Sweat dripped from my forehead.  The humid Delhi air was almost as stifling as the crowds.

I wandered through the Old Delhi spice market, trying not to gag on the overwhelming smells.  Cinnamon, cardamom, pepper, chili powder, curries beyond number and incense, burning in almost every stall to mask the smell of dumpsters full of rotting garbage.

One of the vendors I met in the Old Delhi spice market.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

As I walked from vendor to vendor, eyes wide at the sheer variety of goods in the market, I began to get lightheaded.  Worried that I might pass out if I stayed there much longer, I started back home.

I walked onto the bustling street, lifted my tiny camera above my head and snapped my last photo of the day.

The shutter clicked and the LCD display flicked on. I looked at the picture I had just taken.

“Huh,” I thought, “Not too bad.”

It was my first genuinely good photo.  Unbeknownst to me, World Next Door had just been born.

A New Purpose

It was the fall of 2008.  I was halfway through my three-month stay in India.  The idea for World Next Door was little more than a few sketches in a notebook.  Literally days after coming up with the idea for a “social justice travel magazine,” I decided I needed to get some practice.

That’s why my little visit to the spice market was so significant.  It was the first time I had ever gone to a new place or had a new experience for the purpose of getting people back home engaged with the world.

You see, at the time, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.  I had received zero training in journalism, had never picked up a dSLR camera and didn’t know where to begin when it came to starting a non-profit.

I had written a lot for my personal blog, taken a few snapshots with my point-and-shoot camera, etc., but as for how to do real journalism?  I didn’t have a clue.

So I struck out into unfamiliar territory, pushed myself outside of my comfort zone a bit and tried to capture what the world is like beyond the suburbs of America.  Not for me, but for you.

Four and a half years later, I’m still figuring things out as I go along.  Sure, I’ve learned a thing or two about photography, written countless articles and told a million new stories since that day in the spice market, but I can never forget how it felt to begin looking at the world through this new lens.

And now, as we head into this new season of World Next Door, I am unabashedly excited.  I don’t know what God has next for this ministry, but I have to say… if what grew out of that simple photograph is any indication, we’re in for a wild ride!

I’ve seen slums in South Africa, rural villages in post-soviet Ukraine, places where I expected to find poverty.

Seeing poverty there, at times I have been strangely unmoved. There is injustice, but it’s expected injustice. It’s another country, an oppressive government, or a terrible past. That’s where injustice is supposed to be.

Coming to work with Shepherd Community Center on the near-east side of Indianapolis, I expected a certain amount of poverty. Anyone who’s been to the city knows there are a few homeless people, a few panhandlers. Perhaps some families struggling with disability or addiction or language barriers.

But what I found here was nothing like what I expected. And I find my heart breaking in a way it never has before.

Tent Town?

My first shock came when I was invited to visit a homeless camp. A miniature tent city right in the heart of Indianapolis.

This blew my mind. Tent city? TENT CITY? Tent cities happened in Haiti and Kenya and warzones and disasters. What were they doing here?

It’s true, the camps in Indy don’t stretch for miles, they’re multiple and dispersed. A dozen under a bridge, a handful in the woods behind a parking lot, a gathering by the railroad.

But they are tents, nonetheless. With winter coming, snow falling and breath freezing, there are people who live in tents.

I never expected to find Indianapolis residents spending the winter in tents.

I thought to myself, “okay, now I’ve seen poverty in Indianapolis. Now I understand the injustice”

But I hadn’t seen the homes yet.

“Housing”

Many of the houses here are older, maybe some peeling pain on the outside, but nothing terrible. They look just a little run down.

But once I stepped inside I saw it was a very different story.

There are houses with decaying walls, molding ceiling, insect infestations, and woefully outdated heating systems. Some have broken plumbing and may periodically fill with the smell of stale sewage. Others are simply depressing, with peeling wallpaper, cracked windows and water that smells of rotten eggs.

None of them seem to have enough room.

I’d figured if someone wasn’t homeless, they had escaped poverty. Maybe they hadn’t made it up that ladder to wealthy suburbanite, but I wouldn’t consider them mired in injustice.

That was before I met mothers who were turning off their electricity to pay for food.

By the Bootstraps

I knew this wasn’t the story for every family. There were families who worked hard, who saved up, who renovated their house. These families were dedicated, responsible, and the very model of ingenuity. Surely they had escaped injustice?

Unable to afford heat, fireplaces and space heaters can result in housefires.

I was able to speak to the daughter of one such family. When she was a young child, her family crossed the border from Mexico. When they moved to Indianapolis the house they lived in was in deep disrepair.

While balancing multiple, minimum-wage jobs her parents not only managed to repair the house, but to buy it. They are now proud homeowners of a house worth being proud of.

This daughter, following the hardworking example of her parents, worked tirelessly in school. Despite difficult, even dangerous conditions there, despite having to learn a foreign language on her own, despite everything this world could throw at her, she graduated. She finished high school a member of the National Honors Society, and graduated and the top of her class.

I was floored. The National Honors Society has not only academic requirements, but acts of service, leadership, and character as well as a demonstration of civic duty. I was never able to make the stringent requirements myself, but I could recall the kids who did. They went on to get scholarships, awards, practically their pick of university.

But she gets nothing.

Top of her class or not, her immigration status disqualifies her for most scholarships.

This passionate, dedicated, hardworking girl finds herself trapped and frustrated, pursuing a two-year degree in a community college. Sacrificing to pay without financial aid or the scholarships she had worked so hard to earn.

The Last Straw

Minutes from injustice, a thriving city.

This was the last straw. I wanted to shout,

“It’s just NOT FAIR!”

At every level, there was injustice. Homeless or housed, graduated or not, there seemed to be no escape. Coming from the suburbs, growing up in America, I had heard over and over again that if you work hard, if you fight and try and are smart and creative and dedicated, you could do anything.

