Reflections

In the deep days of autumn, when nearly all of the leaves have fallen and the morning frost whispers about the coming of winter, each new day is a transition into change.  My time in Ukraine has been marked with many transitions, not only for Mission to Ukraine but for my own life as well.  And last Friday, in Romaniv, we embarked upon a different type transition - one that I hope will echo deep into the heart of Romaniv and resonate into the life of each boy.

Since Ukrainian law officially classifies children with disabilities as "unteachable", charitable organizations, such as Mission to Ukraine, are their only hope of learning and growing.  In fact, before MTU started visiting Romaniv, the boys lived no better than animals.  Now, after three years of faithfully teaching the boys basic developmental knowledge and key biblical truths, MTU is stepping into a new role: teaching the boys functional, practical skills for every day living.

Not only is this a new concept for Romaniv, but it will be a new method of teaching for MTU.  While the bible groups with the other large groups of boys will continue, MTU will now lead functional lessons with a  small group of six boys for a trial program.  By downsizing the number of boys in the lesson, more concentrated attention can be focused, thus fostering a more effective learning experience.

Last Friday we held our first session with the small group.  It was amazing to see how well the boys responded to the lesson.  Their eagerness and excitement was simply electrifying.  It was as if they knew they were special - destined for something bigger.  At one point during the lesson we gave each of them a mirror to look at themselves.   One by one, as the boys held up the mirror to look at a reflection that they seldom (if ever) see, I watched as captivation and wonderment set fire in their eyes.  

  

Since that day, I have been thinking a lot about reflections.  It's simply amazing how a mirror can take light and bend it in such a way to produce an exact replica of something, preserving the quality of the original image.  I think in a lot of ways our hearts serve the same purpose.  Whatever we deeply cherish in life is often reflected by our hearts, caught and perceived by the eyes of those around us.  But the truth is - we are called to reflect something so much more.  We are called to reflect the light of Christ and shine His very likeness into the darkness of the world.

Watching those boys look at their own reflections in the mirror, I am forced to ask myself the question: "What is my heart reflecting?"

Valik

“What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.” 

- Walt Whitman

Meet Valik - a 22-year old Romaniv boy with Down syndrome.  He doesn't speak, nor does he join the other boys in activities.  During MTU's lessons, he can typically be found sitting on the benches, lost in his own mysterious world. 


Abandoned at birth by his parents and relatives, he has spent the 22 years of his life under the care of the Ukrainian government.  He was first sent to one of the many children's facilities where they send all unwanted infants and children with disabilities.  After 8 years of living in the children's home, he was sent to the Romaniv Orphanage where he remains to this day.  Four years ago, when he turned 18, he was questioned, evaluated, and ultimately declared to be untrainable, untreatable, and unteachable by the courts of Ukraine.  In addition to forever prohibiting him from being adopted, this status has permanently doomed him to a life in the Ukrainian government system.  Though difficult to imagine, his years at Romaniv will by far be the best of his life.  And, unfortunately, those years are coming to an end.  Soon, Romaniv will be forced by Ukrainian law to release him to a different facility - the very same facility where they send convicted criminals and the clinically insane.  There he will live out the remainder of his years - which, undoubtedly, will not be many.

I often wonder what it would take to change such a broken system. The thought of changing the overall disability structure in Ukraine seems overwhelming and, quite frankly, impossible.  But perhaps it's not always about changing the societal and governmental system.  It's about boys like Valik and the potential impact that I can have in their lives while I still have the chance.  

In times like these, where I am overwhelmed by the unjustified neglect and pain in the boys' haunting eyes, I sometimes catch a reflection of Christ Jesus.  For He, too, knew sorrow and pain in this world, only to die for the sins of the world.  I am reminded that the identity of Romaniv is hidden in Christ's heart - and I am renewed with hope in His redeeming love.


Isaiah 53:2-6


...He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
Like one from whom men hide their faces,
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.


Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows,
yet we considered him stricken by God,
smitten by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed. 

Romaniv Goes to the Zoo

Last Thursday we took ten of our Romaniv boys to the Zoo in Kiev. Here are some highlights!

It was amazing to see our boys out in the community. Our Lord blessed us with a beautiful day and a spectacular experience!

Return to Romaniv

There is a saying that states "Nothing that's worth having comes easy". I have been ruminating on these words for the past several weeks during my days in Ukraine - but never have they resonated within my heart more than last week when I returned to Romaniv. Friday, as I walked up to the Romaniv orphanage for the first time in months, I felt the tangible weight of these words. Nothing that's worth having comes easy.

