Going to War

It took me three weeks to get ready to go. I googled, texted friends, and traipsed through sporting goods stores to find the best things. I got the warmest, the lightest, the easiest, the most waterproof. I learned about “warm when wet”, solar-powered power banks, and exactly how much protein can be found in different types of protein bars. I packed bags full of snacks (including creamer for my coffee), detergent to do my own laundry, wipes for my face and body, extra pony-tail holders, work gloves, and a variety of medicines. I was ready. I was ready to go to war.

After ten days in Ukraine, my muscles are sore. I have two massive bruises on my legs from unrecallable encounters with unforgiving objects. My new coat and shoes are dirty (which is an improvement from the muddy filth they were at various times throughout the trip). My snacks are gone. My feet hurt. I am tired.

And all I can think about is what a luxury, what a dadgum privilege, it is to go to war. We should all be so lucky to knowingly prepare for war like I did, to seek it out…rather than have war, uninvited, arrive at our own front door.

I went to Ukraine to work – I felt called to help. I wanted to get my hands dirty and DO something. While I believe that happened, I’m now painfully aware of how much work is still left to be done…and that’s something that’s going to keep me up at night.

Because here’s the thing, Ukraine needed our help before the war. The war has only placed a giant exclamation mark on top of a country that has been staring down disparities for decades. While the Ukrainian people are being attacked in their cities and villages, the needs of their fellow citizens, especially those in more rural areas, are only being further neglected. The elderly, the orphans, and the disabled are further ostracized as the country pools all its resources to fight an iconic Goliath.

I (with a team of other Americans) spent my days using my hands and feet. I packed and delivered food supply kits for those in rural communities. I organized a supply warehouse full of essentials for refugees.  I gave chocolate and supplies to the elderly in nursing homes. I held babies in one orphanage and played games with children at another. I visited Ukrainian soldiers in the hospital. I handed out bananas and juice to mentally and physically disabled individuals hidden away in a mountain facility. I chopped and stacked firewood to keep refugees warm. I packaged medical first-aid kits for soldiers. I unloaded and re-loaded and unloaded and re-loaded trucks and vans full of supplies. I cried, I prayed, I pulled back in some moments and dove headfirst into others.

I met amazing and resilient people. I ate their food. I spoke their language (not with any type of proficiency or tact but I want to document the effort). I shook their hands. I hugged them. I went to their church. And there are two things I want to remember:

1. God is sovereign and I am not. Despite my best efforts to control and understand everything that happens, I’m actually not in charge here…and when staring into the faces of people who are scared, displaced, alone, and in need, it’s hard to see God’s plan tangled amidst the despair. As Hillary Scott sang, “Sometimes I’ve gotta stop and remember that you’re God, and I am not, so thy will be done.”

I don’t have to understand His plans. I don’t have to see them or even agree with them. He doesn’t ask me to do that. I just have to trust that He’s a good God and then I need to (sometimes daily), put this life, with all its looming questions, back into His capable hands.

2. Ukraine needs our help. They need our prayers, our money, our supplies, and to know we stand behind them. I want to be clear in saying that I fully understand that life in America can be challenging. We each face different battles on any given day. However, I also want to be clear in saying that for most Americans, the battles you are facing are not the same as the ones being faced by the Ukrainian people. As news coverage about the atrocities committed by Russia has decreased, I implore you to think about them today. Send up a prayer. Donate. Research what’s been happening. Let your heart feel theirs.

If you’re looking for a place to donate, I can definitely vouch for Family of Christ (donation information is available in the bio). Follow along to see the situation on the ground.

As I try to adjust back into a world of comfy mattresses, a traditional 9-5 job, and days uninterrupted by air sirens and talk of war, I’m unsure of what my next steps should be. However, I am confident that as Mary Anne Radmacher said, “I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.”