Travel Days:
On the 31st of July we stayed the night in the Dublin airport, had a 4pm flight to Istanbul, Turkey, stayed the night at the Istanbul airport, caught our flight to Kiev, Ukraine at 6:55am, spent the day in Kiev, got on the train at 8pm and begun our 16 hour train ride to Uzhhorod. We arrived in Uzhhorod around 12 noon.
Good morning! I woke up to the mountains (On the train).
Nehemiah International was our home for the month (my team and team Aletheia):
Team Aletheia’s ministry work was with the kid’s day camp at Nehemiah while my team was ‘on call’ for any job that was needed.
Can your prayers be the words I was unable to speak, unable to communicate due to the language barrier? Can your prayers bridge the gap that prevented my team from delivering hope to the hopeless?
For much of our month in Ukraine we were positioned to encourage the body of Christ. We did this by serving at churches, through prayer walks, by cleaning and doing construction work at churches,
organizing and leading VBS programs at various churches and gypsy villages,
speaking at a youth service and leading worship,
Feeding program at a gypsy church,
and praying over and speaking life into pastors and leaders in churches.
We were usually with those who already possessed knowledge of Christ, at English camps with people who we could at least speak some English and partially communicate with, or we were with translators.
August was a phenomenal month.
But there were two days in Ukraine that left me restless, 2 days that, for a while, I wished I could erase.
For 2 days out of the month we had the opportunity of visiting an orphan camp, a camp where children from 4 different orphanages come and stay for the summer. I was reluctant of going, and after leaving the camp I regretted it all the more.
Ignorance is bliss?
Obviously, before we visited the camp we were ignorant of these children, ignorant of their lives in the orphanage. My ignorance of them was, in a sense, bliss … but my ignorance of their lives and what they face day to day benefited them none.
We weren’t supposed to go to the orphan camp. We were under the impression that it wasn’t going to work out for us to go. Our days were booked. Many were disappointed; I exhaled relief.
But then, just as it had happened every day that month, our expectations of what the day was going to look like were not met. I can’t think of a single day last month that we did the ministry work that we were told we were going to be doing. We got used to the inconsistencies fairly quickly. And so, somehow it ended up working out for us to go.
Ignorance is bliss? This is not always the case.
In this case perhaps ignorance would have preserved my heart from breaking and prevented the tears from being shed, but me being ignorant of these children whom I have embraced those two days, their lives that I’ve learned about: the education that they will not get, the future they will not have, and the dreams they possess which will most likely stop short from becoming a reality … ignorance would not have awakened the hope.
Two days of our month in Ukraine we spent 4 hours, from 10am-2pm, with these children, trying to communicate bible stories to them through their lack of attention and by an interpreter who didn’t fully understand. We colored with them, we hugged them, we held them, we walked hand in hand, played games with them, listened to them talk about their lives even though we couldn’t understand. We loved them, we did. We loved them to pieces, the best we could. We loved them through the aggression, through the smells, through the frustrations of not understanding each other’s language, through the discomfort of them touching all over us, sticking their hands in my hair, and their lack of respect for personal boundaries.
We loved them with everything we had in us, but there was one thing that left me unsettled and I know I wasn’t the only one.
I was sitting at the orphan camp with a sweet boy named Victor while he sewed colorful thread into a piece of cloth to make a picture of the Ukrainian flag. I sat there with mine in hand trying to figure it out, glancing at him flying through it as if he did it often. He is 13 years old. He looked over at me and noticed my foreignity to this project. Taking it out of my hands he started it for me and then proceeded to show me how to do it. He watched to make sure I was doing it correctly and continued to correct me until I caught on. For the next 2 hours we sat there as he worked on his and I worked on mine. Each time I was about to start a new line I got confused, Victor noticed immediately and took it from me and showed me how to continue. He walked me through step by step. He was so patient with me.
I didn’t care about the threaded flag project or finishing it. I just enjoyed sitting with Victor as he taught me and attempted to introduce me to his friends as they walked by, and protected me from the children who didn’t believe that my hair was my own and had to see for themselves.
Anyways, the entire 2 hours while sitting with Victor, I was trying to think of a way to tell him about Jesus, about His love and how Victor can know Him, but I couldn’t. I tried at one point but he didn’t understand; he just looked at me strangely then continued on with his flag.
It wasn’t long before it was time for him to go in for lunch and I would be leaving soon. I didn’t think I would see him again so I said goodbye and gave him a hug. His eyes got really wide; he gave me a quick hug then ran inside for lunch. No more than 4 minutes later he was running back out. He sat down next to me and made sure my flag project was still coming along. When I asked about lunch, in his broken English, he told me that he just ate it and was finished. We sat there in silence and continued on with our flags.