I’d met homeless people educated in law, homeowners working two jobs and trying to fix their house, students creative, intelligent and dedicated and STILL they were suffering. Because of where they were born, or where they lived, or who their parents were.

More than any other tragedy I’ve seen, this made me mad. This broke my heart.

But for the same reasons it broke my heart, it also gives me hope.

Fountain by the Desert

I think the reason this makes me so upset, is that only miles away an entirely different world exists.

The scale of the poverty at Shepherd can only be matched by the scale of the wealth in suburbia. When I describe where I come from, I say things like

“Almost everyone has college degrees” or

“Health insurance is the norm, not the exception”

This second statement has actually inspired a gasp, followed by “really?”

But it is in this very thing, this unbelievable concentration of wealth and education only miles away, that I find my hope.

My Dream

I imagine that one day, these two worlds will come together. That the people from the suburbs will start visiting. Monthly, then weekly, then daily.

When communities come together, joy abounds.

I imagine that first they will come because they are curious. Then they’ll come because they want to help. As they get to know people, they’ll come because they care.

Slowly, unstoppably, the opportunity and freedom of the suburbs will find its way down to the east side.

Slowly, unstoppably, the hard work, the love, the community, and the deep knowledge of God that I have found ever-present on the east sidewill filter up to the suburbs.

And just like that, in a mysterious, amazing, God-orchestrated kind of way, two communities will become one. And the very injustice that breaks my heart will be used to heal many.

Where Dreams Come True

If this dream is to come true, it will happen at places like Shepherd.

In fact, it already is.

Shepherd Community Center is making this happen. At every level of society, they are bringing hope and love.

Providing relief and advocacy for the homeless, while offering Bible studies and a church community for them as well.

Providing healthy meals for families, fighting the epidemic of heart disease while also lightening the workload of chronically overworked parents.

Providing education for children, a top-rate Academy that offers not only a disciplined and safe learning environment, but a spiritual foundation as the children learn about God and His love for them.

There is so much more as well. At every level and in every crisis Shepherd is bringing hope. And it is their posture that makes them so effective.

They come as servants, not imposing solutions but offering them. They ask questions before they give answers and want to empower others before they use their own power. For THIS reason, Shepherd could be the bridge, IS the bridge between communities.

Imagine…

Just as my heart has never been broken this way, I’ve never seen such ready and overflowing hope. Never envisioned such possibility. Never witnessed an organization that is bringing such healing to both the served and the servants.

Shepherd Community Center: bringing materials to some, meaning to others, and Christ to all.

Imagine what’s possible…

When I think “food program,” I picture hungry people. I picture a soup line with emaciated men and women holding bowls. I picture thin children with pieces of bread staring up at me. Kind of a cross between Oliver Twist and one of those “feed a child” commercials.

What I don’t picture is obesity. What I don’t picture is the overweight. What I don’t picture is diabetes and heart disease.

But time and time again, these things pop up at Shepherd. Shepherd doesn’t fit my picture of a food program.

That’s because they’re fighting an injustice I had never heard about.

Feeding the Hungry?

I knew Shepherd was alleviating hunger in this community. A food pantry on the weekends, breakfast at the medical clinic, meals for the Sunday services, all these help to feed those struggling with hunger. And I met individuals who face that struggle daily.

But I also met individuals who were quite overweight, who I couldn’t imagine going hungry. If you’re overweight, a lack of food is clearly not your problem… Right?

What was going on here?

When I heard about the kitchen at Shepherd’s school, I pictured them serving thin kids. Kids who only get one meal a day. Kids rescued from starvation.

Shepherd cooks hundreds of meals for schoolchildren each day.

And while some kids at Shepherd Academy that fit that category, there are also kids that are overweight.

What was I missing?

I would soon have my answer, but I wouldn’t like it.

Invisible Disease

Standing in Shepherd’s free clinic, I met a young man with high blood pressure. He is above a healthy weight, and his blood pressure is high enough to endanger his life. He’s not even 20 yet and he’s already at risk for a heart attack or stroke.

Riding in a Shepherd bus, I heard a man discuss his recent heart surgery. A procedure to buy him a few more years on a life cut short by an unhealthy diet.

These things are terrible. But coming from suburbia, I’d never heard that being overweight or unhealthy was an injustice. I mean, it was their decision to eat those things. They could have made different choices. Right?

Turns out, I was wrong again.

Injustice

Speaking with staff at Shepherd, I’ve come to learn that most of these people don’t have access to healthy food. Some of it is too expensive, but most of it is simply too far away.

It can take hours of travel to get just a few bags of fresh groceries. I decided to try this for myself, and rode the bus to the nearest grocery store. Start to finish, my trip was over two hours for just a bag of groceries.

On the flip-side, easy, cheap food is readily available from gas station or convenience store just a few minutes away.

Education is a big goal of Shepherd’s food program. Here, Chef Jim demonstrates how to properly cut an onion.

Families working long hours to afford the most basic food barely have time to sleep between jobs. They certainly don’t have time to cook. So instant meals and carry-out become the norm.

And the result of all this is that people are dying. If a human being doesn’t get healthy food, they die. Either quickly from starvation, or slowly from heart disease and diabetes. And the people in this community are dying. Not because of choices they’ve made, but because of where they live.

And that’s injustice.

More than Relief

This injustice is so ingrained into the community here I couldn’t imagine what Shepherd could do to change things. Multiple generations, intersecting cultures and nationalities, racial issues, economic hurdles, how do you deal with it all? Where do you start?

At Shepherd, it’s with a school.

In this school they’re not simply offering food, they’re offering good food. Healthy food. Tasty food. And with this good food comes education about nutrition and availability and even cooking!

In their after-school clubs they teach elementary kids basic cooking concepts, working to expose them to the idea that they can make their own food.

