Today we enter the season of Advent, the season of expectation. We join with people all over the world to wait expectantly for the celebration of the birth of the Christ. For our family, our team, our boys, it is a season of great joy. (if you’ve been around for a while you know we are always down for a celebration 😉) But we also recognize that we are in between advents. Christ has come, and he will come again. In the meantime we see glimpses of his Kingdom breaking through- but we also still see so much pain and suffering all around us. “The now and the not yet” of God’s Kingdom. We celebrate with our boys on the Homestead- cozy, warm, and surrounded by love. All the while knowing that an hour away our friends at the institution are enduring great abuse and neglect, living lives of isolation and pain.
The now and the not yet.
So we cry out for God to come and make all things right. And we hope. We hope for the day when all of our boys will be free. We long for that day with all of our hearts. And we hope with an active hope- a hope that puts one foot in front of the other working hard every day to make that future a reality for our friends.
Jesus, our living hope is alive and well with us on the Homestead, with our boys at Romaniv, and with you wherever you may be today.
We invite you to meet our dear friend, Misha. He is an inspiration to us to never give up hope. To keep fighting the good fight. To keep saying YES to the next thing.
I have been living in Ukraine for over a year now! The year mark was an opportunity to reflect more intentionally on my time here thus far.
First, I am so grateful that I get to be here. I’m so grateful that God said yes to the desire to live here that had been growing in me for years. After my first time in Ukraine, I just knew I wanted to return. Sometime around 3 years ago, that grew into a desire to live here for a season and be a part of the Wide Awake mission and community in a deeper way. But to actually get to live here?? Despite the distance, and the war, and all the other reasons this dream felt a little out there. It hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, and when I’m in the normal stuff of daily life, I can forget how magical it is that this dream became a reality. But it actually is pretty magical, and I’m so glad that I get to live this life and do this work.
So if it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, what has been hard? If I can sum it up in one sentence: The hard part is the ways in which living here exposes all the faults and weaknesses that I had before I came. I read a missionary memoir (by Helen Roseveare) where she said that moving overseas to do mission work doesn’t magically make you a different, better person. You bring everything about who you already were to the foreign place, and I feel that 😅 The pressures of my life before were different, so I could avoid some of these weaknesses well enough to forget about them. But God works all things together for the good of those who love him, so it seems He is using aspects of life here to grow me in areas I’d been avoiding (or just oblivious to).
One area that seems to be a recurring theme in my life here is help… or self-sufficiency… so I suppose, pride. I came here to meet a need, to contribute to life on the Homestead, to be another willing set of hands. But there is a difference between a good desire to help and a prideful desire to only help while needing nothing from others. Giving help often feels good; it puts you in a position of power (whether you consciously acknowledge it in the moment or not). Being a helper is an identity our achievement-oriented culture celebrates. Needing help displays weakness; it puts you in a position of humility and is the opposite of being independent.
As it turns out, as much as I SAY that I desire community and interdependence, I actually really cling to being independent. I want to be in a position to give help, but needing help feels vulnerable. What if people think less of me? What if I don’t actually get the help I need? What if me being too needy leads people to reject me? Surely, I’ll be easier to love if I make no demands on anyone.
I know it sounds ridiculous when I put it that way, but I usually don’t have to hear that quiet voice deep inside. Life is loud.
And then I moved to Ukraine, where I am constantly finding myself in situations where I feel incompetent. I need help with things all the time that I could do independently in America. And whenever I think “Cool God, thanks for all the growth opportunities about accepting help, but I think I have finally learned this lesson now” something new happens to make me realize that I have most definitely NOT learned this lesson yet. 😂
Part of my role here is to be a house parent, to care for Yarik and Vova. And then I break my elbow and am in a plaster cast. Or impale my foot on a rusty nail and can barely walk. Or get a stomach flu over the weekend. I have had the most ridiculous, random injuries in my life here. And I’ve gotten sick what feels like an absurd number of times. Every time this happens and someone else has to carry something that I see as my responsibility or something I “should” be able to do, I once again get a bad attitude (i.e. guilt, resentment, frustration). Then I realize that I have not accepted being a frail mortal and that I still do not want to need help.
But we all give and receive help. That is actually by design, not because of a fault in the design.
And if we build an identity on being a helper, on always being self-sufficient and in a position to help others, there is a danger that we can look down with contempt on those who need help. Not intentionally. But if we revile needing help, how do we view others who need it?