Friday, when we first arrived, a group of 5 girls came up to me; they were among the older age group of children, maybe 15-17 year olds. There was one who kept coming up to me throughout the day, whose name I couldn’t pronounce for the life of me. She didn’t speak any English; so each time she came to me I held her tight and prayed over her, she would laugh and hug me back then just stand with me. Later she brought me a paper origami flower that she had made for me (which was eventually stolen from me by a different child, drawn on, passed around as a gift to other Americans, had something disturbing happen to it, then ultimately eaten by one of the boys … strange, I know). The next day when I arrived she spotted me through the crowd, grinned, and managed to be the first to greet me with a hug. Dema wasn’t far behind her.
Dema was a 9-year-old boy with the brightest blue eyes. I was first introduced to him on Friday when he spotted me from the distance, came up to me, stretched his hands up to my shoulders so that I could pick him up, then just held onto me for the longest time while I carried him. He was the lightest 9 year old; he weighed practically nothing. He would do this off and on all day, going between me and another girl, giggling, giving kisses on the cheek. He just wanted to be held.
And there was Christina who would grin from ear to ear each time she saw me. She would greet me with a hug and then just stand next to me smiling with our arms linked. After the children went in for lunch, she came out running to give me her apple.
Grrrrrr…. Leaving those kids was by far the most difficult thing I had to do last month.
When Victor understood that I was about to leave and that I wouldn’t be returning the next day, he took off one of his bracelets and gave it to me. He waited until right before we left to give me a hug, then he stood waiting, as I was about to drive away to make sure he said goodbye again. There was a mob of children surrounding us and clinging onto us as we got into the taxis.
Where was Victor?
I didn’t see him.
As the taxi began to pull out I saw him amongst the mob searching eagerly for me. The windows in the taxi were tinted. I quickly rolled down the window and when he spotted me I could see the relief in his eyes and a smile sprung on his face. He waved to me until I couldn’t see him any longer. You should have seen his face when he found me.
Heart wrenched.
I couldn’t hold back the tears our entire 45-minute ride back to Nehemiah. I wished I had never gone. I wished I had never met those children. I wished I had never seen their faces or heard their stories. I wished I had never learned about what their lack of future most likely will look like.
What can I give them if I can’t give them what I have?
Like I mentioned before, I was reluctant about going to the orphan camp, and honestly, even after leaving there, I did greatly regret it. Don’t get me wrong; I absolutely loved the experience and loving on those kids who were so desperate for affection. But, in situations like those I always feel that we are actually hindering instead of helping. Those kids constantly have people walk into their lives for a period of time, and then walk right out. We came to love on them thinking we were doing a good thing, but I can’t help but question whether or not we are showing them the love that they need or if we are actually just feeding into their lack of trust for people, knowing not to rely on or open up to anyone because they’ll never be around for very long?
Does that make sense?
Did us being there benefit them at all? Or did we just bring them more pain? What did we leave them with that they can hope in?
Have we told them about Him? Have we done more than tell them stories to keep their attention and pass the time? Have we left them with something tangible, a tangible experience with the Father’s Love and knowledge of the Truth that father and mother may leave them but God never will (Psalm 27:10)? Do they now know that Christ has come to give them a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11)? Do they know that there is someOne Who loves them so much that He even keeps track of the number of hairs on their head (Luke 12:7; Matthew 10:30)? Do they know that although people might not notice them, that they are the apple of God’s eye (Zechariah 2:8)? Do they know the thoughts He thinks toward them and that they are good (Psalm 139:17-18). Did we leave them with a reason to hope and knowledge that they have a future in Christ? Did we truly love them?
It pains me, but I cannot honestly say that we did.
I struggled with these thoughts for a couple of days.
I was talking to God about how disgusted I was with everything that I had just shared with you, and about how I cant stand the thought that we possibly have to do this for 8 more months.
Then He reminded me of something …
(I love the peace that comes when He speaks.)
I believe in the power of prayer. He reminded me that "The earnest (heartfelt, continued) prayer of a righteous man makes tremendous power available [dynamic in its working]." -James 5:16b (AMP)-
He reminded me of the tremendous impact that can come to their lives, through our prayers, even though we most likely will never see them again. He reminded me of His desire for them and that He still has a future and a plan for them. He reminded me of our call to intercede for others. I thank Him that He reminded me to pray. And I’m asking you to pray, to sincerely pray for these lives, for their futures that don’t exist, for families to love them which otherwise they most likely will never have, for a life changing encounter with the unconditional Love of their heavenly Father. Please pray.
"So neither he who plants is anything nor he who waters, but [only] God Who makes it grow and become greater." -1 Corinthians 3:7-
"Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord of hosts." -Zechariah 4:6-
“Although my father and my mother have forsaken me, yet the Lord will take me up [adopt me as His child].” –Psalm 27:10-