An average cooking class with Chef Jim may include wasabi peas and Asian history.

Executive Chef Jim Bradford uses his culinary training to teach a special cooking class for high school. Not only does he teach cooking techniques, but the class also exposes teenagers to different culinary traditions from around the world.

Even the parents get a chance to be involved. Through Shepherd’s food Co-Op, families are receiving fresh fruits and vegetables. By paying a small fee and agreeing to take a shift sorting the food, they receive a box packed full of fresh fruits and vegetables every week.

These vegetables mean health for the families, education about cooking fresh meals, and a sense of community for members. The real issue of food poverty in Indy is not a lack of food, but a lack of availability and access. This Co-op makes healthy food available to the community, and gives families the opportunity to access it.

By educating children and empowering their parents, Shepherd is doing more than treating a disease, they’re working to bring an end to it.

Inspirational

And they’re not slowing down.

Chef Jim dreams of expanding the food program. Offering cooking classes for adults. Agriculture projects for the kids. Expanding Shepherd’s teaching gardens into productive sources of food for local families.

Eleanor, the head of the greenhouse and coordinator for the Co-Op, proudly displays their donated hydroponics system and tells me about the hope for the Co-Op to become fully independent, to no longer need Shepherd’s help.

Shepherd’s staff organizes fresh vegetables for the Co-Op.

This is radically different vision from food relief. Shepherd doesn’t want people to be dependent on them. They’re working to make themselves obsolete.

Abundance and Opportunity

There’s food out there. In this country, in this city, there’s food in abundance. These diseases people are dying from have a cure. It’s in our supermarkets and restaurants and grocery stores and kitchen shelves. And it’s just beyond their reach.

I never knew there was a disease downtown. I was never taught that being overweight was not their fault. I was never told about the injustice of being born without access to fresh food.

Now that I’ve seen the injustice here I thank God for places like Shepherd. I’m thankful they are loving a people I never knew about, fighting an injustice I’d never heard of and I’m thankful that now I have a chance to join them.

Coming to the near east side of Indianapolis, I expected things to be different than the suburbs. But I never expected things to resemble a South African slum!

In South Africa, the nearest grocery store was forty minute drive. It made sense there. I was in a township, a sort of government-created slum. I expected groceries to be far away.

Here in Indianapolis, however, I expected things to be quite different.  I thought, “Any person with enough money can get food, right?”

I was wrong.

An hour-long bus ride to the closest grocery store proved I was sorely mistaken about how difficult the simple act of getting food can be. It also showed me how indescribable hope can be encountered in the most unexpected of places.

Investigation

Working at Shepherd Community Center, I had heard over and over that the biggest obstacle to nutrition is not the existence of food, but the availability of it and access to it.

I had heard about families who shopped almost entirely from gas stations, convenience stores, and fast food places. These are on every block, no more than a few minutes’ walk away.

But driving around here, I’d seen a Marsh and a Kroger. I knew there were grocery stores. I thought,

Without a car, transporting food and belongings is very difficult. Improvised carts are a common sight.

“Maybe it’s a little inconvenient, but it can’t be that hard to get food. I mean, this is America!”

I decided I needed to find out for myself.

Unexpected Distance

I plugged my location into my computer and did a search for nearby grocery stores. There was a Kroger only a few miles away, and an Aldi’s beyond that.

Without a car I would have to take a bus. No bus lines went by Kroger. What was only a few minutes’ drive with a car now seemed utterly distant without one. Miles in the snow carrying groceries felt impossible, or at least far too difficult to be done regularly. What if it rained?

Aldi is a more popular store. A low-cost alternative to “luxurious” stores like Kroger or Marsh. It had a bus line that stopped right in front of it. It was only fifteen minutes away by car, certainly this counted as access. I checked how long it would take to get there by bus.

One hour and four minutes to destination.

A Cold Bus stop

I paid five dollars for round-trip bus fare. I tried to imagine paying five dollars every time I walked into Meijer. Or five dollars for an hour-long taxi ride to a store a few miles away. I’d be pretty ticked off.

The first bus actually drove away from Aldi. I had to switch routes in Indianapolis. After being let out in the city and walking to the next stop, I had to wait out in the cold for my connecting bus. There was no bench, just a sign by an intersection.

As cars whipped by I tried to imagine my mom having to do this – stand in the cold, alone, near empty parking lots in Indianapolis on her way to buy groceries.

It made me feel sick. And my realization that this was a reality for other mothers didn’t help. It was a twenty-minute wait between buses.

Not Worth It

When groceries mean a two-hour bus ride, it makes sense to do your shopping at a gas station.

My connecting bus began another twenty-minute ride the rest of the way to Aldi. The bus was crowded, and as I looked around I couldn’t help but sympathize with the common decision to buy cheap, unhealthy food.

As I saw some people with bags perched on their laps, I marveled that all this work – a two hour round trip, was for only two bags of groceries. That’s the limit you can carry on a city bus.

In the suburbs, I always saw healthy eating as an issue of responsibility. Healthy food is easily accessible, and just like maintaining personal hygiene or keeping my house clean, I was always taught my health was my responsibility.

Practically a moral issue.

But here, when it takes bus fare, hours of riding, and standing in the cold just to get two bags of groceries it makes sense to get what is cheaper, faster, and easier. It would seem an irresponsible waste to spend that much time and money for just two bags.

Here, being healthy doesn’t seem to add up. But Shepherd is working to change the equation.

Changing the Equation

Shepherd is dedicated to making healthy food accessible to its community. Every child who attends school at Shepherd gets a healthy breakfast and a healthy lunch. For the children who come to the after-school programs, there’s a healthy snack waiting for them as well.

This works to help meet the immediate needs of these children. Many of their home diets put them at risk for diabetes and heart disease. These meals provide an oasis of health.