It was a simple day at Romaniv. Just the same as when I left it several months ago. The same long drive through the Ukrainian countryside. The same neglected buildings longing for repair. The same smells. The same crooked smiles. But as I greeted the boys for the first time I noticed something different inside of myself. The more I greeted, the more I could not ignore the growing feeling of purpose and intention in my heart.

After greeting the older boys I helped lead a small group for the boys in the isolation house, where the more severely disabled boys stay. It has been my goal to help MTU integrate more functional skills into the lessons that they give to the boys - keeping things as basic as possible. As we maneuvered through the lesson, however, I began to notice that our message was not connecting. It was as if we were trying to plant seeds of knowledge into the sea - where they were quickly swept away by the waves of neglect and deterioration. It was clear that we were planting the seeds in the wrong place. After the lesson, we took a bucket of water and soap and began washing the hands of the boys to prepare them for lunch. It was evident that it had been days since they had washed their hands, an activity that they rarely get the chance to do. As they washed and lathered, the boys began to come alive. Suddenly there was a shift in the room. Finally there was a connection.

Since that day I have been in the process of redesigning my thoughts on Romaniv. How can we recreate that connection? How can we capture that unmistakable glimmer of clarity and use it to teach the boys in a functional way? Is it possible? And if so, how can we make it possible in such a broken environment? How can we take these seeds and plant them in a way that produces fruit? This is my task and my mission. It won't be easy and progress may be slow. But in the end, nothing worth much comes easy - and the price of making a difference in the lives of the boys of Romaniv is certainly worth having.

Back in the Motherland

Having spent my summer on a feverish pace of program building, business development, learning Russian, and training for a half-marathon, the day for me to return to the Motherland has finally come.  I'm finally back in Ukraine!

I left for Ukraine on Monday, September 19th with purpose and fearless determination in my heart. My trip, however, was not without its troubles and frustrations.  Due to both weather and electrical problems, my flights to Detroit and Amsterdam were late, making me nearly late for my flight to Kiev.  After a sprint through the airport terminal and with only a few minutes to spare, I made it to my final flight.  My luggage, however, was a different story.  Thankfully, my friend Yuliya from Mission to Ukraine who was there to pick me up helped me fill out the necessary paperwork.  Finally, after two days of waiting, my bags arrived on the doorstep of MTU.

Since landing in Kiev I have been swept up into a whirlwind of work, meetings, and reunions with friends.  At MTU, we have spent the past three days in meetings, furiously working through the details of what is to come.  We have completely restructured the disability services, which has created copious room for questions and confusion.  We are also battling to achieve a balance between 1. expanding MTU's programming capacity in order to serve more children with disabilities and 2. maintain the quality of services that we offer.  It is a difficult balance to maintain.  These are the moments that will be the most difficult; however, the staff at MTU are the most agreeable, receptive, and amenable workers that I have ever seen.  The Lord has knit together a perfect tapestry of people for the task of serving Ukraine's children with disabilities.  I am confident that the barriers and trials ahead will be removed and The Lord will be triumphant!

Next week we will be evaluating the parents and the children with disabilities.  For the parents, we are using a questionnaire put together by the World Health Organization that will measure their quality of life.  We will also be implementing a clinical evaluation for an estimated 160 children.  We have a lot to accomplish!

Prayer Requests for Next Week:

1.  The parents (mostly mothers) of children with disabilities are often very skeptical and resistant to changes in MTU's program.  They are also very suspicious of evaluations.  Pray that these mothers will be accepting of all evaluative and programming changes that will be implemented in the coming weeks.

2.  It will be a daunting task to evaluate 160 children and place them in the appropriate service so quickly.  Pray that the process of evaluations will go smoothly and that we will have the strength to complete the task.

3.  Pray that the staff of MTU's disability program will be open and willing to make changes in their services.  Also, pray that I will have the wisdom and discernment to make the most appropriate and fruitful choices for MTU.

до свидания, мои друзья!

Goodbye, my friends!

Treasures

In the midst of working hard on curriculum planning for the kids in Ukraine, marketing my services to other organizations, and failing miserably at learning how to speak Russian, I am constantly finding myself overwhelmed with the fast-paced, greed-driven, complicated world that I live in. Even though our great country was founded in the name of Liberty and is rooted in the principle of Freedom, most Americans spend their days as slaves to one master: Success. As I step back and reflect on our society's never-ending scramble for more money, more possessions, and more power, I can't help but think about those 80 boys living in rural Ukraine whose prize possessions are the shirts on their backs.

