What can I say about little Peter?  He has stolen my heart.

Every time I get discouraged by the injustice of this world, whenever I feel like the kingdom of God is just too far away, I think of Peter.  He represents for me some of the most beautiful examples of hope, love and reconciliation that I have ever seen.

The last time I spoke with Peter, he was lying in his bed (sharing a room with his amazing adoptive brother Taras).  I was leaving Ukraine the next morning and wanted to say goodbye.

Peter and three of his new sisters.

Peter’s muscular dystrophy has continued to advance, so he was extremely weak when I saw him.  I came into the room and sat down on the edge of his bed.  When Taras told him that I was there, Peter turned his head, using his hand to push his head in the right direction.

We shared a few words and I prayed for Peter, trying desperately not to burst into tears.

But the tears didn’t come from his condition.  They weren’t tears of sadness.  My tears for Peter were ones of gratitude.

Peter has a father.  Peter has a mother. Peter has siblings.  Peter has a home.

The kingdom of God may not be big and flashy, but for one little orphan in Ukraine, it was very, very real.

———–

If you want to read the whole saga of Peter’s adoption, check out www.worldnextdoor.org/tag/peter.  Otherwise, click below to read “Welcome Home!”

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What a fantastic summer!  

This June and July I took our three summer interns, Lauren, Chris and Krystallin, across the ocean for a two-month cross-cultural experience in Zhytomyr, Ukraine.  They worked with Mission to Ukraine and Last Bell, two incredible organizations bringing hope and light into places that have long been in darkness. 

Because I wasn’t pursuing a specific “assignment” myself, I had the opportunity to float between the ministries and to follow up with a few stories that began when I first visited Ukraine back in 2009. 

Me and the interns early on in the summer. What a great team!

I caught up with little Peter, finally adopted into a loving family, I re-visited Romaniv Orphanage and I participated in MTU’s summer camps… something I had only heard about before. 

I also started two new initiatives.  One is a dream of mine to get another boy adopted from the Romaniv Orphanage by a Ukrainian family.  The other is a fun new project designed to let us see the world from the eyes of children around the world. 

To read these articles and more, take a look below.  Maybe through it all you too will find a way to jump in with what God is doing in Ukraine! 

The Summer Begins!

Can your life really change over a cup of coffee? 

Click here to read this travel journal… 

Return to Romaniv

Do you want proof that the kingdom of God is powerful?  Read on… 

Click here to read this article…

Photo Gallery: The Second Chapter

The time has come for Romaniv to be taken to the next level… 

Click here to see this photo gallery…

The Marika Project

What if we could see the world through Marika’s eyes? 

Click here to read this article…

Welcome Home!

For little Peter, being adopted was only the beginning of the story… 

Click here to read this article… 

The Marika Project Begins!

Now that Marika has her very own camera, the Marika Project has officially begun! 

Click here to read this article…

Dima

For one disabled orphan in Ukraine there is hope.  But he needs YOU to act… 

Click here to read this article… 

Apologies!

Oh, the woes of inadequate internet access! 

Click here to read this article… 

Photo Gallery: Marika’s Work!

Camp from the eyes (and camera) of a six year old… 

Click here to see this photo gallery… 

Behind the Scrim

Now I know what lies behind the curtain… 

Click here to read this article…

This summer I had the privilege of working with Last Bell Ministries in Zhytomyr, Ukraine.  Their mission is to reach the children coming out of the Ukrainian orphanage system for Christ.  Through their daily lives and interactions, they teach these kids what it means to be loved by man and by God.   

As I walked alongside these wonderful people this summer, I was struck once more by the incredible power of community.  Statistics show that, if nothing is done, 70% of the boys will end up in prison, 60% of the girls will turn to prostitution, and 10% of all Ukrainian orphans will commit suicide before their 18^th birthdays.  Fortunately, the leaders at LBM are committed to creating a healthy community for these kids to live and grow in.    

This is Olya, a leader from The Haven with one of the amazing girls that just graduated from Orphanage number 4. Their relationship is just beginning and I can’t wait to see the good that comes out of this “family”.

And it’s working.  Change is possible if people are prayerfully committed to breaking the cycle of abuse and neglect.    

Though I only spent two short months in Ukraine, I did my best to chronicle the many stories of faith that I witnessed there.  You can read the articles I wrote on this journey below.   

Home for the Summer

If you like to dance disco or enjoy hitting mud with sticks, you just might be Ukrainian.   

Click here to read this article…   

Culture Guide: Learning Ukrainian like Evel Knievel

How to learn Ukrainian in five seconds flat…wait…I think my watch is busted.  