But this is not Shepherd’s long-term solution. To change the equation, they need to bring fresh food into the neighborhoods. They need to create access. The frontline ministry to do this is Shepherd’s food Co-Op.

In the Co-Op, fresh fruits and vegetables are donated and families have a chance to come to Shepherd and pick them up. Families pay a small fee and agree to help organize the food when it arrives by truck. In exchange, they receive a big box of fresh foods every week.

Children at Shepherd Academy can look forward to a healthy breakfast every day.

From bananas to carrots and blueberries to potatoes, the Co-Op can provide access to food that would otherwise be too far away or too expensive to get. It’s a nutritional foundation for the families to build on.

Encountering Hope

Shepherd is working to bring access and change the equation for families in downtown Indianapolis. But sitting on that long bus ride, I still felt for the people who had to live in such misery now.

To live in an area struggling with crime and unemployment is one thing, but to have the money for fresh food and be forced to wait hours to get it seemed like the final insult. Shepherd is working to change the future, but where was their hope for the now?

In the seat behind me, I overheard a man talking about losing his wife. He was telling a complete stranger about the despair he felt, about the hopelessness and the struggles. About being alone. Feeling abandoned, even punished.

But then his story changed, and with growing excitement he described the hope he had discovered. He described a relationship with Jesus Christ that after 60 years of churchgoing had become real. How a Bible study had helped to open up his mind and heart to receive the Peace that God had been preparing him for his whole life.

I couldn’t help myself,

“What church do you go to?”

He smiled at me,

“Shepherd Community.”

Feed My Sheep

I knew in that moment why Shepherd was so important.

They’re bringing access to hope.

They’re not just making food available, they’re making Christ available.

Shepherd is offering more than healthy food. They’re serving up hope

As they feed these children, as they educate and empower these parents, they’re showing Christ’s Love.

And the people here are getting it. They’re taking that love and they’re bringing it home and applying it to their struggles. And they are overcoming.

This man on the bus was freely proclaiming to me, a total stranger, how he had lost everything he loved and how God had not abandoned him.

I want that kind of hope, I want that kind of bold joy, I want to learn what Shepherd taught him. To simply hear him taught me something.

In that moment, I was the one being fed.

I want Shepherd to continue, I want Shepherd to grow. I want them to continue to bring food, hope, and love to the people of Indianapolis.

Then maybe those people who have learned about a God who can overcome hunger and want and even great loss, will be the ones to feed me and my family as well.

Okay, I have a confession to make.

When I pictured food stamps I always pictured actual stamps. Little pieces of paper, kind of like WWII era ration cards.

And like rationing, I always pictured food stamps as something you could get by on. You had to tighten your belt a little, buckle down and stick to necessities, but if you were responsible you could get by just fine.

Working at Shepherd, I’ve discovered how totally wrong I was. My understanding of food stamps had quite a few holes.

So, assuming that you’re in the same boat as I was, here are a few tips I’ve discovered about using food stamps in urban Indy.

TIP #1: Do your shopping in 1970

First, you have to go to the food stamp office and apply. Assuming you qualify, they give you a swipe-able card that links to your account (unlike my visions of actual stamps). This account has money uploaded to it every month.

To figure out how much money you get, they use a complicated metric that takes into account things like your income, your rent, utilities, and size of household. The last meaningful update to this metric was in 1977, but home prices and cost of living hasn’t changed that much, right?

Tip #2: Ration your toilet paper

The largest amount an individual can get is $200 per month. This is assuming they are completely homeless and have no income whatsoever.

Shepherd distributes supplies that food stamps can’t pay for.

The first thing you need to do is make a shopping list. I started looking through my own purchases in this last month; pasta, vegetables, fruit, deodorant, toilet paper.

Oops! Gotta scratch those last two. Food stamps are for food only. I will have to find toilet paper somewhere else.

Tip #3: Say Goodbye to Frozen Pizza

Now that I have my shopping list of what I want, I can see how much I can afford. $200 a month is a little less than $7 a day. That means I want to buy bulk items, stock up on beans and rice and canned goods.

But wait! Where will I store them? I have $200 because I’m homeless. That means nothing that needs refrigeration, is too heavy to carry, or too big to hide wherever I’m staying. Also nothing fresh, it will spoil too fast if it doesn’t attract insects or animals first.

I also need to eliminate things that need cooking. I might have some access to a stove to boil water, but I can’t count on it. Same goes with microwaves.

That leaves me with… packaged foods like Pop Tarts and potato chips, small canned goods, and premade instant meals.

Tip #4: Enjoy the Little Things

I spoke with one woman who had given up smoking recently. She was also decreasing her caffeine intake. She allowed herself one cup of coffee and one pack of gum a day.

I know if I was without television, without warm meals or hot baths, without movies or games or any form of (legal) recreation, I would want some small pleasure to help me through the day.

Volunteers at Shepherd serve a much-appreciated breakfast on Sunday.

A cheap cup of coffee is $1.29. A small pack of gum is $.99, this comes to about $75 a month. The $200 is now $125 per month. That’s about $4.15 a day.

How much can you get in non-perishable, non-bulk, non-cooking grocery items for $4.15? I went to find out.

Tip #5: The Sales Don’t Apply to You

I walked through the aisles of a local grocery store. Any shopping has to be walking distance. Buses cost money.

After scouring the cheapest options, I put together my meals for the day:

Breakfast:
One can of fruit $1.50

Lunch:
Canned pork & beans $0.95
Off-brand soup $0.68

Dinner:
Ramen noodles $1.00
Canned Vegetables $0.79

This comes to a total of $4.92, a little over my $4.15 per day (I’ll just imagine I got lucky and found some change). Not only would this tiny menu leave me hungry, but it contains over 4 grams of salt, more than 150% of your daily recommended intake. It’s no wonder that heart disease is one of the biggest killers in this neighborhood.

