I’d taken at least one hundred photos of him already so, when he’d ask, I started getting creative.  I’d pretend my camera was broken, I didn’t understand him, or I hadn’t heard him.  Of course I always gave in eventually, but I wanted him to work for it.

Later that day I realized how needlessly cruel I was behaving.  I’ve always had a problem with “teaching people lessons” if their faults are obvious.  It’s like road rage only much more passive-aggressive.  On some level, that’s exactly what I was doing to Viktor.

It’s something a lot of us do to “problem children”.  After all, it makes sense.  If they act inconsiderately towards us, and we respond in turn, they’ll see the error of their ways.  Right?

This is Orphanage #4, the closest thing to a home Viktor knew before The Haven.

Unfortunately, no.  According to renowned child psychologist and neuroscientist Bruce Perry in his fascinating book The Boy Who Was Raised As a Dog, “We tend to see children who are whiny and demanding and aggressive as spoiled and indulged, rather than recognizing that these qualities usually arise from unmet needs and unexplored potential, not from having too much or feeling too good.  In order for a child to become kind, giving, and empathetic, he needs to be treated that way.”

My mistreatment of Viktor lasted less than eight hours, but I still felt terrible. I was unsure as to how I could make amends so I did the only thing I could think of.  I set out to be infinitely patient, kind, and caring toward him for the last day and a half of the trip.

Victor is one of the most frustrating and inspiring people I’ve met here.

The next day Viktor came up to me and, with the help of a translator, explained that he wanted to tell me his life story.  I was stunned but eagerly agreed.

As the story began to unfold, a transformation took place.  Viktor changed from a thorn in my side into a confused and frightened child who had been terribly abused.  His body language was reminiscent of a toddler.  He was sitting with legs clutched to his chest, in the fetal position, and was unconsciously bringing his thumb to his mouth every time he paused for the translator to fill me in.

Suddenly the need for attention, the behavior issues, and even the story about how he had beaten another kid with a pipe made a lot more sense.  He wasn’t doing these things because he was spoiled, he was doing them because he was deprived. 

He wasn’t a monster-child enjoying violence… it’s just all he knows.  He was beaten his whole life, hit with fists, shoes, and night sticks by teachers, principals, and even police.  So it wasn’t anything new when he returned the favor to that other kid. 

Viktor has a family now, one that is committed to growing with him for years to come.

And I remembered the countless conversations about kids being beaten.  Liz Millikan, of Last Bell Ministries, told me a story where a little girl looked her in the eye and asked whether it was Liz’s father or Liz’s mother that had beaten her.  Liz said neither of them did.  The little girl got a very confused look on her face and asked, “Well…then who beat you?” When Liz said no one had ever beaten her, the little girl just stood stunned and said, “I didn’t know there were families like that.”

As Viktor continued his tale, he shared with me his biggest dream, to meet his parents and ask them why they didn’t want him.  He says that he knows this is impossible.  He isn’t even sure they’re alive, but that it is what he wants most in the world. 

And we all need dreams.

Viktor told me he knows he isn’t an easy kid to deal with but he doesn’t know how to change that.  He explained how he had given up drinking and wanted to stop smoking as well.  But it’s hard to fight against what you’ve been surrounded by. 

Viktor proudly informed me that The Haven has become his family.  A family helping him deal with his problems in a healthy way, encouraging him to be free of his addictions, and accepting him time and time again.  Viktor is still confused, frightened, and makes mistakes but he has hope now. He is not alone.  Viktor may never know why his parents didn’t want him, but he surely knows that his new family does.

With the help of this new family, Viktor will find the courage to let go of both the beast and the baby, growing instead into the man he was meant to be.

This is the lush greenery of the Carpathian Mountains, the pride and joy of Ukraine.

I’ve always been independent but this seemed a bit extreme, even for me.  I was getting ready to take what would be a twenty-one hour train ride clear across the country on my own, sans translator, to join up with kids and leaders from The Haven at the Azov Sea.

I’ve never been so happy to see a train station in my whole life.

