I'm not the journaling type...and I've never kept a diary (except for a brief attempt as a 10-year-old girl who only wrote about boys and cooties). Unfortunately, I failed to write down my experiences during my time in Italy and Ukraine, which both happen to be very significant milestones that shaped where I am now. So, I will attempt to backtrack here, starting with some memories from my trip to Ukraine.
Getting ready for my trip to Ukraine was a rush of emotions. While I was experiencing true excitement for the chance to live out my dream, deep down I was frightened. I was desperately trying to muster up every ounce of strength from within.....trying to convince myself that I was strong and confident enough to overcome such a daunting task. I had never been to Ukraine and I certainly didn't know what to expect. As I boarded my plane in Indy for the almost-24-hour trip, I felt so small and trivial. Knowing that the people that were waiting for me in Ukraine had such great needs I kept thinking "Who am I, to go?"...."I have no experience - how am I ever going to be able to help?".
After landing and going through customs (with a wink from the passport officer), I was able to meet up with Ira, my host. Suddenly, I found myself in a van going 70 mph down a damaged, icy, two-lane road which happened to be the only highway in Ukraine. After 26 hours of traveling, we arrived in the city of Zhytomyr and I was finally able to rest. The next morning I awoke to a freezing cold morning and snowy skies. This was to be my reality for the next 3 weeks.
After walking for 30 minutes through the bustling, icy streets of Zhytomyr, Ira and I arrived at the MTU headquarters. After devotions and prayer with the staff, I boarded a bus with four other MTU staff and headed out for the hour-long journey to Romaniv, an orphanage for boys with severe disabilities. As we headed further into the wilderness, I felt myself stepping back into 19th century Russia. The large soviet-style apartment complexes turned into old farmhouses that looked more like barns, the paved roads (which actually were more like ice-skating rinks) turned into narrow dirt paths, and the cars turned into horse-drawn sleighs. It was as if I was living in a blurry dream. Before I knew it, we arrived at a complex of small buildings nestled in the countryside of Ukraine. Looking back, I had no comprehension of the impact that place would have on me.
As I reflect on that initial visit to Romaniv, all I can think of is the burning in my heart for the boys. I had heard about them from the staff and was warned about the sounds and smells that I would experience. But no words could have prepared me for that moment. Walking through the doors we were met with smiling, shouting, waving boys running at us from all directions just for the chance to shake our hands. While noticing the stench of urine and feces and the sounds of moaning and yelling in the background, I took no heed. I didn't care. I wanted to hug every single one of them, no matter how dirty or how rank. I wanted to shower them with every ounce of love in my heart.
I knew at that moment that I was meant for them.
photo courtesy of Barry Rodriguez
www.worldnextdoor.org
1 comment:
My beloved Emmy Bells - As I read your words, I am overcome with emotions...a sadness for the boys that is paralyzing...a joy and pride for you that is overwhelming. During your journey, you have my heart and prayers with you...may God reveal more of Himself to you, and thus reveal more of Himself through you. Mucho love...Muncle
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