In the end, I opted for a bag of Clementine oranges for $3.99. Technically, it broke the perishable rule. But if that was my breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I figured I could finish them in a day. That, and I was really craving some fruit.

On a food-stamp budget, a fruit bowl can look like feast.

I brought them to the counter and they asked for my membership card. Without a permanent address or phone number, most homeless people can’t join super-saver clubs and the prices in the store are little more than wishful thinking.

The oranges rang up as $5.99.

Helping Ends Meet

I couldn’t make it a single day on the food allotments provided to the homeless population in Indianapolis. And I had it easy.

Those lacking proper documentation or citizenship, or who lack the education and training in budgeting and comparison shopping, face even greater obstacles.

This is why the work of Shepherd is so invaluable. On Saturdays, they distribute bags of food and supplies to help make ends meet. These bags are packed with every day essentials and food, but thanks to their personal relationship with the people they serve, the bags are also customized to meet each individuals’ needs and include toiletries and household products.

Saying Grace

On Sundays, Shepherd hosts three separate services and provides breakfast for each of them with the help of volunteers.

Today they served pancakes, sausages, and biscuits with jam. Spread out across the table was tray after tray of fresh fruit, pineapples, strawberries, bananas, and oranges.  After my adventures with a food stamp budget, I saw this in a whole new light.

I realized that the fruit display was a lot more than a free breakfast. It was an oasis of Grace in a world where everything costs something, and most things cost too much.

I now have a much greater appreciation for what it means to “live” off food stamps. As I watched men and women bow their heads over their meals, I gained a much greater appreciation for what it means to “say Grace” as well.

I always hate coming back from mission trips.

After weeks of feeling so free and immersed in what God is doing, I return with a feeling of purpose and certainty. I’m convinced the impact of this trip is going to change my life at home.

And then I get back to my own house, my own neighborhood and culture and jobs and routines and before I know it all those well-intentioned changes seem to slip away.

For me, returning from a mission trip so often feels like making a New Year’s resolution. I tell myself this time it will stick, but I wake up the next morning and the world hasn’t changed. And it’s just too easy to not change right along with it.

Which is exactly why working at Shepherd Community Center has been weird.

Next Door

Shepherd Community Center is an organization dedicated to serving the needs of impoverished families and individuals on the near-east side of Indianapolis.

They have an academy, after-school programs, food programs, a health clinic, a legal clinic, mentoring, bible studies, and a whole array of initiatives and special events designed to show the love of Christ by helping to empower people who often feel powerless.

What’s weird about it is that my home is only thirty minutes away.

Shepherd is working to provide fresh, quality food in an impoverished neighborhood

While I’m working at Shepherd, I’m staying with a local family and doing my best to make the experience as immersive as possible.  But to post articles I need internet access, and the closest access I know about is in the city.  Downtown.  A place I’ve been many times before.

To put it simply, I didn’t want to go.

I told myself I didn’t want to lose the “authentic experience”. It would feel “too easy”, like I was somehow cheating, to take a break and go someplace familiar. It would feel like coming back from a mission trip, leaving everything I had been thinking and feeling behind, if only for an afternoon.

But I needed internet, so I got on a bus. As I rode past abandoned houses, decaying sidewalks and sewage-stained rivers, I grew more and more anxious. As empty storefronts transitioned to new housing and poverty gave way to plenty, I was downright scared.

I realized I’d been lying to myself. I wasn’t afraid that Indianapolis was going to taint my time at Shepherd, I was afraid that Shepherd was going to ruin my time at Indianapolis.

13 Minutes Away

I was happy with traveling to places far away and encountering poverty there. But I wanted to come back afterwards.

I was a champion of the idea that poverty is “right next door”, that it’s right at our fingertips. But I wanted to control when and where I reached out. And when I was done, I didn’t want to be touching it anymore.

But as soon as I stepped off that bus, I knew that control was lost. Thirteen minutes from a neighborhood that was falling apart, I was standing in the heart of Indianapolis.

Another world can be only a bus stop away

As I walked down newly-renovated sidewalks and passed remodeled storefronts, every bus stop I saw reminded me of what was on the other side. Only thirteen minutes away, families struggling with hunger.

I knew that every time I returned to the city, I would be reminded that the people who I share a bus with,

who clean my hotel room,

who stock my mall,

who cook my food,

may end their day and take a bus home to a house with peeling paint, decaying sidewalks, and tainted rivers.

My home was no longer a place where the oppressed are absent, it was merely a place where there are enough other people that I didn’t have to notice them.

And it’s not just my home, every city I travel to will be the same. Like one of those hidden-image pictures: once you see it, you can’t un-see it. Once you know where to look, you see it everywhere.

Inescapable

I felt terrible. I was filled with the sinking realization that I would never be able to escape poverty. That there is no city I can visit, no home I can return to, no resort I can vacation at, that will be without injustice.

What was I supposed to do with that knowledge? Wallow in guilt and shame? Pretend I didn’t know? Spend my life trying to fix every injustice everywhere?

None of these sounded fun, and they certainly didn’t sound freeing.

Strangely enough though, I started laughing. In the middle of Indianapolis, thirteen minutes from poverty, twenty minutes from home, and smack dab in the middle of a realization I just laughed and laughed for joy.

If poverty is everywhere, if injustice really is “right next door”, then I never have to come back from the mission trip.

Down the street or around the world, there’s always opportunity to share the love of Christ.

My world is no longer divided into “places that need Christ” and “home, where things are ok”. There is no longer a distinction between where God is working and where I am living.

All my worries about coming back to a poverty-free community and falling into selfish routines were gone. I could no longer see any place as being poverty free, and I realized that, with the help of places like Shepherd, selflessness could become my routine.

Getting Started

I had traveled around the world to engage with poverty and injustice where it is, but for the first time, poverty is engaging me where I am.