The wooden bench was hard and the armrests prevented me from laying out, so I sort of leaned over as much as I could, letting those armrests dig their way into my ribs.  This, coupled with the fact that I was worried someone might try to steal my backpack out from under me, meant I woke up every ten minutes or so.  And the army dudes who kept waking me up, angrily asking to see me passport didn’t help either.  The sleep wasn’t exactly restful but it kept my body going.<

In the morning, I stumbled out of the station in search of food.  I found kiosks selling chips and sodas and other snacks.  All I wanted was some yogurt.  After half an hour of searching, I settled for a Ukrainian hot dog, complete with ketchup, mayonnaise, corn, and shredded garlic carrots.  I washed it down with a fifty-cent espresso.  Breakfast of champions for sure. 

Five minutes later I found some yogurt at another kiosk.  Oh irony.

I grabbed a couple of sandwiches at random from one of the endless kiosks, a bag of beef flavored chips, a small pack of cookies, and a two-liter bottle of water.  With my meals in hand, I hopped on my train.

I was riding in a cabin with three other people, a Ukrainian granny, gramps, and granddaughter.  I was in one of the top bunks and quickly scrambled up once the fam arrived.  The adults looked at me distrustfully and muttered something under their breath but the little girl, probably around 8 years old, just smiled at me and continued singing.  The only time she stopped was when she fell asleep.

When you spend twenty-one hours lying on a train bunk, with no one to talk to, you start thinking. 

The sea almost always has a calming effect on me. I found out that the Azov Sea is no exception to this rule.

Oh sure, I listened to music and read some books, but I had plenty of time to just process.  And what I kept coming back to, over and over, was that it seemed the natural reaction to start whining and griping about the bits of this experience that weren’t that enjoyable.

And just when I thought that I might start making a mental list of all the hardships of this little excursion, I was struck by something.  This was a twenty-one hour trip to the sea.  Right after a retreat in the Carpathian Mountains.  I was doing things most Ukrainians can only dream about.

In just a couple of weeks I had seen more of Ukraine than most Ukrainians ever will.  I mean, I’ve met people who’ve lived their entire lives without leaving the city of Zhytomyr. 

All of a sudden, that mental list seemed childish.  I began to start making a list of the many blessings that the Lord had given me on this trip instead.

When I finally got to the sea, I was dirty, I was smelly, and I was smiling.

A raised finger, a lifted eyebrow, a shrug… Each gesture is pregnant with meaning and interpreted by our brains in the blink of an eye.

But imagine for a moment what life would be like if you couldn’t control your gestures.  Imagine if something as simple as a wave of your hand took a few seconds of complete concentration…

People would have difficulty understanding you.  You would appear strange and different.  And one of the most crucial aspects of your life would be drastically changed: interpersonal communication.

Dima, mentally healthy but physically disabled.

Well, for many people with cerebral palsy, this is exactly what life is like.  Misunderstandings, frustration, pain…

But for one young man at the Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage, being misunderstood has led to more than just frustration.  For Dima, being unable to communicate could very well cost him his life…

Another

If you’ve been reading World Next Door for a while, you’ve heard all about the Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage and the incredible story of Peter, an orphan there who was adopted by a wonderful Ukrainian family.

With companions that cannot speak, Dima will never receive the social, emotional and mental development he needs.

Peter, a mentally healthy boy with muscular dystrophy, was kept in the severely disabled section of the orphanage.  Even though he could think and read and learn, he was trapped in a prison of maltreatment.  There was little hope for him until a brave family of Christ followers here in Zhytomyr and a group of dedicated financial sponsors from the U.S. got together to rescue him.

But Peter was not the only boy in his position.  There was another.

His name is Dima.  And he is still trapped at Romaniv.

Dima

As I mentioned above, Dima has cerebral palsy.  Because of a traumatic event (e.g. lack of oxygen, blood toxicity, shaken baby syndrome, etc.) that happened to him early in his brain’s development, he has a very hard time controlling his body.

His arms occasionally flail around, he has difficulty walking, and often he simply can’t quite get his body to do what he wants it to do.

But looking into Dima’s eyes, you can see the truth.  Dima is mentally healthy.  Just like Peter, he can think, grow and learn.

Unfortunately, his caretakers don’t understand this.  As I’ve mentioned before, they have no training in working with the disabled.  They see his tightly clenched fists, they see the drool on his chin, and they assume that he is stupid.

