This post is part of my archive series—migrated from my old blog and originally written on the day Russia invaded Ukraine. These are reflections from that deeply personal and difficult moment in history.

So This Means War

And just like that, the world got a little harder to bear overnight.

This morning, we woke to the news that Russia began bombing Ukraine. The weight of it hit instantly—two countries my family comes from, now in conflict. I have so many thoughts and feelings, but before I could spiral, I knew I needed to step out into the sunshine, camera in hand, and spend some time with Jesus.

I went out, but quickly realized that walking through the city with a full and heavy heart isn’t always the balm I expect. I was praying, I was taking pictures, but my spirit wasn’t settling. It felt like I was holding my breath, and nothing in the city helped me exhale. Usually, walking brings peace and surrender. But this time, the city felt indifferent—like nothing mattered except its own ambition.

I think I needed quiet, stillness, a quiet neighborhood street to help me process and breathe.

After an hour of wandering, I got a call from Tín. He needed to stay late for drama practice, so we agreed I’d meet him at his school. I arrived an hour early—and I’m glad I did. While I waited, I bought a plant (because that’s what I do when I’m overwhelmed) and spent some time learning more about my Fujifilm X100V. I keep discovering new things about this camera, and it somehow made me feel a little lighter. That quiet moment of waiting helped me hand things back to God.

I’m thankful for the gift of praying in tongues—for when words won’t come, but my spirit still cries out. It brought me out of the heaviness and reminded me I’m not alone.

So, what does this mean for me?

My roots are in Ukraine. My grandmother and both grandfathers are from there. I still have a cousin, two half-uncles, and a half-aunt in Dnipro. My dad used to visit them every year, up until Covid made that impossible. These are my people. Ukraine is also Slovakia’s neighbor. And my brother—he’s part of the National Guard, deployed to Europe since January.

This attack hits close. Not just in one way, but many.

I don’t know what the next months will hold. But I have Jesus. And I’m thankful for every single person who is praying.