So there is some slow, deep work happening in me in this area. It’s still in progress, although I’m hoping God chooses to work on this in my life without any more crazy injuries.
It’s been 4 months since I’ve shared this space with you. Can you believe that? It’s gone by fast, but it also feels like a century since I shared my heart with you.
When we first started this journey of “YES” that led us across the world to our life here in Ukraine it was very much the story and journey of our family. I shared the happenings on our blog, mainly just because blogging was “the thing” to do and I thought it could be kind of fun to try my hand at a public journal of such. I wanted a way to remember the process and also a way to fill in family and close friends in one bang. Killing two birds and all that jazz. The process, or journey, we started out on was an adoption journey. It was a personal, intimate journey for our family and sharing my heart and thoughts along the way was the only way I knew how to write. Over the years one thing led to another, which led to another, which led to us starting a non-profit, moving our family of 6 around the world, adopting Vlad, buying the Homestead property, taking guardianship of our boys, building the duplex…then war and refugee life and homecoming and horses and house parents and all.the.things. Over the past 12 years, this whole thing has become much more than our family’s personal journey and much more than my online journal of sorts. The writings here represent Wide Awake and Dim Hidnosti and there is so much more to be shared than my feelings about it all. 😆
And yet, I know that part of what has drawn people (and maybe you!) to this work has been hearing the personal perspective behind all the things happening around here. And because this work is not just my day job but also my family, my life, and the thing I believe I was made to do, it’s really quite impossible for me to tease out the personal from the organizational- even if I wanted to. I’m just, in general, a “heart-on-my-sleeve” type of person, so writing without getting too personal is just not something I’m able to do. That’s all fine and dandy when I’m feeling all fine and dandy, but it all kind of falls apart when I fall apart.
Over the years we have seen and experienced so much beauty, and we have also experienced a great deal of pain. There were the early years that were so exciting, but also filled with uncertainty and worry (especially about our kids. Remember how worried I was that they would never learn Ukrainian???). There was the huge transition of bringing the boys out and then the disappointment of realizing that they couldn’t all live with us forever like we thought. (By the way, what were we actually thinking, imagining that would work??? My word, we have learned a lot.) Then there was/is the war. The day we had to leave our home and take the boys as refugees in Germany was the single most painful day of my life. All of that I freely and honestly shared with you. I never wanted you to think this journey was all rainbows and unicorns, so I tried to be very honest about sharing the amazing and the heartbreaking. But over the past couple of years, maybe since the war started that honest, personal, and free channel of communication from me to you has slowly become harder and harder for me to access.
I can’t completely blame my “communication barrier”, of sorts, on the war, but I also can’t deny the part war has played in changing all of us to our cores. That time living away with all the boys in a different country was unbelievably challenging and traumatizing. I really hate to use that “T Word” because I’m aware it’s so overused and abused, but I feel like it’s a true way to describe that time. We left our home not knowing if we would ever be able to return. We then watched helplessly as our dear boys who had worked so incredibly hard, along with us, to come so far and heal so deeply and grow so much, slowly and then rapidly lose their skills and decline to such states that it became impossible to continue like we were in Germany. I don’t know if I’ve ever before or since felt such helplessness as I did in that time. I remember crying to Jed “I just don’t want this to be my life!” Rough times, Folks, rough times.
Another barrier to my sharing has just been the fact that I was, honestly, a bit burned out with sharing the story. Gasp! Truth bomb. Hehe. I mean, I’ve been sharing this work and this journey for 12 years now and I just felt tired. I felt uninspired. I felt like, although the work obviously, is just as important to me as the day it was birthed 12 years ago, I just didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I wanted to live it and savor it and love it as much as I do, without trying to figure out creative ways to describe it. I guess it was just a case of good ol’ fashioned burnout. And I’m so thankful to Christiana for lifting that responsibility from me during our sabbatical so I could just rest. What a gift!
And not to be a Debbie Downer, but there is one more barrier to communication between you and me. That one includes my kiddos and dignity and the whole jumbly casserole that comes out of life and ministry and work and family all being a mostly combined entity. To me, that jumbly casserole is the best ever and I wouldn’t trade that life for the world. But it does make communication a bit hard to splice out.