Romaniv is improving, it will take more than toys to help Dima become fully healthy.

They don’t hug him.  They don’t teach him.  They don’t even speak to him.

But Dima is far from stupid.  With a little consistent education, Dima could make some incredible leaps in his development.  He could learn.  He could grow.  He could live.

After attending Mission to Ukraine’s summer camp last year, he was like a new person.  He was alert, energetic and talkative.  At camp he laughed and played with the American volunteers, he talked on the phone with his best friend Peter and he told Oksana his heart’s desire:  “I want to go home too.”

Far From Home

Instead, he went back to Romaniv.

Dima went back to a place where he is ignored.  Back to a place where nobody talks to him.  Back to a place where his only companions are boys with terribly debilitating mental and physical impairments…

One year later, being ignored has taken its toll.  Now he is easily distracted.  His responses are sluggish. Like a shipwreck survivor coming back to civilization, he seems a bit like he’s in another world.

And while physically his needs are being met, in a very real way his life is in danger.

Dima learning the story of baby Moses in the basket. It’s both exciting and heartbreaking to see his capacity for growth.

If he continues to be left in an environment like Romaniv, Dima will sink further inwards.  Without consistent, meaningful interactions with people, his emotional isolation could become permanent.

It breaks my heart to think that this sweet, gentle young man could spend the rest of his life trapped in an unnecessary prison, lacking the love and affection he so desperately needs to grow.

Hope

Thankfully, there is hope for Dima.

With the right ingredients, he too can be adopted by a Ukrainian family.  But before I tell you what those ingredients are, I’d like you to watch this video and meet Dima yourself!

(Sorry about how distracted I am in the video.  As you can hear, it’s hard to focus in such a noisy place…)

Finding Dima a Home

So what would it take to get Dima adopted like little Peter?  How can we rescue this beautiful young man from the terrible conditions he is living in now?

Well, as I said above, it will take three crucial ingredients.

First, of course, it will take God’s powerful hand.  With Peter, the unbelievable became possible in less time than I could have ever imagined.  This time, I won’t let my faith be so puny.  If God can really move mountains (Matthew 17:20), then it will be no sweat for him to find Dima a home.

Dima needs a home. Will you step up to help that become a reality?

Second, we will need a Ukrainian family to step up to the call.  This is not an easy thing to ask for.  A family adopting Dima will need to be gentle, compassionate, patient and secure in their identity.  In this culture, having a disabled child is still viewed as a great dishonor.  And as we’ve seen already, this city is not exactly an ideal place for the disabled to live.

Third and finally, we will need to find financial sponsors to help cover the $300 a month that Dima’s new family will need to take care of him.  And here’s the deal: I want you to be one of those sponsors.

Through it all, we will need to pray… To pray that hearts would be softened.  To pray that the money and family would be found.  And to pray that the kingdom of God would move.

Will You Step Up?

So there you have it.  The most explicit call I’ve ever made for you to step up and get into the game.

You’ve read all about the Romaniv Orphanage.  You’ve rejoiced with me about Peter’s adoption.  Now it’s time for you to act… and play an integral part in the rescue of one beautiful young man that needs your help now.

Will you pledge your finances?  Will you commit to spread the word?  Will you pray?

If so, sign up below.  And let’s find Dima a home!

Staring at the sky through barbed-wire and bars for over 400 days has to weigh heavy on any soul, but how much more on that of a child?

Later, I learned Dima had just been released from a juvenile detention center after a 14 month stay.  I saw him hours after he was freed and I had no idea until Andre & Oksana told me outright.  The only indication anything was different about him was his silence. He mumbled a barely audible hello and clammed up after that. In my ignorance, I simply assumed he was a quiet kid.

This is one of many experiences that has hammered home one fact.  No matter how comfortable or normal things might appear to be, growing up in Ukraine is like nothing I’ve ever known.  It comes with problems we’d never expect in America.  Even people, like me, who have lived rough or abnormal lives are not fully prepared for what you’ll find if you really start looking at people here.

Everyone looks normal on the surface, but if you scratch through that thin veneer you’ll always find a story inside.  I know this from personal experience.  I was orphaned when I was sixteen.  Now I was lucky, very lucky to have had people who started walking alongside of me straightaway.  These people met both my physical and emotional needs.

