04/13/2026
This year Easter came twice, and I didnāt quite know where I belonged.
In Canada, it had already passed. Back home, in Ukraine, it was just beginning.
Somewhere in betweenā¦ I felt a little disconnected. From the celebration, from the meaning, even from the moment.
We had plans. Kids, noise, friends and a full house.
Life shifted, as it does. Things fell through.
And I found myself feeling quietly sadā¦ like something I was looking forward to just dissolved.
I didnāt feel like celebrating.
But my husband gently started anyway.
He didnāt say much, just began preparing, laying things out.
And somehow, that small act and his invitation pulled me in.
At first, I didnāt really care what I was creating.
Like starting from a blank page when nothing comes.
You just move your handā¦ and see what happens.
And then something shifted.
The process slowed me down.
The wax, the patterns, the care it takes...you canāt rush it.
And without noticing, I dropped into this quiet, almost meditative space.
What came through wasnāt perfect or traditional.
It was softer. More intuitive.
Angels, hearts, āŠ„ŃŠøŃŃŠ¾Ń Š²Š¾ŃŠŗŃŠµŃāā¦
and then, simply peace.
Not as a word. As a feeling.
Warmth in the chest.
A sense that, somehow, everything is held.
Like still water you can look at forever.
Quiet. Whole. Enough.
And I realizedā¦
this is what my heart has been longing for.
Not just for me.
For my family, friends scattered across continents.
For people I know, and people I donāt.
For everyone, wherever they are, whatever theyāre going through.
Maybe peace doesnāt come from the outside.
Maybe itās something we touch in small, unexpected momentsā¦
when we allow ourselves to slow down and feel.