That’s a scary thing, but more than anything else I’ve done, that has the potential to change my day-to-day life.

I know over the next few weeks, I’m going to be changed. As I spend time with people facing and fighting hunger. As I witness the amazing work Shepherd is doing to provide nutrition for those without it, I know I’ll be discovering a side of my own home I never knew existed, and a work of God I never knew was waiting for me.

The best part is, at the end I won’t be going home.

I’ll just be getting started.

This article is one of four vignettes about my weeklong stay at Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage. 
Click here to get the full story.

Vignette 4: Yura

“Oksana loves me!”

Yura smiled from ear to ear and continued, “And I love Oksana!”

A bit later in the class, Yura turned to me, grabbed my hand and said, “I love Barry and Barry loves me.”  He closed his eyes, gave me a big, toothy grin and gave a little squeal of delight.

It seems like Yura is all about love these days. In my time at Romaniv, I’ve heard him exclaim, again and again, with utter certainty, that he is loved.  This volunteer loves him. That teacher loves him.  Over and over…

I’ve thought a lot about why he keeps saying this phrase.  Sure, he might just like saying it.  It’s possible that Yura is simply repeating a slogan that makes everyone around him smile.

But I think something deeper is going on.  I think Yura is speaking from the overflow of his heart. Deep down, he knows that he is loved, and he wants the world to know it too…

Heart Breaking

Perhaps Yura is so vocal about this love because it hasn’t always been the case.

At one point during my stay at Romaniv, I asked Volodymyr Denisovich, the head administrator of Romaniv, about a few of the boys.

Sweet Yura, who wants the world to know he is loved!

What I learned in his office that day is probably the saddest fact I discovered at the orphanage… it’s a fact that reminds me of just how broken the world really is and added a good dose of “bitter” to the sweetness I was encountering.

That fact is this:  Most of the boys at the orphanage have families. In fact, many still have parents. But only a very few have ever been visited by their relatives.

The stories are all the same.  Vitalik, abandoned on the street as a baby, has never been visited by his extended family.  Yura has both a mom and a dad, but they have not once come to see him. Misha’s mom used to visit, but disappeared five years ago, never to return.

Outcast by their communities and abandoned by their families, these boys have been left to suffer alone.

And this is what breaks my heart the most.  The boys at Romaniv haven’t just missed out on education or proper healthcare or stimulating activities.  They’ve missed out on love.

Everything Has Changed

But this heartbreaking fact is unacceptable to the staff and volunteers of Mission to Ukraine.  They have marched into this dark place, bringing abundant love to these boys.

The new gravestones for the boys who have died at Romaniv. A powerful symbol of their new-found dignity.

Where once the only physical touch these boys received was a punishing slap, they now receive handshakes, high fives and hugs.

Where once they were starved for encouragement and support, they now have a whole community rooting for their development.

Where once they spent their days staring at the wall alone, they now have people praying with them, singing with them, playing games with them, dancing with them, teaching them and laughing with them.

Today, these boys are loved.

From the Inside

But this overflow of love isn’t just coming from the outside.  The transformation happening in the lives of the boys is affecting the orphanage staff as well.

The babysitters, who once were absolutely overwhelmed just keeping the boys from running wild, now have the breathing room to actually speak with them, teach them and love them.  In fact, several of the boys have started calling their babysitters “mom.”

The kitchen staff, which used to scrape by with whatever they could find, has now begun to take pride in serving the boys.  Fresh milk, homemade bread and plenty of tasty food…

Two of the “babysitters” with their boys.

And most poignant of all; the director, having witnessed such a profound transformation in the lives of these young men, pulled some strings to have beautiful new gravestones made for the boys who had died in years past.

The love that he has for these boys goes even beyond death.

Not Hyperbole

So now you can see why I think Yura’s repeated comments are coming from an overflowing heart.  He has witnessed a profound change in the 21 years he’s lived at Romaniv.

Today, he is so wonderfully loved that he can hardly contain his excitement.

And now I think he’s starting to understand the true source of this love as well.  When the topic of God came up in class the other day, he shouted from the bottom of his heart:

“God loves everybody and God loves me!”

————

This brings us to the end of my four “Vignettes” about Romaniv Orphanage.  I hope that by reading them, you have come away with at least a small taste of how “bittersweet” it is in that place.

Me with the boys I’ve written about here (clockwise from top: me, Vitalik, Misha, Vitalik and Yura).

There is still so much work to be done.  The boys are cooped up in their dorms all day long while waiting for the renovation of their new classroom building.  The orphanage is severely understaffed. Physical and Occupational Therapy for the boys has only just begun in earnest.

But even though there is much room for growth, it’s clear that God has been working in powerful ways at Romaniv.  In fact, the orphanage has improved so much that it is becoming a model to many other institutions around the country!

The kingdom of God is moving here in Ukraine and it’s been an absolute privilege to witness this transformation from the inside.

Now, if you’ll excuse me.  I’m going to go put my money where my mouth is and choose which Romaniv boy to sponsor!

What do you say? Want to join me?

This article is one of four vignettes about my weeklong stay at Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage. 
Click here to get the full story.

Vignette 3 – Vitalik

“Sigh… Barry, Barry, Barry.”

Vitalik said this a lot during my week at Romaniv.  Whenever he saw me, he would smile and repeat my name in a tone that said, “Just what are we going to do with you, young man?”

“Sigh… Vitalik, Vitalik, Vitalik.” I repeated, shaking my head and trying to hide my smile…

Upbeat

While I lived at the orphanage, I always looked forward to hanging out with Vitalik.  He’s such a good-natured guy.  Quick to smile, funny and eager to include me in whatever he is doing.

Vitalik cracks me up! He LOVED it when Brad made him a balloon hat.

Sometimes it was actually a bit surprising that he could be so upbeat.