Slight of frame and quick to smile, but without some help, he’s a ticking time bomb.

However, the sad fact for these boys and girls is that they’re only being met halfway.  The government gives them plenty of money every month as long as they hold onto all of their documents but if they lose any of them, they also say goodbye to their pension.  That money is intended for food and rent and other physical necessities but without the proper emotional support, it more often ends up going towards fancy clothes, electronics, or alcohol.

And why should we expect anything different?

Think about any fifteen year old kid you know.  What would happen if you gave them a bunch of money every month, completely checked out of their life, and told them to start living like an adult?  No matter how mature they are, their failure is almost guaranteed.

This is exactly why these kids need some sort of emotional anchor, some way for them to learn how to start really living instead of just surviving.  And that’s what I’ve seen through the leaders at The Shelter and The Haven, two homes that invest in the lives of the graduated orphans.  At least three days a week these leaders spend the day with the kids cooking, studying the bible, playing games, and being a presence in their lives.

These are people committed to being permanent fixtures in the lives of these kids, helping keep them safe and levelheaded when the waves of life threaten to overwhelm them.  They are present through thick and thin, when kids are laughing, crying, or trying to find a tree to hang themselves from.  And it’s not always easy.

And yet, even in the blackest of nights, The Haven & The Shelter are bright beacons of hope in the lives of these kids.

I’ve seen them interact with kids like Viktor (they call him Jim Carrey because he likes to joke so much) who is a textbook problem child.  He drinks, he smokes, and not too long ago he wrapped a metal bar in magazines and beat another kid half to death, leaving him hospitalized.

These are children but they’ve lost their innocence, it’s been violently washed away by the brutal waters their lives have led them through.  Most people have given up on them and many kids have even given up on themselves, content with barely scraping by.  But what a sad excuse for life that is.

What a tragedy that they have been abandoned, not only by their parents, but by their society as well.  And so they sit in a small boat, in the middle of a dark and frightening sea, desperately searching for something to hold onto, something to save them, anything at all.  These kids need emotional support, these kids need love, and most of all they need Christ.

Which is exactly why The Shelter and The Haven exist.  To show these kids the path to freedom from themselves, from their addictions, and from their pasts.  The kind of freedom that only Christ brings, the kind of freedom that you see in a person’s life, even if you only talk to them for five minutes in a mall food court.

Because we’re all captives until He sets us free.

How is it that I find myself in this place? How did a college student from Moody Bible Institute, born and raised in America, wind up listening to a “babushka” chattering as evening falls?

The sun setting in Zhytomyr out the window of my new home.

Prior to coming here, the furthest I had traveled was over the border into Mexico. Beyond that I have zero experience in international travel. I speak one language and get hopelessly confused when trying to find countries on a globe. And yet, here I am, sitting in Zhytomyr, Ukraine.

This crazy adventure all started one day in March when I got a phone call from World Next Door with the cheerful announcement “You’re going to Ukraine!” I must admit, with the credentials I just listed above, I was a little shocked. And honestly, I was slightly terrified. I knew I was standing on the brink of something big, and deep in my adventurous heart I knew I could never refuse.

The entrance to Mission to Ukraine’s center where I will be going every morning.

Fast forward two months to my team and I boarding three flights and finding our way to Kiev, Ukraine. As I stepped out of the airport in my sleep deprived state, I smiled to myself. There I was, standing on Ukrainian soil, off to encounter the kingdom of God in a new place.

As we drove down the streets in our hot, stuffy van, I tried to keep from drifting into slumber and attempted to read signs and drink in the sights of the city. Honestly, this was a humbling moment.

Here I am in a place where I have no ability to communicate, navigate, or really contribute much of anything. I have come in faith, and in faith I will have to continue. I knew from that moment on I would be living each day by trust, trust in my hosts, and ultimately trust in God.

My very important Ukrainian dictionary and map of Zhytomyr.

My time here so far has been a whirlwind of meeting amazing kingdom-minded people, getting acquainted with the city, and witnessing firsthand the work of God among the overlooked and oppressed. I have come to Zhytomyr to learn from those who work at MTU and from the people whose lives are being transformed by this work.