When we moved to Ukraine our kids were young and it seemed like they were little extensions of my body. Their joys and pains were easy to see and understand, and in those early days of life in Ukraine, I was feeling a lot of those same joys and pains so it was natural to share them with you. Our family unit was like a little island here in Ukraine and we felt and experienced all the things together. Now most of my children are teenagers and sharing their joys and pains online with people who don’t even know them doesn’t feel right or even related to what you come here to read. So there is the need to separate some of the Johnson family sharing from the greater Homestead family sharing.
But, there is a but. You know that our family is an adoptive family (several times over), and adoption has always been a big part of our heart. We heavily and successfully advocated for the adoption of foster children and many children from Ukraine before we moved here and then for several of our boys from Romaniv. I believe that adoption is God’s heart and a necessary act of love in this broken world. Children were made for families. Adoption is important and necessary, and also, adoption is incredibly painful and difficult. That is just the reality. Anytime a child is removed from their biological family there is pain, no matter the age of the child. Add in a history of substance abuse and the pain grows.
We moved to Ukraine to bring people with disabilities into family and to create a model of family and care that can be replicated by others around the country. There are many reasons why institutions like Romaniv exist, but one big reason is because of the lack of social safety net for families who have a child with a disability. There is a huge lack of qualified therapists and mental health specialists. The schools are not prepared for children with special needs and most schools have zero idea of how to actually work with children who can’t learn in the way that is expected and have zero plan for how to successfully educate those children. We see the final outcome of the lack of social safety net in our adult men who have come from the institution into our Wide Awake family, and we have experienced the effects of the lack of social safety net in our own family with one of our adopted children.
To parent a child with special needs in Ukraine is to fight the good fight on your own. There is no team brainstorming. There is no person telling you what they recommend you do. There are no provisions made. There is no support. All of these things you have to find on your own or create on your own. We have been doing this for our child for the past almost 11 years, and it has taken all that I have to give. I can’t tell you how isolating and painful it is to try everything and give everything and feel that at the end of the day, your family is alone in this fight for your child and there is no safety net if you should fail or make a wrong choice or miss a thing, or if you should have known better but just didn’t because you have never seen or known of another child like yours. To parent a child with special needs in Ukraine is to go at it completely alone and pray that at the end of the day, it will be enough.
I haven’t shared as much with you recently because I have been elbows deep in my own journey of parenting a child who desperately needs more than we can give. Our child needs what can only be found outside of Ukraine, but we know that God has us in Ukraine for that very population. It hasn’t really hit me until just while I’ve been writing this that this must be how all the mamas of our friends with disabilities must have felt over the years. We need for our children what can’t be found in our country. And we wonder how things would be different if we had the resources that others have. We do our best but feel at the end of each day that we are failing and pray that God will cover it all. Hope can be hard to find at times. We can only trust that God loves our children more than we do and that He will give us the wisdom we need when we need it.
So, wow, maybe this got a bit rambly (is that a word?) I just wanted you to know where I’ve been; where my head and heart have been. Praise God the work here continues, more beautiful than ever. Our team and our boys are thriving, even during these dark times in our country. Because of the amazing and steady work of our team I’m able to take more of a backseat from the day-to-day work of Wide Awake/Dime Hidnosti to focus on our child. I’m incredibly thankful for that.
I’m back, feeling a bit more refreshed and ready to share with you again. With Jed and Christiana’s help, we’ll continue to keep you in the loop on all the things happening around here. There is never a dull moment around here and we are honored to walk this never-dull journey with you.
Well, I’ll start out by apologizing for the radio silence. You haven’t heard from us recently, but for good reason, because we’ve just been so busy doing everything! A couple weeks ago dear friends from the US arrived to spend time with us and the team and last week our team put on a camp at Romaniv for our boys there. It was, as the title implied, my most favorite camp EVER. What can I say? It was perfection. The week was peaceful, deeply joyful, memorable, and just good. So so good.
It had been several years since we’d put on a day camp at the institution. I might be wrong, but I feel like the last time was in 2017…the summer before we took any of our boys out. That was a long time ago!! I’m thankful that God turned our focus back to our boys there because this camp was really needed- by them, and by us. Any time we can spend extended periods of time with our friends at Romaniv is good for them and for us. We learn more about the boys and they grow in their trust of us. Our love for them enlarges and deepens, and they have a whole week filled with love, hours of complete safety, one-on-one attention, and all the doting we can muster. It’s a win-win on many levels.