You see, Vitalik, 24, has been living at Romaniv since he was five.  Like many of the older boys, he survived the dark days before the current director arrived and before Mission to Ukraine began their weekly visits.

Vitalik cracks me up! He LOVED it when Brad made him a balloon hat.

In those days, the boys never got out.  They never saw the world beyond the orphanage property.  Their only creative stimulation was a small, glowing TV in the corner.

You can imagine how dull and meaningless life must have been to them.  For Vitalik, there was nothing to look forward to.  Nothing to hope for. Tomorrow was just, well… another day.

But all of that changed when Mission to Ukraine entered the picture.

Stimulation

Because of their understanding of childhood development, MTU works hard to provide the boys with all sorts of unique, stimulating activities.  During their weekly classes, the boys are exposed to new sights, new sounds, new smells and new ideas.

Just last week they got to play with shaving cream. Feeling it on their hands, writing with it on the table… It was something outside of the ordinary that helped their brains to grow.

Screening the aquarium video for the boys and their babysitters. This moment was one of the highlights of my trips!

Every summer, many of the Romaniv boys get to attend MTU’s “Good Mansion” camp where they interact with volunteers, play games with crazy American teens, sing fun camp songs and learn about Jesus.

They have a blast.

In fact, the boys look forward to camp so much that they simply call it “the sea.”  In Ukraine, going to the sea is the quintessential vacation.  The ideal way to kick back and enjoy life…  So when the boys imagine what going to the sea must be like, they have a perfect image in their minds: Good Mansion Camp!

And now, on top of all of these stimulating new activities, Mission to Ukraine has begun taking many of the boys on exciting field trips.  Last year, they got to visit the Kiev zoo (video here), and this year they had the chance to visit an aquarium and shopping mall.

As I mentioned before, going with them to the aquarium was a blast.  If you haven’t seen it yet, check out the video. Tell me their faces aren’t priceless!

Extravagant

When I showed the aquarium video to some of the boys, several of them were so overwhelmed that they ran over and hugged me. They were so excited to show their friends how much fun they had had.

One of the babysitters who saw the video told me, “I’ve been working here for 33 years and I’ve never seen anything like it!”  And she wasn’t talking about my video editing.

Playing with shaving cream. Yet another stimulating new experience that MTU provides for these boys. Smells nice, too!

She was referring to the astounding love that MTU has for these boys… that they would do something so “extravagant” and fun for these boys who have been so rejected by society.

This is the kingdom of God at work.

Even More

And yes, I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record here, but the new sponsorship program through Hands of Hope will allow these boys to have even more amazing field trips… even more activities and games… and even more exposure to the outside world.

Head over to the sponsorships page right now (click here) and see which boys are still awaiting sponsors. I’m serious!

Imagine what it would be like to connect your life to Vitalik’s. To Misha’s. To Victor’s.  Imagine what it would be like to know that a small financial sacrifice in your life would be literally life changing for one of them.

Will sponsoring a Romaniv boy bring an end to all of the problems they still face day to day?  Of course not.

But for Vitalik or Oleg or Boris, the world will be just a little closer to the way it was meant to be…

——-

Click here to read Vignette 4

This article is one of four vignettes about my week-long stay at Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage. 
Click here to get the full story.

Vignette 2: Misha

Ah, Misha.

Just thinking about him brings a smile to my face.  Misha has got to be one of the sweetest young men on the planet.

Whenever I smile at him, he always smiles back.  His big grin (3 parts happy, 2 parts bashful, 1 part mischievous) is one of a kind.

Misha, with his happy, bashful, mischievous smile.

Towards the end of my time at Romaniv, he and I started a goofy little tradition.  Whenever we saw each other, we would squint our eyes and wag our fingers at each other as if to say, “Oh, you little rascal…”

Walking past Misha’s dorm and seeing him shaking his finger at me from the window quickly became the highlight of my day.

But of course, all of this sweetness is tainted by bitterness as well.

You see, Misha has a speech impediment that makes it very hard for him to communicate. From what I understand, it’s a treatable speech impediment. With the proper surgery, he could talk perfectly fine.

Vasiliy Leonidivich, director of Romaniv Orphanage.

But 19-year-old Misha has lived at Romaniv for the last ten years and nobody could afford (or would afford) to pay for the operation.

Neglect

His story is all too common at this orphanage. The previous administrator (the one who put bars on the windows and had the walls painted black) put only the bare minimum into caring for the health of the boys.

For decades, the boys lived in filthy, squalid conditions, and froze in the winter without the proper cold-weather clothing.  Every year, 8-9 boys would die, most from treatable diseases.

This neglect is visible in the way these boys have developed.

One day after lunch I was hanging out with a few of the older boys. As we talked, I noticed something so obvious that it shocked me I hadn’t seen it before. Every one of them stood only shoulder high.  Not a single one broke five feet in height.

I had read about stunted growth happening to children who suffer trauma in their developmental years, but an entire orphanage full of them?  It broke my heart.

Turning Tides

Thankfully, the tides have turned in a big way at Romaniv.  The old (and in my opinion, evil) administrator has been replaced by a kind, tenderhearted man named Vasiliy Leonidivich.

A before and after picture of the boys’ shower room. Talk about a transformation!

He truly cares about the boys.  Inspired by the change he’s seen in them through the classes of Mission to Ukraine, Vasiliy has made significant investments in their health.

Beautiful new showers, proper winter clothing, a five person medical staff and new hygiene standards have made Romaniv a vastly healthier place to live.

When I asked Vasiliy why he would invest so much time, energy and money in all of this when his predecessor did none of it, he responded, “I couldn’t just sit by and watch what was going on… Mission to Ukraine pushed us to look at caring for the children with different eyes.”

Today, the boys get plenty to eat, they have designated outdoor play areas for exercise, and the administration partners with local hospitals to give the boys care beyond the scope of the orphanage clinic.

Today, the death of the boys is rare.