As I spent more time with the boys at Romaniv, something started to stand out. I noticed that many of the boys were carrying around trinkets everywhere they went. No matter what the boys were doing, they didn't leave the room without their "treasure". To anyone else, these objects were trash: an old dirty sock stuffed with dirt and grass, a button ripped from a sweater, or a broken shoelace. When I inquired about the trinkets I was told that some of boys brought these objects with them from their homes - and were their only reminders of life before Romaniv. After one of our lessons, I stopped one of the boys who was carrying his trinket, safely tucked beneath his deformed arm. I held out my hand and gestured toward it, asking if I could see it. He held it up for me to see - the old sock stuffed with dirt. Dirty, rank, and unsavory to say the least, it was clear the sock had seen better days. But as I smiled at him, he beamed back at me with pride -- It was his.

In many ways, these boys are just like their trinkets. To the world they are Dirty. Broken. Undesirable. Garbage. Unworthy of the world's time and resources. But to me, they are treasures.

As I think about my life here in America, I find myself holding on to these treasures and carrying them with me throughout the day. It's not always easy to escape from the dizzying pace of our society. But in the end, it's about finding the simple things - the little things in life that get you through the day. The support of someone close to you. Or letting your guard down, if only for a moment. Or going out of your way to do something meaningful for another. Whatever your treasure may be - hold on to it and remind yourself to enjoy the simple things.

Prayer for Mission to Ukraine

Exciting things are happening in Ukraine this summer. Several different summer camps are being offered for Zhitomir's youth with disabilities and their families. A week-long day camp for the boys of Romaniv is also being offered in July. In anticipation of these exciting events, Mission to Ukraine has sent out a prayer list for each event. I hope you will join me in praying for them throughout the summer.

SUMMER CAMPS FOR ZHITOMIR YOUTH WITH DISABILITIES:

Praise God for this summers' overnight camp for youth with disabilities. Thank God for the Ukrainian team and the US volunteers.

Pray that the Lord will orchestrate all the administrative and spiritual work of all teams and bless all workers and volunteers with good health and high energy.

Pray for the families receiving service to see Jesus behind the good works and material blessings.

Pray for the seeds of faith sown at camps to grow and thrive in the hearts of our children and youth and their parents. May all camp participants return home with hope in Christ.

SUMMER DAY CAMPS FOR BOYS WITH DISABILITIES AT ROMANIV ORPHANAGE:

Praise God for the Romaniv Orphanage day camp. Pray for every volunteer to be filled with the love and power of God.

Pray for Angela, Romaniv Orphanage physical therapy nurse, to receive Jesus into her heart and to have wisdom and success in accomplishing her program of development for the boys.

Pray for the Lord to open the hearts and minds of both the boys and the staff to understand and accept the spiritual truths taught at the lessons.

Pray for favorable weather and wise organization of the program and space as the day camp takes place amid construction on the orphanage grounds.

Pray for the Romaniv Orphanage staff. They work hard and grow weary and harden their hearts. Pray for the Lord to renew them and melt their hearts with His love and hope.

Pray for our God to bless the Romaniv Orphanage administration with the necessary funds for their construction work.

Taking Chances

The past four years of my life have been unbelievably adventuresome. Filled to the brim with uncharted territory, I have spent these past years as a wanderer within my own life. Moving into new apartments....moving to a new cities....moving to new states and even new countries and cultures. Now, as I sit comfortably under my parents' roof, where I currently call home, I wonder about the chances that I took to get to this place and the serendipity that connects them all.

I took my first chance when I moved to St. Louis for graduate school. Without fully knowing what Occupational Therapy was or where St. Louis is on a map (don't worry - I eventually figured it out), I packed my belongings and moved south to a city I barely knew. Wrapped in anticipation and opportunity, and laced with a bit of heartbreak - I have come to realize that I was born in that city. It was in that city where my dream of finding hope for the hopeless was conceived and where the roots of my love for orphaned children with disabilities began to grow. They say that the St. Louis Arch represents The Gateway to the West....but to me it means so much more. It's the gateway that led to all of the experiences that helped to shape who I am and what I stand for.

I've been thinking a lot lately about taking chances. Now that my time in St. Louis has come and gone, I realize that it was just one of the many chances that I will have to take. I will have many more moves to make and risks to put on the line. What takes me past the fear of the unknown, however, is the truth found in the grace of Christ. It is His name that I will cling to each and every time I take a chance.

It seems there is a bit of risk in everything these days. Risk in your professional choices. Risk in your personal choices. Risk in letting yourself be vulnerable with another. But at the end of the day, taking chances is really just about overcoming fear of the unknown and stepping forward in blind faith. Sometimes it's frightening and most of the time it's hard....but every time you take a big risk in your life I think you'll find that, no matter how it ends up, you're always glad you took it.

