The idea was to give donated digital cameras to children so that they could show us their perspective on the world.  As a pilot run, we gave a camera to a feisty little six year old named Marika (hence the name of the project).  Her “assignment” was to capture Mission to Ukraine’s summer camp from her point of view.

On our upcoming trips to Haiti, India and Cambodia we will continue to give cameras to children so that we can post their work here on World Next Door.

But for now, it’s time to kick off our inaugural Marika Project Photo Gallery…

 

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We are continuing to collect gently used digital cameras for future Marika Project locations.  If you would like to donate yours, please fill out the form below.

Camp is family for kids with disabilities. Normally, these kids live isolated lives, unable to even leave their homes. But at camp they gather around tables filled with friendly faces. They are welcomed into the family of God. And this experience changes their lives.

Sasha, whose life has been changed forever at MTU's camp.

Here is a glimpse of a few kids who were changed by being part of this family.

Sasha

Sasha is 11 years old and lives with muscular dystrophy. He is a sweet boy despite losing his mobility in the last few years. Not long ago he ran around like any other kid his age, but now he is confined to a wheelchair.

One day counselors asked the kids in Sasha’s small group what they wanted more than anything. Sasha’s answer: to walk once more.

At camp Sasha isn’t alone in this struggle. At camp he can express his fears and frustrations to understanding leaders and kids who have the same problems. And this year at camp, Sasha gave his life to God. Now Sasha will never be alone again.

Oleg

Oleg smiling wide as he participated in the camp's Special Olympics.

Oleg also left his solitary life in the village to come to camp. But for him, this was an even bigger deal.  For 16 year old Oleg, camp was the first time he had ever even left his village. Ever.

Oleg has a mental disability. And because he has never been in a group of kids before, he hasn’t learned appropriate group behavior. Oleg brought us all a lot of laughter and a few moments of frustration as he slowly learned how to interact with others. Sometimes from across the room I heard his joyful whistling or his incessant cry of “Mama!”

As camp progressed Oleg learned how to sit through a Bible lesson quietly and join in during games. He spent time around positive male figures, something missing from his life in the village. Oleg went from being withdrawn and fearful to sharing smiles and laughter with new-found friends. At camp he traded isolation for being part of a family.

Nastya

Another great kid I met at camp was Nastya. Nastya is a smart and kindhearted girl. Due to her advanced muscular dystrophy, Nastya is wheelchair bound and cannot communicate verbally. Instead, she communicates by pointing at letters on a chart and spelling out words.

A boy enjoying craft time, a treat for kids who don't have this opportunity often.

At camp, Nastya was surrounded by people who took the time to get to know her via this letter chart. Camp was the kingdom in action for Nastya, because she was valued and understood there. She joined in on small group discussions, games, and made new friends, despite her disability.

“Proud of You”

On one of the last nights at camp, Pastor Dima finished the evening session by asking each parent to find their child. He asked them to put their arms around their son or daughter, to look them in the eyes and to share words of affirmation with them. The room was soon filled with moms and dads embracing their kids.

A meal at camp through which MTU's staff works hard to provide balanced nutrition for the kids.

Tears streamed down every face as parents took the time to speak words like “I am sorry,” “I love you,” and “I am so proud of you!” to their children. I felt my own eyes fill with tears as I watched children, some for the first time, experience what it means to be part of a loving family.

For kids with disabilities, belittled by the world and isolated from humanity, Mission to Ukraine’s summer camp is otherworldly. At camp they are part of a community that loves, understands, and accepts them just as they are.

I think they would, with me, echo the words of an old church hymn; “I’m so glad that I’m part of the family, the family of God.”

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.

Coming from the girl who still gets turned around in the city where she’s lived for twenty years, I suppose “expert” is a little strong.

Zhytomyr is the perfect size city for walking, a convenient and healthy (not to mention free!) mode of transportation.

But I’m turning over a new leaf. After years of obliviously following people and expecting them to get me to my destination, I’m taking a new step. And what better place to learn than a foreign country?

Here are the three things I’ve learned to keep myself from taking a forty-five minute shortcut home from the mall ever again.

Buy a map.

Let’s be honest, when was the last time you used a map? And no, GPS doesn’t count. Other than the map to get me around Disney World or to find the food court in the mall, I don’t believe I’ve ever used one.