Click here to read this article…

Struggling to Find an Emotional Anchor

One just got out of prison. The other beat a kid half to death with a metal pipe.  What do they both need?  

Click here to read this article…

Training ‘Cross Country

I was dirty, I was smelly, I was smiling.  

Click here to read this article…  

Photo Gallery: Holiday at the Sea

Water, water everywhere but what’s the point of it all?  

Click here to see this photo gallery…  

Trying My Patience

Is he a beast or a baby?  

Click here to read this article…  

Photo Gallery: Let’s Go Camping!

It started out as a simple vacation, but it turned into something far more significant.  

Click here to see this photo gallery…

Breaking the Cycle

Can a tortured child ever learn to forgive? 

Click here to read this article…

“Popeetzee!” she yelled, while shaking her fist at me, before erupting in a fit of laughter.  My translator quickly explained what the word meant. It turns out I was going to get punched in the face by a small girl I had just met at The Shelter.

Luckily Masha, the girl in question, was only joking.  But it was exactly the type and tone of interactions I had with her all summer.  One minute she’d tell me I was handsome, the next she’d say she was going to pummel me, and then she’d promptly demand I give her a million dollars.

I knew I wanted to write about Masha from the first moment I saw her.  There was something different about her.  First of all, she was very small.  So small that I thought it was another one of her jokes when she told me she was twenty years old. 

Despite her size, she radiated strength and confidence.  She carried herself more authoritatively than most grown men I’ve known. 

Probably much more than I do myself.  She was someone you wouldn’t want to mess with.

I kept trying to get an interview with her, so I could hear her life story.  Unfortunately, she agreed…about a half a dozen times. 

Masha might look like any young girl to you, but there’s quite a lot sitting under the surface.

I heard about how she was born in 1904 and suffered through famine.  I listened attentively as she told me of her movie star life in Hollywood, married and with four kids.  I almost clapped when I heard her heroic stories as a commander in WWII.  It was fun to hear her go on and on but I wanted the truth.

My last week in Ukraine, she finally sat down and told me the real story of her life.  And I started wishing that some of her previous fictions could be facts instead.

She told me that was sent to the toddler orphanage when she was six months old.  Her mother was mentally ill and both of her parents had begun drinking heavily.  As a result, they stopped taking care of their children.  Masha’s grandmother took in the older kids, but didn’t want the responsibility of raising an infant.

There are some great places for orphaned Ukrainian toddlers to go.  One example is the House of the Child in Zhytomyr.  The facility there is fantastic and the staff is very friendly.  However, that sort of safe haven is a best case scenario and anything but normative.  Unfortunately Masha was not lucky enough to be sent to such a wonderful place.

Masha explained that at her toddler orphanage (in another town), children were not only neglected but outright abused.  She told me that her caretakers and directors were not people of faith or even of common decency.  And some of the horrors she endured under their watch are simply unspeakable.

When Masha was in the toddler orphanage one of her punishments was to be chained to a radiator for hours at a time.

I asked her if, looking back, she learned anything good from all that tragedy.  She just looked at me and said, “What lessons can you learn from living in hell?”

Masha then told me that when was seven, she was moved into an Orphanage just outside of Zhytomyr.  She told me that living in the orphanage is like living in a prison.  There’s a very distinct societal structure and that you can move up in this structure through one of three ways, physical violence, verbal violence, or being very good in your studies (because everyone would treat you well so you’d help them with their work). 

Masha explained that she chose to make a name for herself through physical violence.  She fought hard and she fought dirty, using everything that her previous caretakers had taught her about the world of pain.  And for once, she was respected.  She was a force to be reckoned with, ordering other orphans around, making them do whatever she wanted.

The infamous Orphanage #4 where Masha made a name for herself, kicking and screaming.

It was in this environment, that she began regularly drinking and smoking.  She was smoking every day by fifth grade, having first tried a cigarette at age four when her mother brought her some at the toddler orphanage.  By eighth grade, she was a full-blown alcoholic as well. 

Then she finished ninth grade and was all set to start trade school to become a construction worker.  The orphans don’t get to choose their majors, the majors are assigned to them depending on what spots are open.  At this point, she hated her parents.  She couldn’t understand why they threw her away like they did but she wouldn’t ask for fear that she would try to kill them when they answered.

Enter The Shelter.  They offered her a safe place, a family, a new way of life.  But she didn’t accept it.  How could she?  You can’t trust anyone when you’ve been through what she has. 

