In it for the long haul

I don’t even know where to begin when describing what has happened this past weekend in Ukraine or even how I feel about it all. I guess I am still (and forever will be) processing it and trying to grasp the how, why, when, and what to do questions that surface on anyone’s mind when they’ve encountered something overwhelming.
I’ll start by explaining why we went at all and the basics of what we did from Friday morning when we left till Monday night when we arrived back home. In the city of Chernivtsi, Ukraine there is a woman working to further the existence of occupational therapy and support /aid mothers and their disabled children. The American students, Dorothy, Elena (she was my language teacher earlier in the year), and I went to encourage her and try and help her out in any way possible.
On the trip there, we stopped several times to stretch our legs and prevent the stiffness that comes with long (10 hour) car rides. My favorite stop was the largest and most famous gorge in Romania. It was GORGEous! Hahaha. Really, it was. Dorothy dropped us off at the mouth of it and we walked about a kilometer through, along a road that twisted and curved with a creek alongside it, the miles-high cliff sides climbing on either side of us. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It felt like something you dream of, or read about in a fantasy novel, or maybe see in a magazine (knowing full well that it was tailored by the mouse-click of someone with way too much skill in creating fake worlds). But no. All real. The stream gurgled on the side of the road and my brain couldn’t decide which to watch: The sparkling spring water flowing flawlessly over smooth, green rocks and forming wells of water that were all-too-tempting to jump in to…or…The walls of the gorge covered in moss and reaching so far up that my neck had to strain back in order to see the top and pick up the view of the fuzz that was actually trees sticking out of the sides and gracing the top. Thankfully the road lasted long enough that I could drink in both views for plenty of time. That stop in itself made the trip worth the long trek. Little did I know what was to come…
Friday night we met with our friend and spent some time getting to know her at dinner. She is a great lady, full of passion and vision. It was inspiring just being around her and her excitement for progress was contagious. It was clear to me that God was working some pretty awesome things into her life right now. As she said “it’s the season of miracles.” “Wow” I thought to myself, “what did I get myself into.” The type of “what did I get myself into” that just means it’s not what you expected and there is definitely something bigger and unknown behind it. The kind that makes me anxious and itch with excitement. God is at work there, that’s for sure.
We stayed in a Young Life facility there and that was great. I never could have imagined that I would get to experience Young Life in another country. I was so blessed by that. Upon meeting the leaders, I was told “Welcome! Any Young Life-er is a friend of ours and the rest of you have to work on that one.” I laughed to myself at how familiar and remnant of my past experience with Young Life that greeting felt. It felt like a piece of home in a way. I sat in on a club for a few minutes and laughed at the skit that made absolutely no sense in Russian and again took comfort in feeling like God spreads so very far and wide. I know it’s strange to find that in a skit that’s really rather pointless, but it’s true. I found my appreciation of Young Life grew a lot through witnessing it’s overarching message of love in a country where I couldn’t even understand it. Again, really cool.
Saturday we helped, which really just means participated, in the club (that this woman I’ve been talking about) started for the disabled and their mothers. It was really such a blessing. Volunteers from Young Life came and ran the club. They were incredible. Again, their compassion and love was visible and tangible. They were so excited about planning and running the club, so happy to have time with the kids and love on them. So good at what they did. We had craft, singing, games, skits, food, and more throughout the duration of the club. I again felt so encouraged and inspired simply by witnessing such a life-changing and joy-giving ministry.
On Sunday came events that I can only attempt to portray, but I know that I do so poorly because you just can‘t grasp it from reading. I don’t say that to belittle those who haven’t experienced it firsthand, I only say it as warning to those who choose to read on. We visited two institutions run by the government. One was a nursing home and the other a home for the disabled (mainly boys and men). The nursing home held over 100 patients and the other one over 70. I was shocked by what I saw here. I had read and talked about institutions before, but never again should I claim to know something before I’ve experienced it myself. The people in these homes managed to capture my heart and break it at the same time and all in only a few hours time. They were so isolated and alone, so needing love. Their conditions were awful. No running water at one of the facilities, and seemingly none at the other. It stunk and you could feel the filth hanging in the air and lingering on the patients. The saddest part was how few staff were in each place and how little attention each individual was paid. Hardly any. It could hardly be said that they were treated as people at all. Yet they were so sweet. Talking to us in a language we could mutually understand; kisses, stares, smiles, grabs. A part of me broke Sunday and along with it, the dam holding back tears did as well. I cried the majority of the day, replaying scenes from both places over and over. My world came flooding over me in all it’s ugliness and I questioned all that I stood for and defended formerly, up to that very day. The meanness and cruelness of it all thrust itself under my nose and asked whether I could take it. The answer to that question remains to be answered. My own selfishness has slapped me in the face time and time again since then. Here is where the “how?”, “why?”, “when”, and “what to do?” questions started. God’s still molding that clay. Right now it just feels like wet dirt. Heavy, ugly, uncomfortable, unproductive, and shapeless. Where do I go from here? I think that is a question only time and prayer will answer. God only knows. Praise Him for knowing though, I’d be completely lost if there wasn’t that truth to hold on to.