Recognizing letters in the street names (my attempt at reading) can come in handy. That is, if you can find a street sign.

Try to find a map that isn’t too crowded and busy, making it hard to read and very distracting. Mark where you are staying and other key locations that you’ll be travelling to and from and write down their addresses. Also make sure you know the size of the city compared to the scale of the map, otherwise “turn left in two blocks” will turn into your daily workout and a nice tour of the side of the city you’ve never seen before.

Mark out the important places on the map so that if all else fails, you can stare blankly and point.

The most important things to figure out are where you are on the map and what direction you are heading. Unless you’re one of those mystical non-humans who can instantly know that they’re facing north northwest and walking to a house on the east side of the road and that the wind is blowing in with a southwestern current (hint: not me), then orienting yourself is your number one priority. Otherwise, you’ll learn very quickly that…

It’s okay to wander.

Whether it’s a wrong turn or just a half-mile detour to find one of the three street signs in the city, it’s completely acceptable to do a bit of harmless wandering. Yes, it’s slightly embarrassing to walk past a group of people four times with your map out, smiling sheepishly each time. But it is better than convincing yourself that you remember seeing that statue somewhere, right?

Generally, it isn’t more than 15 or 20 hryvnia ($2 or $3) to take a taxi anywhere around the city.

And while it may sound like a scene right out of Taken, asking for directions is usually okay. Just try not to walk up to the smarmy man standing in the shadows of the alley while loudly pronouncing to the world that you’re a lost American. Usually, nice looking people on the street can be trusted to at least point you in the right direction, if you’ll believe them.

Memorize the public transportation system.

You know people are going to ask why you’re an hour late when you live twenty minutes away, so you might as well blame it on traffic or something other than your lack of directional capabilities.

Public transportation is great for two things: a little rest from walking and people watching.

Learn the routes of the different transportation throughout the city. Buses, trams, and trolleys all have numbers and run various courses from one end to the other. They aren’t very expensive and they provide a great opportunity for people watching and expanding your vocabulary (in ways that Rosetta Stone could never do). Not only do you learn the hip street slang, but you actually get a real life look at the culture and the way the people and society work.

And if you don’t want to get yelled at by a babushka on the trolley, make sure you give up your seat for any mother and child that need one. Oops.

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Now that you’ve taken a lesson from this modern day Magellan, there’s just one more thing to remember: never admit that you’re lost.

My day began with a ride to the end of the tram line. As I walked up to the dilapidated “dorm” where Tanya lives, children and stray dogs ran through a dusty yard. Upon entering the building my eyes roamed over dressers, cabinets, and various odds and ends stuffed throughout the hallways. I climbed a steep stairway to reach the second floor where my hosts awaited me.

The last stop on the tram where my day with Tanya began.

A light knock and the door was opened wide by Mila. Her face held a welcoming smile and she excitedly motioned my translator and me in. Mila lives with her wheelchair bound daughter, Tanya, who has cerebral palsy. Tanya’s cousin also lives with them, and the three share a home in the “dorm.”

The dorm is an old building that once housed local factory workers. The people there share a community bathroom and kitchen with the rest of their floor. Tanya’s home consists of two small rooms, one of which all three women sleep in every night. The room I walked into was crammed with chairs, couches, cabinets, a table, and a small refrigerator.

We began our day with a walk around the “neighborhood.” Now, before you envision long winding sidewalks, grassy lawns, and cul-de-sacs let me explain the location.

The dorm where Tanya and her mother live.

We walked by crumbling buildings that used to be some of the finest factories in the region. We trudged down cracked sidewalks and roads that were once pathways for droves of laborers. We stopped to sit by a formerly beautiful fountain, now a cement trash pit.

But Tanya didn’t seem fazed by her neighborhood’s appearance. She didn’t seem put-out by the fact that her wheelchair could barely be pushed along the rutted path. Instead she smiled and laughed as she shared this piece of her life with me.

After our journey we went back to the dorm for lunch. Mila came down and gathered three strong men from the dorm to carry Tanya up the steep stairway. As the men lifted Tanya up the stairs I realized how important community is to Tanya and her mother. Without community, Tanya wouldn’t be able to leave her home.