Still, the leaders of The Shelter tried.  They were present in her life.  They were unwavering, even when tested time and time again.  And finally, cracks started running up and down the stone covering her heart.  

While on a trip to the Black Sea with The Shelter, something happened.  Something Masha won’t tell me about.  She says it’s too personal.  Whatever it was, she says that’s what brought her to God; that’s what broke the stone and set her beating heart free.

Two months later, she quit drinking.  Two years later she quit smoking.  She said giving up alcohol was easy but smoking was a different story.  It was one of the hardest things she’s ever done.  She was only able to do it with the help of Oksana, the same leader from The Shelter that helped bring her to Christ.

Her life is far from perfect but she’s found a family and a purpose. She is happy. And that is exactly the sort of hope that we must never forget. We have a big God who does big things and no one is beyond His reach.

Nervously, I asked about her parents.  I know, all too well, how hard it can be to forgive abusive or neglectful family members.  She wouldn’t talk about her father but says that her mother’s mental illness has only gotten worse.  Then I found out that Masha has used a considerable portion of her last check from the government to make sure her mother will be properly cared for while Masha is away.

See, Masha is getting ready to go off on a six month journey.  This year she will be attending Youth With A Mission’s Discipleship Training School.  She’ll study the bible in a classroom for three months, in Kiev, and then spend the next three months doing missionary work with YWAM in other parts of the world.

Her dreams for the future?

To become a missionary.  To love and care for other orphans.  To become a millionaire and give it all away.  But she still wants to make sure her mother is going to be alright.  The same mother she wanted to kill only a few years ago. 

The Shelter staff knows that violence begets violence and hate begets hate, but the same principal is doubly true for kindness and forgiveness.  Our God’s got them both in spades if we are but willing to step out in faith and break the cycle.  And I thank God that they have.  For it’s plain to see the Lord has worked through them in Masha’s life.  From victim to victimizer to saint, oh what a very long way she has come.

I used to participate in my high school’s musical theater program.  Singing, dancing, acting… It was a blast.  And although I was usually up front in a costume myself, I loved watching our tech team “wow” audiences with interesting lighting effects, cool set pieces and dramatic sound effects.

One of the most versatile tools they used was called a scrim, a semi-transparent curtain that could be lit from different sides to make it anywhere from see-through to completely opaque.  Actors would often perform behind the scrim, visible only as shadows. Throw in a fog machine, and the tech team could create quite a bit of ambiance. 

Me with my new friend Sasha at camp.

But then, in just about every musical, there would come an especially dramatic point in which the scrim would be lifted and everything behind it would be instantly revealed in all its color, brightness and vibrancy.

What was once vague and undefined became crystal clear…

Raising the Scrim

Well, I’ve thought about scrims quite a bit this summer as I’ve floated between the ministries of Last Bell and Mission to Ukraine. 

You see, back home in suburban Indianapolis, things like injustice, joy, evil and the kingdom of God are sort of hard to see… They are like shadows, fighting and dancing behind a scrim.  With a constant barrage of advertising, entertainment, fast food, technology and work, it’s easy to let the important issues of this world slide out of our minds.

Oleg, who had a fantastic time at camp this year!

But for me, coming to Zhytomyr and joining in with the work of these ministries was like having the scrim raised.  Brokenness, justice, life, evil and joy came into sharp focus in ways I never would have expected. 

Here in front of me was a concrete realization of the kingdom of God breaking into this world. 

So, for my sake as much as yours, I’d like to share a few of the things I saw behind the curtain.  I want to get them down on paper.  Because in just a couple of weeks, I’ll be back behind the scrim of suburbia… and I don’t want to forget what I saw.

Part of the Family

Every summer, Mission to Ukraine holds several camps.  Children and young people from all over the region come to participate in an experience that is hands down their favorite part of the year.  Our interns Krystallin and Lauren have already written a bit about the camps, and as you can see from their articles, these summer programs are unbelievably life-changing for the kids.

I was lucky enough to participate in two of these camps myself.  But because my Ukrainian and Russian language skills are pretty much limited to “hello,” “thank you,” and “Please give me apple juice for my elephant” (true!), I couldn’t communicate much with the campers.  So I spent most of my time just observing.

I watched as disabled children were loved on in ways they have never experienced before.  I saw beautiful kids from MTU’s Life-Savers program (here only because their mothers chose not to abort them) run and dance and play.  There in front of me were elderly babushkas smiling as they heard about Jesus for the first time. 

It was the kingdom.  And it was beautiful.

Alyosha, one of MTU’s life-savers kids. If it wasn’t for the caring counselors at MTU, he wouldn’t be alive today.

