I’m Out of My Little American Box

Last July, I jumped on a plane to Ukraine.

Need I say more?

For those of you who have never been to Ukraine, do not live in Ukraine, and didn’t even know that it was a country (a common mistake), it’s not exactly what a sheltered American girl would call “home.” The crazy, car-filled streets of the main city Kyiv, terrified me. Marshutkas(little buses) are everywhere. There are metros that are filled with people walking, standing, pushing, shoving and breathing down each other’s backs as the trains came to unbalanced, careening stops. The only thing that seems to be stationary in the tangled up city are the old babushka’s sitting on the side of the streets selling anything they could grow from their own resources. I was in un-chartered territory, and it felt like I had gone back in time. I was afraid that any move I made would be a wrong one. I tried to stay close to any member of the Colker family in case something drastic happened. For instance, a Ukrainian coming up to ask me something in which all I could do in reply was say “I don’t understand” in broken Russian. However, Ukraine did intrigue me, as I witnessed its landscape and the remains of its rich history. In my free time I was taken to almost every corner of the city of Kyiv, to the old orthodox churches and monuments. Street upon street of paintings, stunning architecture and dozens of statues of anyone who was ever important in Ukraine. Onion-domed churches of bright colors speckle the city. In the center of Kyiv, men stand with monkeys and birds, just waiting for the unsuspecting American to walk into their path, and startle them by thrusting an animal onto their shoulders and taking their picture, all for the privilage of gaining a little American money. I was taught not to utter a word within even ten feet of these people. Flowers grow everywhere in Ukraine. Roses simply sprout from the ground and in the richest of colors that, in America, would take almost constant attention to grow as beautifully. Miles upon miles of bright, yellow sunflowers fields cushion the long highways that wind endlessly through the flat countryside and rolling hills of Ukraine. Everything was so different and new. I found it hard to say much as I experienced these new things – simply taking it all in was enough.

Things that are different are not always easy, despite them being exciting for just a little while. As I was trying to grasp the flow of the culture, I was simultaneously saddened by the weight of the atmosphere. I saw how the people are learning to live without the eye of the government hovering over them, with its iron hand controlling their every move. So many people are still left in the dark, living day-to-day just trying to pay for one meal, only to worry about the next. The streets are broken apart, constantly under slow construction and are strewn with rising, red, dust. Many children run about free, but forgotten. Strong, and resilient Babushkas refuse to be helped with anything and seem to be all the backbone that Ukraine has left from before the Orange revolution.

There was actually some political excitement while I was there. This is the center of Kyiv. Most people were rooting for the freedom of Ukraine apart from Russia.

I visited with the Colker Family(www.colkerfamily.org), who just moved to Ukraine about a year ago, to be a full time missionaries with YWAM. The sacrifice they made in leaving America to do God’s work and the courage it must have took, amazed me. That month I spent in Ukraine changed me in ways that only God could orchestrate. I visited an orphanage in Mucachevo, and helped at a disabilities camp in Zhitomer. I was able to see just how incredible the hand of God is, and the faith it takes to be His hands and feet. I also saw how ripe Ukraine is for the harvest. Missionaries are virtually flocking to Urkaine in droves, just becuase of the huge mission feild, and the many opportunities available to serve in this country. “The Harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few”(Matthew 9:37).

The orphans left such a lasting impression upon my memory that not a day goes by when I do not think of them – of their faces lighting up with joy as they saw us. They surrounded us, wanting to touch us and be with us. They came immediately, pouring from every direction, running to us with broad smiles. The kids were not shy about introducing themselves, and holding our hands. The language barrier was hardly even a problem! They were just so happy to see us and yet many of us they had never even met!

Greg immediately had a child clinging to him on each arm. I soon had a couple to myself, and towards the end of our week with them, it never failed that three or four were hanging on us at one time.

They greeted us literally with open arms! Just being with them was all they desired; to hang onto us, to smother our face with kisses, to play with our hair, or even to wipe their runny noses on our arms. The smell and residue of feces, scabs, and dirt on the kids was evident. I was horrified that these kids were held in such condition, and grieved for their futures, and for the little hope they have in a society that barely has the ability to feed them adequate nutrition.

This is “little Tanya.” She is adorably six years old, and likes to be held more than anything. Though she rarely speaks, her eyes say a million things.

The Disabilities camp taught me more about myself than I could describe in one paragraph. Though physically, or mentally disabled, those kids have some of the most visibly strong and courageous spirits of resilient beauty than any I have ever seen. They are poor on the outside but they are eternally blessed in spirit(Matthew 5:3). Though disabled physically and sometimes mentally, they are wiser about the important and deeper things in life than many normal people. I admire their inner beauty and I find comfort that even though they live in a society that puts them away in a hole, abandons them, and treats them as less than human, will in heaven, be the pillars of God’s strength and beauty. Ukraine again just doesn’t have the resources to care for these children, and often, the fathers leave the mothers struggling just to survive on their own. However, it looks as though some light is being shed on them. It seems that Ukraine’s president, Victor Yushchenko, sees their need, and wants to help them. Obviously a huge praise to be thankful for!

In the picture, Dema is six years old and has Down Syndrome. I got to take care of him every morning, and each day, he became more and more outgoing.

Here are some of the older kids playing a game together.

Though difficult at first, the time I spent with the orphans and the disabled children proved to open my eyes to not just the brokenness in Ukraine, but everywhere there is an absence of God in the world. It’s heart wrenching. God also used this time when my heart was the most vulnerable, to change me the most. It is said that the missionaries who go to do work for God’s Kingdom, are changed and blessed more so than the people the missionaries came to serve. We reap what we sow. God was teaching me exactly what it would take for me to be a missionary. I knew that it wasn’t going to be easy if I persisted to do everything my way with my own ideas of perfection and control. In fact, it would be near impossible to do anything for God’s glory, if I insisted on doing things my own way, by my own effort. He taught me to let go. By the grace of God, that is true freedom.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast”(Ephesians 2:8-9).