Mila shared over dinner this need for strong community. Some of the people in the dorm are helpful and understanding of Tanya’s disability. Men are willing to carry Tanya up the stairs as I had witnessed.

But some are not. One woman even forbade her son from helping Tanya. My mind reeled. How could someone be so inconsiderate? But Tanya and Mila didn’t seem to harbor any hard feelings toward them. They persist in living out God’s command to love your neighbor as yourself.

One of the abandoned factories in the “neighborhood.”

In fact, Tanya told us about a girl in the dorm who comes over and makes fun of Tanya because of her disability. When people ask Tanya why she allows the girl to come over, Tanya replies, “We’re all sinful. Christ forgave me, I’ll forgive her.”

At one point during dinner Tanya asked me a question that I found rather strange. “Who are your favorite people? Pretty people or ugly people?” I was taken off guard and said something about how I didn’t have a preference.

“Good,” said Tanya, “my mom and I like all people too.” Mila agreed and added, “Outward appearance doesn’t matter. They were all created in the image of God.” Here I was sitting in a tiny, little dorm eating a humble meal with people who were speaking and living the truth of Christ.

I learned a lot from Tanya that day. She spends her life dependent upon the help others give her. She could be resentful and angry about the life she has been given. But instead she focuses on the most valuable thing on this earth. People.

Tanya working on some crafts we brought for her.

That’s why the dilapidated buildings and crumbling sidewalks bothered me but didn’t bother Tanya. Tanya was focused on spending time with me. She couldn’t care less if her neighborhood meets Better Homes and Gardens’ standards.

By the time I left the next morning, I no longer felt any sadness about Tanya’s living conditions. Tanya is rich in the kingdom of God. She understands the value of people, something I too often forget.

Instead of running around all day doing meaningless things, she is focused on building the community of God. It doesn’t matter that Tanya spends most of her days at home in the dorm. She is busy building God’s kingdom and seeing the value in His children all around her.

And what could be more meaningful then that?

When I was first told that I was going to go with the ladies to another village to listen in on one of the abstinence talks, I almost felt uncomfortable. This word had an interesting tinge to it in my mind. It was a slightly different take on the well known ‘no sex before marriage’ mantra that has been drilled into my head since birth from various Christian communities. But at the same time I knew that, at least in the United States, abstinence programs were often ineffective and dull (and occasionally received a good eye-roll).

I was confused. It is obvious why a crisis pregnancy center would speak about abstinence. That seems completely logical to me. But is this really the most effective way to be teaching about sex to a group of people? Won’t everyone snicker and become bitter about being told what to do?

The counselors from Mission to Ukraine travel around to local villages to inform women on the harmful medical affects of birth control and abortion.

I decided to figure out the reasoning behind the program by talking to an important group of people that the program is aimed at – the youth.

My camp interpreter and I have become friends.  She is my age, so I decided to sit down with her and her friend and ask them some general questions to get a feel on the cultural ideals floating around young people in Ukraine.

Now, I realize that I can only look at this from the perspective that I know: my own. And whether or not Ukrainian ideals are the same as the American ones, it still seemed an interesting comparison to make and a good way to sort out my thoughts.

So, as we sat around on the beds in their room, I asked them different questions about what they believe.  For example, what does the general public think about different things such as birth control, STDs, and abortion?

Most schools here have a sex education class every year, but most kids get their information from the Internet and television. My interpreter said that people are interested in the process of sex, but not in any of the consequences because no one thinks anything bad will happen to them.

Several MTU billboards and posters can be seen around Zhytomyr, getting the word out to the whole city.

She said that overall, people are not well educated because they really don’t care, taking on the mindset that ‘it will never happen to me.’ She threw in an interesting phrase that explained where this mindset might have originated (apparently it’s a common one used throughout Ukraine and the surrounding countries): “There was no sex in the Soviet Union, there was love.”

She then explained what it meant.  There were no movies, music, books, information or talk on sex in the Soviet era.  While it is not the same anymore, many people here still consider anything related to sexuality a conversational taboo.