The theme of the camp was “The Five Senses” and our interns set up stations around the institution where our boys could go and experience the different senses. Each boy had his own volunteer and the goal was not that each boy would visit each station every day, but that the volunteer would pay attention to what the boy was interested in and be led by his interests. If a boy just wanted to stay all day at the music station and relax there, maybe even fall asleep, so be it! It was a very loose program where the individuality of each boy could be noticed and celebrated. I loved and appreciated that. We also had two volunteers who did a program each day for the nannies. They had tons of fun with them and I hope the nannies really felt special and seen.
Each day we had 25-28 people heading out to camp to bring our boys joy. Several new volunteers joined us and experienced life at Romaniv for the first time. They all did great! The vast majority of our volunteers were teens and it was just an absolute joy to see them delight in the boys. They could have been doing anything with their free summer days, but they chose to give a week to our precious friends and that was a real encouragement and injection of hope into our team. My mama heart was bursting as I watched our son Ezra lead the camp with the other interns, and our daughter, Havalah volunteer each day. New volunteers were partnered with Hava so they could learn the ropes of Romaniv and how to communicate with the boys. I so enjoyed watching her be an awesome example of love that others could follow. Our little Evie spent the week with us at Romaniv too and it was her first time to be there since she was a baby. She’d been begging us to go “to the boys” for at least a year, but I wasn’t sure she was ready. She’s super comfortable with our boys here and our friends with disabilities from the city, but our boys are her family. She’s never known life without them! All their noises, their unique movements, and quirks are normal to her. Romaniv is muuuuuuuuch different. But, we decided to give it a go. When we first arrived she was scared and started crying, but after a few minutes of reminding her that they were just like our boys at home and that she just needed to get to know them, all was great and she loved it. The boys were fascinated to see a little girl and she became quite a popular figure around camp. I don’t think she minded that one bit. 😉
On each day of camp, a few of the boys with their volunteers would go in the van to town for ice cream and a walk in the park. The boys behave so differently when they are out in town! It’s really fun to see who is curious, who is quiet, who gets excited…and we are very thankful to the Director of the institution for allowing us such freedom with the boys. He is a fairly new director, but we have known him for many years. He is supportive of our work and really gives us free rein to try new things. We had many years when that was not the case at Romaniv, so we will never take his trust for granted. What a gift!
The last day of camp was extra, extra special because we brought two of our horses! Now talk about a new sensory experience; that was the ultimate. Dajana and I loaded them up bright and early and staked out a place for them in a field near the institution. Then the team would bring us a few boys at a time and the boys would “meet” the horses at whatever level they were at. For some boys, just leaving the territory of the institution and being in a new place was enough sensory input to last the day, while some wanted to pet the horses, and some even rode! Our horse, Mishka, was an absolute rock star. She was so patient and could not have behaved better. Melody, her 11-month-old foal, just came along for the ride, so Mishka wouldn’t be alone. But she also behaved nicely and is shaping up to follow in her superstar mom’s footsteps. That was only the second time we’d taken any of the horses in the trailer and the first time we’d taken them soooo far, but they did amazing and it was a total success! We hope to do it again before the summer ends.
All in all, we considered this camp a huge success. Thank you to all of you who prayed for our time there. It was just wonderful, for the boys and for us. They ingrained themselves a little deeper into each of our hearts. They reminded us again why we are doing this work and inspired us to keep moving forward, to not grow weary, to not grow complacent, but to keep saying yes, pushing, and fighting till each and every one of them is free.
On the last Tuesday of every month, we have an all-team meeting here on the Homestead. In those meetings, we cover a variety of topics. Sometimes we talk about new policies or protocols for our work, maybe a new development in one of the boys or something to do with their health that everyone needs to know; we celebrate accomplishments and milestones, say goodbye to team members who are leaving, or welcome new members to our tribe. Sometimes we just eat together or pray together, or discuss one of our values of dignity, love, and hope. The monthly gatherings are an important time and our boys are always right there in the middle of them. Their presence makes each team meeting a lively and loud event. 😀 We always have to agree on one team member who will be in charge of keeping Yaroslav in line as he kind of resents when all the attention in the room is not directed at him. Sasha loves to sit in the middle of the group and sing loudly- especially when it’s a quiet, more serious moment. Anton usually paces the halls and Boris bounces unbelievably high on the cushions of the couch eagerly awaiting whatever treat he sees lying on the counter for afterwards. It’s a circus, Y’all.