I will be focusing on MTU’s work with the disabled in Zhytomyr and I have been blessed with the opportunity to tag along with the folks at MTU as they love on these kids. Already I’m blown away by their humble hearts and willingness to dedicate their lives to loving those who are, by the world’s standards, unlovable. I will also get to interact with those who have disabilities so that I can begin to understand what their lives are like.

Some of the kingdom work I have already witnessed first hand.

During the week MTU has classes and therapy for kids with disabilities at their center. And every Friday a group from MTU piles into a van and drives an hour away to the Romaniv Orphanage for disabled boys where they spend time ministering to the boys. I can tell already that there are stories here, stories that are just waiting to be told. I can’t wait to witness them, and to share them with you.

So, get ready for a summer that I believe is going to profoundly change my life and hopefully yours. My heart breaks for a group of people who have been marginalized and virtually ignored. So join me this summer as we seek to understand what God is doing and wants to do in a city called Zhytomyr.

1 – A sort of glitzy space-age European world with discotheques on every corner and neon signs all over the place.

Or

2 – The scene from Monty Python & the Holy Grail where you see the villagers beating mud with sticks.

So imagine my surprise when we got off the plane and I found that, while we certainly weren’t in Kansas anymore, it was mostly normal.  There were crying children, frustrated men and woman waiting in long lines, and advertisements put up anywhere there was a blank space.

You can’t see the chalk outline in the photo but this is where the Shelter kids killed me at Basketball.

Now of course those children may have been crying because I scared them when I said hello, and those men and women were probably frustrated at me because I filled out my immigration form incorrectly, and I couldn’t understand the ads so I started imagining them as pages from a very strange story book.  But it was an airport nonetheless, and they were simply people, and those are two things that are mostly the same the world over.

Eventually we made it out of the airport and into the van taking us to our summer home; Zhytomyr, Ukraine.  Zhytomyr is a larger Ukrainian city and people are everywhere; Babushkas (grandmothers) leading little pupsiks (cute little children) down the sidewalk, construction workers shoveling on endlessly, and strawberry sellers sitting on the street.

This is the local fire station, proudly flying the colors of Ukraine; yellow for the sunflowers and blue for the sky.

As we learned to take taxis, the tram, and even the occasional bus things started to settle in my mind.  And there was one moment when I realized, “This is it.  This place is my home for the next two months.”  I smiled.

I’m working with Last Bell Ministries, specifically with a part of their ministry called “the Shelter.”  The Shelter is a ministry to graduated Ukrainian orphans.  See, if you’re an orphan in Ukraine, you live in an orphanage and they put you through school up until ninth grade.

After that, the government gives you some money and you move out on your own.  So there are a bunch of confused and hurting fifteen-year-olds with nobody to teach them how to live, how to take care of themselves, how to be whole.  So they often turn to drugs, alcohol, prostitution, or even suicide as a result.

The Shelter is a place that hopes to change all that.  They work with these kids for four years after they graduate.  Eating meals with them, cleaning with them, playing games, teaching bible lessons, etc.  Their ministry and mission is to teach these kids what it means to live like a family, how to love, and how to be whole through Christ.

Check out this video to see more of what the Shelter is all about (you can find even more videos on Last Bell’s website).

The first time I went to the Shelter I played ‘Minus Five’ with some of the kids (which is the Ukrainian equivalent of the basketball game HORSE) and lost…badly.  After that, the kids showed me around though I couldn’t understand anything they said except for the occasional, “please” or “American”.

Later we had dinner together and it reminded me of the times I had worked with at-risk youth in Boystown, Chicago.  There’s something about sitting down for a meal together that is familiar even if you don’t know a single word spoken around you.

This is Miroslava, one of the lovely girls that The Shelter ministers to. In true Ukrainian fashion, she refuses to smile with her mouth open in photos.

Through the course of the night, seeing those smiling faces, it was easy to forget that most of these kids weren’t Christians, that statistically, some of them would go out later and get drunk, and that some of them might even prostitute themselves.  It was easy to forget this because, in The Shelter, they are safe and they know it.

This is their place of refuge from the troubles of the world and they have learned to let down their guards here.  And though changes in this kind of ministry are slow it is only because these kids have so far to come, so much to learn, are so slow to trust.  But just because results are slow and the work can be difficult does not mean it isn’t worth doing, quite the opposite is true!