My interpreter and her friends explained that most girls are okay with abortion, even though they might think that they’d never do it. In Zhytomyr, abortions are readily available, only needing parental consent if you’re under 16.  They only cost $25.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I remember hearing the talk that was given to the group of women I visited in the village. Instead of Sveta standing in front of everyone and condemning them to hell if they have sex outside of marriage, she was actually helping them.

She talked about the consequences of different birth control methods, and explained the lies and myths that float around society about women’s health and other issues. She was aiding women in making better life decisions, not commanding them from on high.

So much of what we learn as children growing up in the church becomes cliché and lackluster as times goes on.

That’s when I realized why MTU takes this approach and how it is effective. Educating women on the medical effects of abortion and various birth control methods is a way to not only reduce the number of abortions, but to improve these women’s lives.

Since I’ve come to this understanding, I’ve realized that MTU’s mission is quite remarkable. Thought it may seem hopeless at times, seeing someone fight for what they believe in has given me a new perspective on hope. Their odds don’t deter them, they only push them further, to go above and beyond in how they love and care for other human beings.

As I see the effect that this mission is having on the community here in Zhytomyr, it is continually becoming clearer that God is at work in people’s hearts. He has the power to drastically change lives and He uses His people to do so. He’s doing it all over the world. As I watch this play out before my own eyes, I can only hope that He would use me in a similar way.

And if you choose allow God to use you, to work and serve for the same cause, you’ll be able to feel the encouragement and the truth found in spurring each other on.

And when the body of Christ is fighting for something as a whole, who on earth is to say that it can’t be overcome?

Good thing Barry told us to be flexible.  As it turns out, my host family does not speak English. Not even a little.

At first the idea of living with strangers who don’t speak English intimidated me. Then I met Pastor Peter and Vera. Now I am an expert in the art of communicating sans speech. In fact, living with my hosts is one of the highlights of my trip. So enjoy a few tips on me.

My host, Pastor Peter, sharing God's love with village children.

1. Relax. After getting over the initial shock of my situation, I reminded myself to relax. Not being able to communicate via words really isn’t as big of a deal as you might think. It probably won’t result in an untimely death or an earth shattering catastrophe (though I have wondered if perhaps I should learn the words for fire, run, and help).

2. Shut up. Next remember that speaking louder and more slowly will not increase the odds of being understood. If they don’t speak English and you don’t speak Ukrainian, no amount of slowing down your speech will change this. It’s better to revert to a silent stare down than to a screaming match.

Even if I can't speak a word, I am always fed delicious food.

3. Point. Pointing is an art form I have begun to master. Often what needs to be said can be demonstrated through pointing at objects in the vicinity. However, sometimes pointing results in confusion. I have accidentally asked for salt not sugar, and indicated I would be home at 7 not 8.

4. Just agree! This has become my new motto. Once I mastered the simple words for no, yes, please, and thank you I realized it’s really just best to say yes. If you agree with whatever is going on, things tend to go much more smoothly. Disagreeing requires an explanation and a revision of plans. This is virtually impossible and proves more frustrating than just saying yes. Use caution though. I once unintentionally agreed that I was dating the guy next to me.

5. Laugh often! I frequently laugh at myself. There are so many moments I have no idea what is going on. Sometimes I even look incredibly foolish because I misunderstand the situation. One time I stayed overnight at a home without a translator. I think I was told to remove my clothes, put on a robe, and wash my feet. Honestly though, I had no idea what was going on. I did my best and laughed at myself as I stood in a tub of water wearing a stranger’s robe.

Hearing God's Word in two languages is a powerful testimony of His universal love.

6. Be creative! I discovered that if you really feel starved for conversation, you can always find someone –or something– to talk to. For example, I named a spider in my bathroom Bob. Whenever I got lonely I found Bob and had a good old chat. Of course eventually I had to kill him, but you get the idea.

7. Witness God’s love. The biggest lesson I have learned living here is that God’s love surpasses all language barriers. Pastor Peter and Vera (my hosts) are quite possibly the sweetest, most hospitable couple I have ever met. Although we don’t speak the same language, every day they communicate God’s love to me. When Vera gives me a big hug goodbye every morning and prays over me, and when Pastor Peter sings me songs on the way to MTU, I feel God’s love.

I hope one day you too find yourself in a situation where no one speaks your language. Remember to relax, be creative, and enjoy a few laughs on yourself.

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!