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.