After I sold my home in Canada, I stayed in Toronto for a few months with my friends Anne and Ihor.  They are Ukrainian Canadians who have hosted many refugees in their bed-and-breakfast.  I enjoyed conversations with lots of these folks.

Before I flew across the ocean to Belgium, I bought a traditional Ukrainian shirt.  It hung in my closet till last night.

Katarina, the welcomer at the Ukrainian church in Gent, had invited me to a Christmas concert.  Yesterday I put on my embroidered white shirt and walked towards the realm of music.

I saw the priest, with whom I had talked a few times.  I had a question:

What do I call you?  “Father”?  “Ivan”?

Those are fine.  So is “Father Ivan”

Good.  I asked.  He answered … with a smile.

A group of musical men came to the stage, with instruments that I called lutes.

They began to sing … mouths wide open, some moving to the music.  The glory of the choral!  I was transported.

Each song was introduced by a member of the choir, different each time.  They held their heads high, the words easily heard without a microphone.

One young man had a long solo.  A resonant voice and a wide open soul.  I told him later that he filled the church.  Such was his spirit.

Here’s one of the songs.  I hope you enjoy the soaring.

At the end, the choir director spoke to us, and a woman translated into English.  Sadly, nine members of the choir were not onstage.  They were on the front lines in Ukraine.

After the concert, my Ukrainian shirt was there for all to see.  I received smiles.  And I gave a few as well …

Thank you, dear Ukrainian lovers of music