Canada just over an hour from the Canada-U.S. border; close enough that many of us used to nip across the border for shopping or entertainment; far enough away that we feel protected from the chaos and cruelty raging south of us. Many of us used to be “snowbirds,” heading to the warmer areas of the southern United States. Not so much anymore if ever.

What’s happening south of us is breaking our hearts and making us angry in equal measure. What can we do? Many of us have shifted our shopping habits and are glad to see fruit and vegetables in the stores from Peru and Mexico. We buy Canadian ketchup and try to find Canadian cereals. What else can we do? We are a small Canadian town.

We are protected from the turmoil in many ways. We’re not that important in the global scheme of things. We follow the news, we “like” social-media articles that echo our thoughts, perhaps even send money to help people and groups in the United States suffering under the current government. But what else can we do?

Then Kathleen, in our partner congregation, put up a poster: “Vigil of Hope.” We were to gather by our downtown cenotaph on Friday evening at 5:00 pm, with candles, to share our distress and support each other. The first time we started with six people. Kathleen and Anne had extra candles for those who forgot them. Seven more people came, walking out of the darkness. Some of us knew each other but not everybody. People had just seen the posts and came.

We introduced ourselves, we talked, we read poems and we sang, standing around in a circle in the cold. Some of it was prepared beforehand and some was not. Being together with others in our concern and grief was comforting. Kathleen said she would be there every Friday at 5:00 if people wanted to join her.

The second time it was colder and windier and that’s when the candles kept blowing out. We had about the same number of people, some from last time and some newcomers.  Someone taught us a simple song about unity which we sang twice. Again we shared ideas and feelings. We made plans to bring windproof candles next time, a plan to keep the flickering lights steady in the windy darkness.

Are we making a huge difference in the world? Not really. But in such turbulent times, it is important to care for ourselves and not give in to despair. We need vigils of hope and light to get through the darkness intact until we come out the other side.

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