Just thinking back to the smiles on their faces, those brief moments of happiness in a world of hurt, that’s all the proof that I need.  And I think again that this place is my home for the summer and these people will be my family and realize that I am blessed with more than I could have ever hoped or asked for.

Back in April 2009, when I saw the orphanage for the first time (click here to read about that experience), Mission to Ukraine had only been making their weekly visits for a year.

I was shocked to see so much color on Romaniv’s property.

Although it was obvious that MTU’s presence was having a huge impact on the boys, the orphanage was still a terrible, hellish place run by negligent caretakers and filled with the stench of squalor. As we drove towards the orphanage this time, I wondered what, if anything, had changed.

As we got close to Romaniv, Oksana turned to me and said, “Get ready.  There is a big surprise waiting for you there!”

“A surprise?” I thought.  “What in the world could she mean?”

I pondered this as we pulled up to the orphanage.  We unloaded the van and started walking to the classroom building.  That was when I did my first double take.

Flowers.  Lots of flowers!  Large, pink blossoms interspersed with yellow and red.  Row after row of pretty blue blossoms lining the path.

But that wasn’t all.   There were painted, rainbow colored benches.  Between the buildings there were picnic tables with bright green canopies above them.

Brand new desks (not cheap!) are a symbol of something much more profound going on beneath the surface.

This property, which once looked like an abandoned lot, now teemed with color and life.  I was shocked.

But then we went inside, and my shock turned to utter amazement.  There, on the floor of the once empty classroom was a semicircle of bright green and yellow desks.  The walls that used to have only old wooden benches were now home to colorfully painted bookshelves overflowing with toys.

The smell wasn’t bad at all.  The boys were clean and dressed.  And as they sat down to begin their weekly class, I heard something I never would have expected… silence.

When Mission to Ukraine started coming to the orphanage two years ago it was literally impossible for these boys to even form a line.  They were out of control.  Filthy.

Now, here they were sitting quietly, raising their hands when they wanted to participate, learning about the seasons and doing the motions to their favorite songs.  They took turns playing games, followed along as they learned a story from the Bible and jumped in with shouts of joy when it was time for their favorite pastime: making bracelets out of beads.

Playing games with a beach ball!

I sat with a couple of the boys and thought about how different everything was from just one year ago.  The joy, the life, the energy… it was all so surprising and new.  Then, during a break in the lesson, I heard the most shocking thing of all.

“We didn’t buy any of this,” Oksana told me. “The desks, the bookshelves, the flowers… It was all bought by the orphanage’s administration.”

Hearing this took my breath away.  This is the same administration that initially resisted the idea of MTU coming to visit once a week.  These are the people who once rolled their eyes and told the MTU folks, “You’re wasting your time… these boys are hopeless. They’re like animals.”

In the course of two years, Mission to Ukraine’s stubborn persistence and never-ending love for these boys has led to a radical transformation in the lives of not just the children, but their caretakers as well.  For the first time in this orphanage’s history, the staff is beginning to invest in the lives of these boys… to do more than the bare minimum.

Beading is the boys’ favorite hobby.

The kingdom of God, like a steady breeze, has been blowing away the smoke and the shadows in this place once filled only with hopelessness.

As we drove away from the orphanage, I thought about the beauty of what I had just seen.

In Matthew 25, Jesus implored his disciples to care for “the least of these.”  In just about every way I can think of, these boys fit that description completely.  The men and women of Mission to Ukraine have been following that call for two years, and their efforts are beginning to bear tremendous fruits.

But my thoughts then drifted to the bigger picture.

The truth is, all this transformation at Romaniv is only a glimmer of light in a much greater sea of darkness.  Within the very same region of Ukraine is an orphanage for disabled girls.  But the administration of that orphanage will not even let the staff of MTU come to visit.  Their hearts are hardened and only God’s direct intervention will begin to soften them.

And then there are the systemic injustices that make orphanages like Romaniv necessary in the first place; deep cultural stigmas attached to parents of disabled children, a broken governmental support system, widespread poverty…

Hope in the most unlikely of places…

There is much work to do if we ever want to see an end to the hopeless conditions once found at Romaniv.  There are many more walls to smash down before the kingdom can truly shine here in Ukraine.