Happy Birthday, Romaniv!

Have you ever had a moment where you find that you are exactly where you are supposed to be? That moment where you stop long enough to realize that your heart is singing? I had several of those moments during my first trip to Ukraine. But one in particular will always stay with me.

You see.....In certain areas of the world, the detrimental societal barriers against children with intellectual and developmental disabilities are present from the very day they are born. In some instances, children with disabilities are not deemed worthy of an official record or identification from the government. Though Ukraine has a more advanced system, the children with disabilities that are abandoned to orphanages are often left with little more information than their names and birth dates. For many of the boys at Romaniv, the concept of a birthday, let alone celebrating one, is strange and unknown. But during my stay in Ukraine, that all changed.

I had the privilege of participating in an extraordinary celebration for all of the boys' birthdays at Romaniv. It was quite an undertaking for MTU's disability team. They had been planning this visit for weeks - buying and preparing gifts, organizing games, creating costumes, and gathering supplies. But the day finally came. There was excitement and energy in the air as we hustled around the dining area to put up the decorations and set out the chairs for the boys. When everything was ready, two volunteers from a local church went to get the boys. Smiling and laughing as they entered, the room became ablaze with beautiful chaos. They were everywhere - marveling at the decorations and eager to snatch up the games. As the leaders gained control over the crowd of enraptured boys, the party began.

During the next hour I watched as the boys participated in the games and even engaged in a short lesson on the seasons of the year. After the lessons we brought out the cakes - six beautiful cakes lit with candles. Passing out the plates I began to notice that some of the boys didn't know how to use the plastic forks that we provided them with and resorted to using their hands. I have never seen anyone eat cake so quickly - how wonderful that sugary cake must have tasted on those sweet lips!

After cake, the MTU team passed out donated Target bags to each boy. As they tore into the bags they found winter hats and gloves. They stared in wonder at the gifts - the fact that the hats and gloves were so practical and utilitarian made no difference. They were treasures - one of the few gifts in life they would ever receive.

Thinking back on those moments, I can't help but be overwhelmingly honored to be a part of that day. I got to witness something that most of these boys had never experienced: someone celebrating their life. The proud and dignified smile knowing that the gifts were theirs to keep - the light in their eyes as the candles were blown out - the glow in their face when tasting cake for the first time.....my heart sings when I think back on those moments.

Update

The other day I received an email from Oksana, my dear friend in Ukraine who is the director of disability services at Mission to Ukraine. She is seeking my help for their two-week summer camp for their kiddos with disabilities in July. I am hoping that I am able to go, but am waiting for approval from the Mission to Ukraine board. Every year my employer, Dave Helmer, sends a team of Americans to Ukraine in order to help with the camps. It is my hope that I can train his team in working with children with disabilities prior to the camp, then help with the programming of the camp sessions as well. I am also hoping that I can meet with the disability team to discuss the program that I hope to launch in September.

Oksana also shared some heartbreaking news in her email. She mentioned that they have discovered that some of the boys at Romaniv are being aggressive and abusive. They do not have all the details, but it seems that the older boys often prey upon the younger, more vulnerable boys. It's a constant reminder of how desperate and damaged these boys are. I am thinking of putting together a lesson about appropriate social boundaries to teach to the boys. Hopefully this will address the issue and help to put an end to the problem. Please pray for these boys and for the MTU team.

Lasciamo

Lasciamo.

Roughly translated in Italian it means "let it go". I love that word - so much so that I use it every day for my personal creed. It's my reminder that regardless of how much something means to me, I have to let go, holding it with an open hand. Over the past few months this word has become my safety net....my security.

You see, the path that I am traveling down is so precious to me. The opportunity to actualize my heart's deepest desire - to bring hope to the lost children of world - is unspeakably priceless to me. But this journey has not come without its trials and valleys. I have had to fight my way through the fires, the floods, and the roadblocks. The task of putting a vision into concrete, tangible action is not as easy as it seemed in the beginning.

So each day I have to remind myself "Lasciamo." Let it go. Let go of the small, insignificant details and focus on the important things. Take each day as it comes. Do not be in a hurry to see results. Hold this opportunity with an open hand. Fight through the battles but do not lose heart.

Beautiful Transformation of the Romaniv Orphanage

This is a video produced by Mission to Ukraine highlighting their work with the boys of Romaniv orphanage. If you watch closely, you'll see 'yours truly' in action!

More to come....