Images from both camps have been seared into my mind forever.  Little Bagdan, struggling with muscular dystrophy, running as best as he could to give me a hug.  Sweet Anton, unable to communicate with words, smiling from ear to ear.  Lovable Oleg, out of his village for the first time in his life, singing quietly along to his favorite camp tune…

In the “real world,” these kids struggle to be accepted, loved and understood.  But at camp, they are all just part of the family. 

Not Alone

Another powerful image from the summer came from time that I spent with the Shelter, one of Last Bell’s two community centers for at-risk orphans.

These kids, though still a little rough around the edges, would literally be out on the streets if it wasn’t for the Shelter.  After years of abuse, trauma and abandonment, these teenage orphans have every right to be cynical and furious with the world.

But they aren’t. 

If you read the articles by our other intern, Chris, you can see just how alive and hopeful they are.  Surrounded by a surrogate “family” – with mothers, fathers and even younger siblings – these young people are blossoming. 

Just the other day, I spent the night at the Shelter.  Chris and I went with some of the boys to play laser tag at a nearby mall (and got clobbered!).  We grabbed ice cream at Zhytomyr’s only McDonalds and later sat around eating watermelon in the Shelter’s small kitchen. 

Instead of drinking, doing drugs or getting into prostitution to make a few extra bucks, these kids were enjoying life with their family.  It was beautiful.

Kids from Last Bell’s other community center, the Haven. Photo by Chris Cambell.

The next morning, we sat around the breakfast table telling jokes and eating pancakes.  As I looked from face to face, the kingdom was once again was thrown into sharp focus.  Jesus spent most of his time hanging out with the outcasts and “ne’er-do-wells” of this world.  Now I can see the reason why…

Hope.  Where there should, by all accounts, be none.

The Sea

There is one final image I’ll leave here that I think sums up the summer really well.

Every year, MTU brings six or seven boys from the Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage to their summer camps. 

The boys, wearing bright, brand new t-shirts in all primary colors, get to participate in each of the camp’s many activities.  They play games, hang out with super-cool volunteers, sing songs… In fact, it is such a highlight of their year that they think camp is called something it’s not. 

Vitalik from Romaniv Orphanage. He had a blast at “the sea”!

Here in Ukraine, the ultimate, ideal vacation is a trip to the sea.  Many people here talk about going, but few can afford to make the trip.  It shouldn’t come as a surprise, then, that the Romaniv boys repeat one thing in the weeks and months leading up to camp…

“We’re going to the sea!”

The Front of the Parade

Such hope.  Such life.  Here in Zhytomyr it is all so crystal clear.

The broken, lost and powerless are being loved, honored and respected.   The abandoned, forgotten and outcast are being drawn into a long and steady embrace.

I’ve realized recently that “The last shall be first in the kingdom” is not just some saccharine ideal.  Looking into the faces of disabled children and abandoned orphans this summer, I’ve come to a new understanding of the upside-down kingdom of God.

These are the people standing hand-in-hand with Jesus.  These are the children cradled in the arms of God.  When the kingdom someday comes in all its power, they will be the standard bearers marching at the front of the parade.

In the States, we tend to think of the kingdom of God as a vague and blurry future thing.  Nothing more than shadows dancing behind a scrim. But here in Zhytomyr with Mission to Ukraine and Last Bell, the scrim has been raised.  In sharp clarity and color, the true message of the gospel is shouted out:

“The kingdom of God is at hand!”

“Chreeza, Chreeza!  Photo, photo!” was Viktor’s mantra the entire time The Haven was at the Azov Sea.  After three days, my patience was wearing thin. 

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.

Recently I had the pleasure to accompany The Haven on a trip to the Azov Sea.  They were celebrating the ninth grade graduation of the orphans from Orphanage #4.  To be honest, I was a bit skeptical in the beginning…

At the Lviv train station, I said goodbye to the rest of the World Next Door Team and found a nice wooden seat to pass the night in.  My train didn’t leave until 9:45 in the morning.  I looked up at a clock and it read 7:00pm. 

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.

It’s amazing how much we rely on non-verbal cues when communicating, isn’t it?  Every time you or I are having a conversation, we’re performing thousands of subtle actions to help us get across what we’re trying to say.

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!

“This is Dima.  He was just released from prison and we’re very glad to have him back.” Andre & Oksana, two leaders who live at The Shelter informed me, speaking in a tone most people use to describe recent family vacations.  I was taken aback.  All I could do was stand there, smiling stupidly, in the middle of a mall food court hoping I had heard them wrong.

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.