Anywayssss, today at our meeting Jed asked Ruslan to pray to start us off. We were outside around the fire pit and Ruslan proceeded to thank God for each and every single person around the circle- by name. It was a sweet moment and it warmed my heart to remember just how many people know and love Ruslan. He was once alone and now has a whole crowd of people who know him well and treasure him and his life. All of our boys are surrounded by that love and I really believe that they feel it. We have watched them come alive in our love over the years they’ve lived with us. God has done so much healing of their hearts, minds, and bodies. Sure, there is much more healing needed, but look how far they’ve come! I believe that they know they are loved and I’m so glad for that. Man, how I dream of that for all of our friends still stuck in Romaniv. I wonder how they would blossom and change if they were surrounded by a big ol’ family of people dedicated to their well-being and growth? I bet they would become almost unrecognizable- like our boys. I hope I get to see that in my lifetime.
While Ruslan was praying I was reminded of a question that was asked quite a long time ago that I never answered (sorry Katie!!!!). Katie asked about the boys’ spiritual lives. She wondered if they pray, if they go to church with us, and what level of spiritual understanding they have. Great question! Some aspects are difficult for me to answer, just because most of our boys are not verbal, but I can tell you what I know and what I see.
All of us house parents attend the same church in town and all of the boys attend church with us regularly. It has been quite a journey with our church body here. Whew. It has been a long journey of acceptance and growth. We have miles to go, but I feel like we’re in a fairly decent place right now. Almost all of our team members also attend the church and many of our volunteers also attend, so there are always many people present at church on Sundays who know and love our boys. The boys have learned over the years when they can “sing” and when they need to sit quietly. They mostly do really well at the whole Sunday service thing. Ruslan loves to sit in the very front row and sing his lungs out. He’s so loud! It’s amazing. Vova isn’t verbal, but he also “sings” a lot and quite loudly during the worship time. Yarik too! I love hearing their voices when everyone is singing together. I’m always struck by the miracle of having them there with us. It never ever gets old. The boys’ behavior during the preaching is hit or miss, but for the most part, they are fine. Everyone is used to them and their unique noises. The boys have grown a lot in their patience during the preaching time! Ruslan, Boris, and Yaroslav really, really seem to love going to church. For Yarik, it is definitely the highlight of his weekend and he starts to ask for it at least on Friday. He asks for it by holding his hand up to his mouth like a microphone and saying “Ah ya ya??” in a very specific tone. He loves it. Anton likes going to church because he knows he’ll get coffee afterward, Sasha doesn’t seem to care either way, and Vova is just happy to be anywhere with anyone. He is the happiest, smiliest ever. Remember when he used to bite everyone? Ha! Risperidone is a gift from God is all I have to say about that. But really, Vova does seem to enjoy the music at church quite a lot.
Every day, Monday through Friday, the boys have worship time together with the assistants at the duplex. That involves music either with a guitar or on YouTube. All our boys love music. Anton, specifically, is very sensitive to music. Sometimes a certain worship song will just hit him and you’ll see him sitting in his chair listening, with tears streaming down his face. It’s the sweetest thing. I think in those moments the Holy Spirit is just touching his heart and bringing healing. It’s beautiful.
We can’t know what the boys understand about God or what they know of him, but it does seem clear that they each have their own special relationship with him. Ruslan is the only one of our boys here who can speak in small sentences and really express his thoughts or feelings in a clear way. For sure our boys express many emotions all the time, but we have to interpret their meaning in the best way we know how. Ruslan is really the only one who can tell us sometimes what he is feeling or thinking about. Well, Yarik can do a bit of that too with gestures and minimal words, but to a lesser degree than Ruslan. With Anton, Vova, Sasha, and Boris we really have to look at body language, facial expressions, and behaviors to understand what might be happening inside their bodies and minds. But they all, except maybe Sasha, who is so much in his own world for so much of the time, seem to really respond to times of prayer, times of worship, and times of turning our attention to the things of God.
I’ve told this story before, but I think it’s relevant to share it again. When we first adopted Vlad (almost 9 years ago!) we took him to the US with us for several months to get him some medical care that he couldn’t get here. We took him to church with us and he enjoyed it, but we had no idea how much he understood about what was going on or about the things of God. He was fresh from the institution and wasn’t super verbal. He could talk in small, almost unintelligible sentences and acted like a little wild animal much of the time. Gosh, it’s amazing to think of how much he has changed!!! Anyway, the first time communion was served at church Vlad perked up because he was completely obsessed with food. Crackers? Juice? Yes, please! 😂 I didn’t want him to feel left out so I tried to explain as simply as I could what we were doing and what it meant. I told him “Vlad, we are drinking this juice and eating this cracker so we remember that Jesus died for us and that he loves us. Vlad, God loves you so much!” He quickly replied, with tears in his eyes (and Vlad NEVER cries), “I know. I know God loves me.”