Suffering

"Even in the deepest suffering, there is significance. There is a meaningful process of positive possibilities. We have to recover the language of humanity...we cannot understand suffering without it. There's this struggle in life in every class of people...it's what we do with it that matters." -Dr. William B. Hurlbu

There is a man named Pastor Peter who helps out with Mission to Ukraine from time to time. He is an eccentric man who is incredibly outgoing and unreserved....the room always lights up when Pastor Peter arrives. He only speaks Russian and Ukrainian, so we spoke primarily through interpreters and gestures. One day he asked if I wanted to come to his church in "the village". I was curious to see what church was like in the rural areas of Ukraine, so of course I said yes. He made the arrangements with Ira and before I knew it I was being picked up in his van, zooming down a snowy country road with the city in our rearview mirror. Thank goodness Tanya was with me as a translator because I would not have known what was happening.

As Tanya and I sat in our seat waiting for church to begin, Paster Peter came up and asked (in Russian) what I was going to preach about today. My heart sank. As amazing as I am at speaking (ha!), I had nothing prepared. I gratefully declined his invitation to preach, but consented to introducing myself and saying a few words about my work with people with disabilities. So with Tanya's help, I spoke to a room full of Ukrainian men and women about who I am, where I come from, and why I am dedicated to changing the lives of people with disabilities. I spoke about my education, about Ben, and about my work with Mission to Ukraine. I always smile because it is in those moments where I knew that Ben's story was changing lives as well.

After sitting through a long, incomprehensible sermon in Russian, I suddenly found myself surrounded by a group of old Ukrainian babushkas (Russian word for 'grandmother'). One after another they came up to tell me their story. After several engulfing, grandmotherly hugs, one lady (who was waiting patiently in the background) came up to me with tears in her eyes. She told me of her severely disabled grandson who is trapped at home due to his condition. At that moment my heart resonated with her tears...her pain was so real. She did not speak of her grandson as a burden, but as a victim of society's shortcomings. When she finished telling me of her grandson she asked me to bless her. I was taken aback. Who was I to bless her? As I layed my hands on her and prayed aloud, it started to hit me....I, Emily Wallace from Greenwood, Indiana, was carrying this Ukrainian babushka before the cross. I had no commonality with this woman that I was praying for, but we were connected in every way through our humanity. Once I was finished praying, she took my face and kissed each cheek.

Later that day we boarded Pastor Peter's van. In my mind I prepared for the long journey home, thinking about what I would do to relax once I was back in Zhytomyr. But as we drove down the road Tanya informed me that we were going to make a house visit to a woman with a disability whom Pastor Peter's church is supporting. Right away I mentally packed away my craving for rest. I asked Tanya to find out about the woman and what sort of disability she had. Pastor Peter's only reply was, "just wait until you meet her".

A few minutes later Pastor Peter turned off of the main road onto a country path, which was covered in several feet of snow. If it weren't for the van, we would never have made it through the snow-covered road. There was nothing around us but what appeared to be old abandoned shacks. Suddenly, I was amazed to find that we were stopping in front of one of them. Could it be that this woman lives in one of these woodsheds? Pastor Peter put the van in park, turned to me and said, "follow me". As I tracked through the snow toward the shed that Pastor Peter had disappeared into, I began to realize that no amount of education could have prepared me for what I was about to experience.

The building that I entered was nothing more than a poorly constructed woodshed. There were no floors, only dirt, and the roof looked like it was barely holding on. The room was empty except for a small fire pit and a broken old couch with a single blanket. As I looked around I noticed that the holes in the walls did nothing to keep the 10 degree weather and bitter winter wind from blowing the entire structure down. Pastor Peter was listening to a woman who was feverishly speaking at him. I didn't have to understand Russian in order to know that she was psychotic and having a manic episode. Tanya leaned over and explained that she was having delusions about a doctor that she found in the paper. Having had experience with people suffering from mental illness, I was able to instruct Pastor Peter how to speak to her - that her reality is not ours. Immediately he took the paper from her and put it in the fire. He pled with her to come to church so they could minister to her and give her food. He also said that he would be coming back with some men from the church to patch up some of the holes in the wall. Before leaving, Pastor Peter, Tanya, and I laid hands on her and prayed.

Since that day I have thought a lot about suffering. I had never experienced someone with more suffering than that woman in the shed that day. Her life was in shambles. Her world was empty and she had nothing - not even her sanity. But it was through that suffering that I could identify with her. No matter how we suffer, no matter who we are or where we come from....we can all converse through suffering. It's what makes us human. It breaks down the barriers and facades that we put up to try and make everyone think we are ok. But we're not. We all suffer. What's beautiful is that we all have the chance to remember it, and learn from it. We all have the chance to use it to touch someone else through their struggle. It is those moments, when something touches you and connects you to another human being, that we experience what we're really made of.