I love my country; I love it so much that I hate it.
Being Canadian is a bit difficult these days. That is, unless you love Covid jabs and Justin Trudeau with all your heart. Common sense is seen as dissident thought here, and vaccine-free Canadians are still barely allowed to come back into the country without getting a hefty fine.
Don’t believe me? Check out my experience at the border after coming back from a LifeSiteNews conference.
Orthodox. Faithful. Free.
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I was greeted at the border by a delightful Covid Brown Shirt who confiscated my passport, even after I had passed a customs check, all because he didn’t like my unvaccinated self. When it was made clear that I was a journalist, the agent’s supervisor expressed horror at the thought of any malfeasance being reported to the media. At that point, I won the battle.
At any rate, I am a proud patriot. Whatever it is about this frozen place, I can’t shake my love for the red and white maple leaf and the national anthem that makes my heart flutter a bit.
Most politicians here are demons, and many of them should probably be in jail. This is to say nothing of the group-think psychosis that has gripped so many millions of normal people who suck on the government teat like piglets in a factory farm operation.
“Please, lord Trudeau, give us more jabs! Jab us more! Close the churches, keep us safe! Intersectionality is the way forward! All hail, Justin the Magnificent!”
Joking aside, a lot of people here can’t stand the Ice Queen in Ottawa or his ministers, and it is likely he will be ousted soon. Nonetheless, his influence and the influence of his mentality has done a number on our nation, and it will take a long time to expel the puss of the Trudeau era.
Throughout the past two and a half years of living under arguably the most insane Covid-crazy regime in the developed world, I have had a lot of time to get angry, to become resentful, and to reflect on the virtue of patriotism.
My interior disposition concerning my country has been almost manic at times, as some weeks and months have brought about a veritable undulation between hope and despair. One minute, the truckers are igniting a revival of freedom-loving patriotism; the next minute, Trudeau employs war-time powers to stomp grandma’s head with a Clydesdale—that literally happened when the mounted police cleared out the streets in front of Parliament.
Throughout this time, my family has looked longingly at the free red states in America, especially at places like Florida and Texas. Of course, no state is perfect, and the Covid regime is everywhere, but it cannot be denied that America is not Canada, and Canada is not America.
Last summer, we tried hard to get visas to the U.S. but faced roadblocks that made it virtually impossible.
It’s funny, as we were daydreaming about living in a free state with less snow, our hearts were never really sold on the idea of getting out of dodge. Sure, if Trudeau’s jab-lovers came kicking down our doors and taking our kids away for not tattooing rainbows on their foreheads, we would of course have to escape like refugees. But we are not at that point. Things never got that bad, and they seem to be cooling off.
Not only that, but there seems to be a revival of right-wing populism. And against my better judgment, I find myself hopeful for my country. Hope is a dangerous feeling for a conservative Canadian these days.
So, within the past year, my wife and I firmly resolved to stay and simply embrace the fact that Canada is home.
It is amazing what a change in outlook will do. All of a sudden, Canada wasn’t merely the treasonous nation that was run by a petty metro-sexual dictatrix wannabe.
Canada re-emerged in our hearts and minds as the nation of great heroes who braved ice and snow to forge a path to civilization; the nation of the Canadian Martyrs who spilled their blood to bring the Truth to a savage wilderness.
Our nation was reborn in our family. As a result, roadblocks set up by the regime became opportunities to fight and resist the encroachment of the government in our lives.
Don’t get me wrong, there are days when I am seething mad reading about the next Marxist maneuver coming out of Ottawa, but that feeling of despair and resentment seems to be gone.
I have also had time to cogitate on the virtue of patriotism.
Patriotism is a sub-virtue of honoring your father and mother, as your nation is your patria, your fatherland.
Of course, with all virtues there is a golden mean. So, just as it is the case that we are not required to put up with everything our father does, we are also not required to allow ourselves to be continually abused by our fatherland.
However, if patriotism is a virtue, then that means to grow in love of nation would mean to grow in virtue. And it only makes sense that to grow in virtue would mean I would have to act virtuously, which in turn would mean acting with virtues such as courage and perseverance.
It is easy to hate Canada, to complain about the nation, and to say, “to hell with her,” as this requires no courage. It is quite another thing to allow my heart to beat with the red of the Red Ensign.
If God has placed me here at this time, then there must be a reason. Of course, that reason could be to suffer—Heaven knows I deserve it; we all do. But if I am here to suffer, then I better suffer well, lest I suffer like an effeminate loser.
The Canadian Martyrs had every reason to hate this place—they had a lot more to deal with than a vaccine passport! But it was almost as if the depth of depravity that was present in this country made them love it all the more.
Is there a Christian paradox more striking than loving something all the more because she is utterly unlovable?
So, we march on with our love for this seemingly God-forsaken land, and we endeavor to pray for our politicians and enemies—usually the same people.
God willing, all the heartache and anger that we have offered up will result in a renewal of sanity that I will be alive to see.
[Image Credit: Unsplash]