"It looks like they are all waiting for a train to go home...

but there is no train and there is no more home." (-Misha)

It’s a quiet, wet Sunday. I took a long walk, and just finished some chores, namely cleaning floors and dusting dusty stuff we don’t need. The house smells like Clorox, and there’s a homey, quiet feel that comes when you realize you can choose to do whatever you want. Sure, there are things that NEED to be done, but right now, I can enjoy the luxury of sitting here, listening to some peaceful music while I tap away on my laptop. Ivy, Hannah and Misha’s dog, is napping across the room. Jeannie is at the grocery store. It seems that all is well…only It isn’t.   

I’m 64 years old, but Jeannie and I are living a new and gut-wrenching experience. We’ve never had some of our kids working in a war zone, carrying vital supplies from the EU into a country at war with Russia. We’ve never had family members who have had to leave their home because their city was being bombed and it was no longer safe to stay, and now they live in a church with about 40 other people in a country not their own. We are proud of them all and thankful for what they are doing, but the sting of separation and the possibility of danger is ever-present.

These are new experiences in a new chapter of life. I wish I could say that my heart is at peace, but I can’t. I can say, however, that I am doing my best and do recognize the privilege of sitting in my home and listening to music as I write this when so many have lost their homes and have no idea if their families will ever be reunited, or if they will ever know what happened to their husband or father or son or mother. I do recognize that I am not hunkered down in a cold basement with no food or water, peeing in a bucket while missile strikes explode above me. I do. I really do know that.

So, what do we do amidst this new experience? Here is what I am doing; I am doing whatever I can do. I am doing what I can to support Hannah and Misha as they support those in need in Ukraine. I am spreading the word. I am helping to raise money for refugees and other humanitarian needs. I am sharing stories.

Am I writing this so you will give me a pat on the back? No. It’s what I can do. I am writing these things because we cannot forget Ukraine. Or Syria. Or Myanmar. Or Ethiopia. Or South Sudan. Or Afghanistan. Or Mozambique. It’s too easy to slide back into our comfortable routines as the blinding flashes and chest-thumping explosions of bombs fade away into the recesses of our minds and the variety of latte we want takes precedence over disturbing thoughts of people whose limbs were just blown off. It’s easy to rest in our warm homes while millions of people are displaced around the world and no longer have a home. The number of people displaced right now around the world is approaching 95,000,000 according to the UN refugee agency. I can’t solve that. It’s insurmountable. But I CAN do what I can do.

I’ve received some angry comments when I have spread the word about the injustice of what is happening in Ukraine. Some people are telling me I shouldn’t forget about Palestine. Or Syria. Or the other places I have mentioned. I’m not. But what I am doing is what I can do about a place that is close to my heart. I can’t solve it all. We all need to do something about whatever is close to our hearts.

I’ll never forget when Alexander, my interpreter on the first trip I made to Ukraine in 1992, turned to me as I was leaving Kyiv to return home to Oregon that October afternoon. From across the room, he said to me, “Don’t forget Ukraine.” That statement broke me. I sobbed on the bus to the airport. I sobbed the gut-wrenching kind of sob that boils up from deep inside of you at the realization that I had been living a very self-centered life up to that point and that I didn’t really care about other people, cultures, and nations. I was fully aware that I didn’t care prior to departing on that trip and I hoped that my heart of stone would be replaced by a heart of flesh that cared for other people in other lands. It happened. It happened at that very moment in Kyiv, and I was forever changed. That is why I cannot forget about Ukraine. That is why I must keep reminding those around me of what is happening to a people and a place I care deeply about. That is why I must stand in front of the courthouse Saturday after Saturday, waving my blue and yellow Ukrainian flag. It’s what I can do to help people remember. It’s almost nothing. But it’s something.

That is why now, thirty years later, my daughter who was a newborn in Jeannie’s arms as the plane taxied down the runway in 1992 is now in Ukraine with her Ukrainian husband saving lives one life at a time. That is why I cannot forget Ukraine. That is why I am asking you to not forget Ukraine.

That is why I am asking you to pray for peace and for the people of Ukraine. Please pray and then act; but don’t stop with prayer. Speak up. Help people understand. Crochet a blanket. Buy Ukrainian crafts on Etsy from Ukrainians whose stores have been destroyed. Use your social media accounts to share accurate information. (I can point you in the right direction.) Donate funds.

There are many reputable organizations doing amazing work. If you want to help Hannah and Misha with what they are doing in Western Ukraine, you can send a donation to my Venmo: @steviethevagabond. You can send a check to Northwest Student Services, LLC, P.O. Box 667, Corvallis, OR 97339. Every penny will go to help them help Ukrainians.

Thank you.

Here are some updates:

Hannah:

“Late Wednesday night, we arrived back in Ukraine after gathering another round of humanitarian supplies in the EU. We distributed everything on Thursday and woke up Friday at 4:00 am to go for another round of vests, gear, and tourniquets. Something about this trip felt more urgent and tense and it crackled in the air between us in the van. We slept about three hours after driving 24 hours and woke up to deliver gear Saturday morning to those in need who were leaving that same day for the eastern part of the country. We hugged them. We whispered in their ear, “Go with God. Come back alive. Go with God.” We delivered gear to mothers and wives. Hugged them. Whispered in their ears, “Take care. I’m sorry we can’t do more. Take care.” We delivered supplies to the train station that recently received an evacuation train from an active bombing area. Misha said, ‘It looks like they are all waiting for a train to go home, but there is no train and there is no more home.’ The last couple of days sliced through me like a knife. Please donate if you can.”

Some good moments lately from Hannah:

• “One of the men we delivered gear to yesterday showed me a video of a place his friend, a soldier was stationed. It was a small hideout, kind of a little shelter in the ground with a sleeping bag. He had been stationed there for several weeks and above the entrance, on a wooden board, he had carved, ‘The Hilton.’”

• “I told Misha recently I thought it was weird that I hadn’t yet seen my favorite stray dog since being in Ukraine, and a couple of days ago, some tiredness and sadness caught up to me and I left the apartment with tears in my eyes and there she was, waddling towards me. She always has perfect timing.”

• “A customs worker handed Misha and me our passports the other night, very late, and said, “This war is terrible, but it brought back the best Ukrainians to their home.”

Misc:

This is Nastya with Misha. Her husband was drafted and deployed and then injured by shrapnel. He was stitched up and he is back fighting on the front lines again. She is living in a refugee shelter with her children and has another one on the way. The pink parcel is one of the mattresses Hannah and Misha were able to provide to the refugee center. The blanket on her arm was crocheted by a sweet lady in Yachats and we were able to get several of them to Ukraine for refugee moms with kids.

The photo below is kind Misha walking home a confused fellow who needed help late the other night. This is at the end of a marathon day of driving and working and not sleeping, and Misha still took the time to assist this precious man. Thanks, Misha.

So, the end of the matter is this…fear God, keep His commandments, and don’t forget Ukraine. Do what you can do. Thank you so much.