But until that day comes, you and I can be confident of one thing… the staff of Mission to Ukraine will be here in Zhytomyr: hugging a girl with Down syndrome, wiping the chin of a boy with cerebral palsy, helping a girl with muscular dystrophy sit up straight in her chair and tying a beaded bracelet for a boy at Romaniv.

They’ll be here because they’ve tasted the kingdom of God.  They’ll be here because they’ve seen the hope of the gospel.

And they’ll be here because to their God, nothing is impossible…

So far, the experience has been fantastic. We’ve all really connected with our Ukrainian host ministries, we had a wonderful visit to the Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage (more on that soon!), and there has been a steady IV drip of delicious Borscht flowing into our bodies pretty much since we arrived.

Our interns Krystallin, Lauren and Chris at the Frankfurt airport.

In the next day or two, we will begin posting articles, travel journals, photo galleries and culture guides from our time in Zhytomyr. Some will be funny, some will be heart-breaking, but all, we hope, will inspire you to take the next steps in your journey towards a life committed to social justice, care for the oppressed and a deep desire to see the kingdom of God come in this world.

The team. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for us this summer!

I encourage you to make it a commitment to read all of our content this summer. A few minutes over coffee in the morning or during a break at work… that is all it will take.

In return, we will open your eyes to an exciting and often surprising part of the world. We will inspire you with stories of ordinary people who are living brave and selfless lives. We will give you practical ways to get involved with the organizations we write about…

And through it all, we will give you the opportunity to watch your own life be transformed!

So what are you waiting for? Add our site to your bookmarks, subscribe to our articles via email (click here), and get ready to go on a journey into the world next door!

And now, as we begin our preparations for the summer, I’d like to introduce you to our team of interns and give you a way to support them yourself!

Chris Cambell

Chris is a graduating senior majoring in Communication Studies at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. While we are in Ukraine, he will be working with a ministry called Last Bell.  Their mission in the city of Zhytomyr is to be an advocate for orphaned children who are at major risk of falling into drugs, alcohol and prostitution once being released from the ineffective  government orphanages.

Chris Cambell

Chris will spending his days with the orphans in Last Bell’s Shelter and Haven programs, writing articles focusing on the issues of cultural stigmas attached to orphans and the mentality of abandonment.

I am personally thrilled to see how he will capture the stark realities and unmistakable hope that exists among that community of “at-risk” teens…

Lauren Schneider

Lauren Schneider

Lauren is a sophomore Journalism major at Samford University in Birmingham, Alabama.  She will be spending her summer working with our partner ministry, Mission to Ukraine. MTU helps disabled orphans and provides crisis pregnancy counseling to stem the extraordinary tide of abortions in Zhytomyr.

Lauren’s focus for the summer will be on women’s rights in a post-soviet culture. Part of this will include a focus on Mission to Ukraine’s work with pregnant teens, but will also include their work with spousal abuse, widows and financial insecurity in single-parent homes.

It’s exciting to think about how Lauren will open our eyes to what real life is like in Zhytomyr and how God is working there…

Krystallin Baker

Krystallin Baker

Krystallin is a junior Communication Studies major at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago.  She will also be spending her summer with Mission to Ukraine, but her focus will be on their work with physically and developmentally disabled children.

From physical therapy sessions to home visits to trips out to the Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage, Krystallin will be focusing in on the plight of this incredibly ostracized community and the amazing dignity they are receiving through the work of Mission to Ukraine.

I can’t wait to see what new aspects of the kingdom of God will be opened up to each of us this summer!

Want to be a part?

Now, do you want to be a part of these interns’ experiences for the summer?

Right now, each intern is in the process of raising $5000 to cover their expenses for the summer.  For a poor college student, that’s a lot of money!  But you and I can help make this internship a reality for the team.

I have already supported each of them financially (I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to invest in these fantastic young leaders!).  Now would you consider doing the same?

Please head over to our Give page and donate now!

Or, if you’d like to receive support letters from Chris, Lauren and Krystallin, please give us your address below and they’ll mail you their letters.

Thanks for thinking about investing in the lives of these three awesome people!!!