On top of all of this, Romaniv Orphanage now has its very own sensory room… a place to nurture the most severely disabled boys and help their physical, emotional and mental wounds to heal.  Take a look:

The journey from neglect to nurture has begun!

A Direct Investment

As you can see, some phenomenal changes are taking place at Romaniv.  It is frankly stunning to see how far it’s come in just a few years.

Misha (left), looking out the window of his dorm.

And it is exciting to know that you and I can be a part of the continuing development of this place.  Through MTU’s brand new sponsorship program, we can invest directly in the lives of these boys.

If we sign on as sponsors, we’ll be giving Romaniv the opportunity to continue to grow and develop by leaps and bounds. Medical supplies, teaching resources, even better food… Our resources can be the tools that give these boys the lives they deserve.

In fact, as of the moment I’m writing this, Misha is one of the boys still needing a sponsor.  Maybe you can be the one to sponsor him!

So take a look, consider being a part, and know that the kingdom of God is growing!

——-

Click here to read Vignette 3

How in the world am I going to write this article?  Where will I even begin?

I just spent an entire week living at Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage and I have no idea what to write about.

Sometimes when I think about what I experienced there I want to burst into tears. Other times I want to jump up and down with a huge smile on my face. How do I capture that on a page?

Some things at Romaniv are so unfathomably terrible and unjust that I have trouble even articulating them.  Other things are so remarkably hope-filled and uplifting that I fear coming across as trite and saccharine.

The boys eating lunch. Vitalik (wearing the blue shirt) chooses to stand.

In the end, I’m left with a jumbled mess of completely contradictory images and ideas. Unrestrained laughter and deep emotional scars. A loving family and abandonment.  The darkness of a broken world and the healing light of the kingdom of God.

Perhaps the best thing for me to do is to simply introduce you to a few of the boys I spent time with and let you see these contradictions for yourself.  Maybe after reading these four vignettes, you’ll agree:

Life at Romaniv is bittersweet…

———–

Vignette 1: Vitalik

Every day at mealtime, I heard the sound of talking and shuffling feet.  I looked out the window of my room and saw the source of the sound.  The boys were headed to the cafeteria to eat.

Several of them always came over to say hello.  They knocked on my window and shouted to remind me (in Ukrainian) that it was time to eat.

But not Vitalik.  He never banged on the window.  He simply looked over as he walked by, nodded his head and waved.

It’s refreshing to see that Vitalik has a sense of humor.

31-year-old Vitalik is the oldest boy at Romaniv orphanage.  The very first time I met him I knew he was unique. He carries himself differently than the other boys. He is very alert and engaged.  Frankly, he seems quite intelligent.

He’s also a leader.

During the meals I shared with the boys, he ate standing up. At first I thought this was kind of strange, but I soon realized why he did it. Vitalik ate standing up so he could float between tables and help other boys with their meals.

He kept an eye out for unruly behavior. He helped the staff collect dishes. Once, he scolded a younger boy for taking someone else’s bread.

Throughout the week, Vitalik and I developed something of a mutual respect for one another.  Whenever he and I saw each other across the lunch room or while walking between buildings, we would nod our heads as if to say, “Good day to you, sir.” It always made me smile.

Education

Vitalik is a great example of how much the Romaniv boys stand to benefit from all the new education they are receiving.

A decade ago, there was literally no structured teaching at Romaniv. The boys ate, slept and sat around, but did little else with their time. Year after year the boys’ would grow in their bodies, but not in their minds.

They were treated like animals, so that is how they behaved.

It broke my heart to learn that this was the environment in which Vitalik was raised.  You see, he has been living at Romaniv since 1988.  He has spent decades in the system.

I can only imagine where he would be today if he had had access to an education during his most formative years.

Thanks to Mission to Ukraine, the boys now have access to an education.

Vitalik clearly has a huge capacity for growth and improvement.  I believe that, with the right training, Vitalik could have learned long ago how to live and take care of himself.

But after more than twenty wasted years in the orphanage, that chance has largely slipped away.

When he turns 35 in a few years, he will reach the absolute maximum age for boys at the orphanage and will be turned over to a government mental institution to live out the rest of his days.

The whole thing leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.  But it’s not without a hint of sweetness.

Changing the System

You see, Mission to Ukraine has been visiting Romaniv for four years now and the entire system is starting to change.

Because of MTU, the orphanage administration saw such tremendous improvements in the behavior of the boys that they decided to hire not one, but two full-time teachers.

Now, the boys have lessons every day, life-skills classes, and weekly visits from the Mission to Ukraine team and others on Tuesdays and Fridays.

During my stay, I got to sit in class after class with the boys, watching as they eagerly soaked up knowledge about colors, about seasons, about good manners… I was thrilled to see such progress.

The boys are receiving the education that Vitalik never had.

And although there are still massive hurdles to overcome in the development of these boys, they finally have a chance…

Every one of these boys can now be sponsored!

Even Vitalik, who may have missed the window of opportunity for development, is not without hope. Mission to Ukraine is looking into alternatives to keep him out of the government institution when his time at Romaniv is up.

Sponsorships

And get this. Now, you and I can be a part of this transformation in a concrete way.  Mission to Ukraine, through Hands of Hope, actually has a child sponsorship program in place for the Romaniv boys.

You read that right!  We can now sponsor boys like Vitalik for $30 a month and know that 100% of the money will go directly to MTU’s Romaniv ministry.  It’s rare to find a sponsorship program with this much bang for your buck.  Zero overhead??? Wow.

The program is very new, so they only have 8 of the 80 boys sponsored. But how cool would it be if we could close that gap and get the program fully funded?

I would encourage you to take a look at the sponsorship page and consider signing up.

If you do, you’ll be playing a significant part in making the life of boys like Vitalik a little less bitter and a little more sweet…

——-

Click here to read Vignette 2