Dear Ukraine,
I think I’m falling for you. There is a quickening in my heart when I think of you, experience you, and in the past four months I haven’t felt this way for any other country. Honestly, it scares me a little bit. In 12 days I have to leave you, and yes I knew before we met it would be this way, but there have been moments where I’ve felt suspended in time, forgetting this wouldn’t last forever. I could very easily call you home, but I’m afraid to ask the Lord for you because it doesn’t seem to fit in my plan. It’s crazy enough He’s thrown a redemptive, artistic ministry in the mix, but a black, Canadian Midwife who doesn’t know a lick of Ukrainian, making home in your arms, now that’s beyond my wildest dreams.
Why do I love you? Why do I want to stay in this moment forever? Let me tell you the reasons I’ve collected so far…
You are breath-taking. I swear the willow trees whisper stories of old as they sway back and forth, back and forth. The air is cool and crisp yet warm and sweet at the same time, hinting of freshly baked pastries from a thousand bakeries waiting on every corner. Every morning you fill the bushes and fences with birds to sing me awake, and even if the sky plans to pour down that day, somehow the sun still wakes me through the blinds. Your earth is lush and promises growth to whatever is planted within it: beets, berries, cucumbers, carrots, bell peppers of red, yellow and orange, making a rainbow out of the local market stands. And lets not forget the fields out in the country. Who would have ever thought canola oil came from such a beautiful flower? I can barely peel my eyes away from the golden petals, stretched out over the hills. Meadows, marshlands, ponds and the craziest sunsets, I’m trying to figure out if I have actually walked right into a Jane Austen novel or something. It’s so surreal.
You are endearing. People rarely think of the Ukraine as a place to find love and hope but I think you are a hidden gem. You are most certainly a country that longs for something more, something worth living and fighting for. While most countries erect statues of war heroes and fearless leaders, you erect statues of poets—the ones who expressed feelings and ideas that you were moved by deep within. You line your streets, markets, yards and tables with fresh flowers. You keep alive the innocents of roller rinks and playhouses. And oh how I love that your people smile as I pass them by! Sweet little girls with braids and bonnets; old couples walking slowly but still holding hands after years of hard work; young men and women on their way to classes in hopes of a brighter future—all smiling, all sending out wordless messages of, “welcome, we hope you like it here!”
You are curious. Here we are, seven, strange looking individuals from all over America, Canada and Scotland standing out like sore thumbs and all you want to know is how we got here, why we’ve chosen your country and what we hope to achieve while we are here. Over and over (even 5 times in one day) you have invited us in to your office, your classroom, your sanctuary, your home, and your life, to set before us your best china cups with piping hot tea and the most beautiful spread of sweets. We taste-test them all, sip our tea and share about our lives back home, the lessons the Lord has taught us through our sacrifice and how deeply we have grown to love you so. The whole time you listen not only with your ears, but ever so intently with your heart.
You are kind. Besides all the tea-times we have enjoyed, you have been so sweet to take care of us strangers who haven’t even had time to earn your affections. You have made sure that no one is without a bed to sleep in or a chair to sit on. You have provided slippers for us to cushion our feet the moment we come through the door. You have accommodated allergies in your cooking, pulled strings to find us the best doctors, and shown us all the best spots in town to eat and find peace. Person after person has come to our door with healing jam, and warm winter clothing. All the while we stand in awe saying, “who are these people?????” because in America, such kind actions usually come with an agenda.
I can’t wait to find out more about you because you have many layers, I can tell. The pain of communism and rule under the Soviet Union still hang in the balance and of course there are wounds yet to be healed, but I think that’s what draws me to you. You are not perfect and you have a rugged past, but that makes you a prime candidate for redemption and beauty from the ashes. I believe there is a spark here that the Lord is going to ignite into a flame and a blazing fire. I believe that the number of alcoholics in your country will drastically decline and the orphans will find families and homes. I believe that any lingering corruptions among your leaders will be broken and leaders will be raised up who are for the people, not against them. I believe that young girls will be seen as courageous, intelligent, and cherished, not as weak, objects, easy to be taken advantage of.
For years you have wowed the Olympic crowds with your gymnastics—doing flips and twists high up in the air with beauty and ease—but some day, the Lord will display a new kind of beauty and ease in your land. Just as you feel free and unrestricted up on those bars and beams, you will feel free and unrestricted by the Lord God Almighty, your true lover and your true hope.
I hope to come back. When and for how long, I have no sweet clue. But I have fallen for you and while my heart will break when I leave, I won’t be saying goodbye, I’ll be saying see you later. For now lets embrace the next 12 days and see what memories are yet to be unfolded.
Love, Aisha.
P.S. Just in case you didn’t know, we have a song haha. It’s the Painter Song by Norah Jones. I’ll think of you always whenever I hear it.