I was blown away in that moment. How in the world did that child who had been abandoned at birth, then lived for 15 years in hell on earth; that child who had known neglect and abuse that most of us could never even fathom- how did he know that God loved him? How? It became clear to me that we have no idea how God reveals himself to our boys and others like them. Psalm 68:5-6 says “A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads out the prisoners with singing…” When we started going to Romaniv back in the day those verses confounded me. How was God being a father to those abandoned boys? How was he caring for them? I just didn’t see it and was super confused about how to think about that promise of God. But then in that moment with Vlad, I realized that God was meeting with Vlad before we ever met him. God was fathering him in unseen ways and revealing himself to Vlad over the years. God was comforting him and defending his heart when he was abandoned by the world. It’s the only way Vlad could have known that God loved him. There’s just no other explanation. Several months ago Vlad got baptized at the church in the US he attends with my parents and we were able to watch it on the live stream. Vlad wanted to get baptized and the pastor spoke with him about it ahead of time to make sure he understood what it meant. When we watched the video it was obvious that Vlad met with God when he was baptized. He actually “whooped “with joy when he came up out of the water!
Our other boys seem to know God in a special way, like Vlad does. I see it in them and I’m thankful for it. We often tell them about God’s love for them. We pray for them and with them. They minister to us as we minister to them. The body of Christ is alive and well here on the Homestead. Praise God for that. ❤️
Yesterday we had the most amazing opportunity to witness the birth of our new foal! Gloria, one of our horses who we unexpectedly found out was already pregnant when we purchased her in October, gave birth to a sweet baby boy. New life never ceases to amaze me. It was an incredible day!
We always assumed that Gloria would give birth during the night or in the very early hours. And since we didn’t even know she was pregnant for most of the pregnancy, we didn’t know exactly when to expect the new arrival. Every morning I would look out my bedroom window to see if Gloria was waiting for her breakfast at the fence. If she was ever absent in those morning hours I would eagerly check to see if we had a baby. But…she decided to do it right smack in the middle of the day…and in the middle of the mud!
Jed and I were inside clipping our weiner dog’s nails (I promise we don’t only take care of animals here…😆) when Tonya, one of our team members ran into the house screaming our names. My heart about stopped- something terrible must have happened! We ran down the stairs “What? What happened?” “She’s giving birth!!!!!!” “Who?” (We also have a pregnant goat) “Gloria!!! Come quick!” Apparently, a neighbor was walking past our back fence on her way home from the little village store, saw a horse in the middle of the birthing process, and began screaming her lungs out to get someone’s attention. Tonya heard and we all started running to the barn. It was quite dramatic. 😁 We arrived on the scene to see a freshly born foal lying in the mud, still partially in the amniotic sac! Its legs were stuck in the sack so Jed pulled it away and then we all just watched Gloria and her mothering instincts take over. Ahhhhh it was so beautiful and special. We got to see our new colt stand for the first time on his stick-skinny, looooooooong legs, we saw how Gloria guided him to learn to nurse, and how she protected him from the curiosity of the other horses. All of us who live with the boys here on the Homestead just stayed with them for hours, watching the new life unfold. So much fun. Dajana, our resident “horse person”, is actually in Germany right now and was so upset to miss the birth! We were sending videos, Facetiming, and wishing so badly that she was with us on the special day. We miss you, Dajana!
