Nothing But Miracles

"And as to me, I know of nothing else but miracles.” 

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass


Four months ago, six Romaniv boys were grouped together to participate in what would be the first Functional Skills Training in the history of the orphanage.  Having been trapped in a world of idleness and neglect, we began teaching the boys of Romaniv with the hope of prying open the cages of their mind.  Breaking new ground on something so simple, yet so unfamiliar to the boys, we integrated methods that helped teach them basic developmental and functional skills.  Something as effortless as "washing hands" soon became a weekly crusade.

At first, the boys were overwhelmed, disorganized, and undisciplined.  Their reactions to each activity were primitive and unrefined - showing the clear evidence of years spent sitting in darkness.  Week by week, Natasha of MTU and the nurse of the orphanage worked together to illuminate the locked rooms of their lives.  With repetition and hands-on learning, the boys slowly began to learn.  Though improvement was slow and basic, each lesson was a step.  A step toward independence. A step toward empowerment. A step toward personal dignity.  

After two months of absence from the boys, I finally returned to Romaniv last Friday to check on the lessons and to examine the effectiveness of the program.  I smiled to myself as the boys filed into the room, one by one taking their seats.  I was overjoyed to see them again.  I watched intently as Natasha began the lesson with a prayer and a song.  But as the lesson progressed I found that something was different.  Something was out of place.  Something was present that was not present before.

It was Sergei's words!  The blonde boy who once could only babble with incomprehensible noises was now speaking meaningful Ukrainian words!  "You see?", Natasha said proudly with tears in her eyes, "He speaks!".

Romaniv Orphanage is a funny thing.  One second this place crushes you to pieces - and the next it creates a moment so beautiful you want to cry.  And sometimes you do cry because it's the only way to react to the miracles that you are seeing before your very eyes.

Then the light will break forth like the dawn,

and your healing will quickly appear;

then your righteousness will go before you,

and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.

Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;

you will cry for help, and he will say:

Here I Am.

Isaiah 58:8-9

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!