Once we established that he is actually a “he”, we started the name convo. We hadn’t discussed names at all and I’ll tell you what, two Ukrainians, a German, and a few Americans all agreeing on a name is a great “experience” in honesty, team building, compromise, and kindness… and is about as easy as herding cats. Ha! We had to agree on a name that sounds good in all three languages (German, Ukrainian, and English) and with all three accents. In the end, at 11:00pm, we decided to use rank-order voting in order to make a fair choice. Thankfully, Christiana was once a voting official and was able to guide us through the process. 😂 We each submitted two name ideas and then we each ranked them according to our likes and dislikes. For your amusement, here is the list of names we were voting on:
The List (in no particular order)
Ryan Gosling
Horse Named Sioux (inspired by the Johnny Cash song “A Boy Named Sue”)
Bjorn
Johnny Cash
Marty
Kev
Uhtred
Josh of the Woods (inspired by our board chairman and US Director of Operations- Josh Woods)
Carl
Keanu Reaves
Clint
Woody
Seastar
Chandler
Johnny Go Lightly
And the winning name is….”Horse Named Sioux”!! He will affectionately be referred to as “Horse”. We think it’s absolutely hilarious that that name won. But, in a country where English is not the commonly spoken language, it’s actually quite cute and funny to hear Ukrainians calling him “Horse”. I love it so much. It makes me laugh.
Anyway, we wanted to introduce you to our sweet Horse, the newest member of the Wide Awake Family. He is already and will be well-loved. Welcome to the world, Horse Named Sioux! ❤️
Here is a beautiful intro from our team’s Instagram
Last week, we lost another friend at Romaniv to the great enemy: death. This is the second boy who has died since I arrived in the fall, and as always, my heart is heavy. I know that he is safe in the arms of Jesus, and the suffering that he endured here is over, and yet I am grieved by how his story here ended. I want to see more redemption in the lives of our boys. I want them to experience more than the walls of Romaniv. I want them to have the love and safety of a family. And for yet another friend, that is no longer a possibility.
Over and over, we have lost boys who we hoped in our hearts would come to live with us. Sometimes we even spoke their names out loud when making plans for the future. Living in the time and place where we do, we know all too well how little control we have over the future. But this reality—that our friends can and do die at Romaniv before we get them out—it is a particular kind of hard. Today, Kim and I named all the boys who have died since she and Jed started this work. Ten names. Ten precious people. And with each, the gut-wrenching feeling is the same.
There is a grinding hopelessness at Romaniv, and it can wear us down, too. As much as we love the boys at Romaniv, as big as our hearts and dreams are for them, we can’t make Romaniv into something that it’s not. We can go, we can spend time with the boys, we can build relationships and cultivate goodwill with the staff and administration, but we cannot make Romaniv into a good place for our friends to live. After all the years that the rest of the team has faithfully spent at Romaniv, what stands out to me is how little it has changed. It is not exactly the same as when I first visited nearly seven years ago, but it is still a place I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Despite every effort, our boys’ lives continue to be something more endured rather than fully lived. Our boys continue to die. And we continue to wonder about the circumstances of their deaths: was this death preventable, were they alone or was someone with them at the end, is anyone else mourning their loss as we do?
And once again, we recognize the urgency of our work. Our life on the Homestead often feels anything but urgent. We have cultivated a peace and a slowness that belies the urgency, that shields from the life and death nature of what we are doing. Each time, it’s like we have snatched another guy from the clutches of Romaniv and settled down in our little oasis to do the hard, slow work of really living. And in our oasis, the days can feel full, even busy, but rarely urgent. Yet there remains an urgency underlying all of this peace. We have our guys here with us, but more remain in the institution. Will they get to experience the love and safety of a family on this side of heaven? When we are ready to take the next guy, will he still be there?
So we strive towards our goals knowing that this work is truly a matter of life and death. We work towards having the capacity and space to add another friend to our permanent Dim Hidnosti family. We work towards a sustainable life here that can be replicated by other people who have a heart for deinstitutionalization. And we fight against the numbness or hardness that can creep in as a defense against the hopelessness of Romaniv. We fight to continue showing up at Romaniv with open hearts and an eagerness to connect with our boys, to be with them and build relationships with them, to let them know that they are never forgotten or alone. It’s challenging to do year after year, but our friends deserve it. Each one deserves it.
Happy Friday, Friends! Today is officially the first day of spring here in Ukraine and we are hoping spring is actually here, and here to stay. I’m not sure how much snow and ice and melt and rain and snow and ice and melt and rain this soul can handle. We are all aching for spring and will be welcoming it with open arms. Yesterday we fired up the fire pit (see what I did there…) and enjoyed time together in the sun after horse time and it was a glorious glimpse of the spring and summer ahead of us.
I thought it was about time to give you all an update on our brave Ruslan. It’s been 4 months since Jed and Ruslan arrived back in Ukraine from their big American adventure, and almost 7 months since Ruslan’s life-changing surgery. He has put a lot of hard work into his recovery since then and you should hear all about it!
The main concern we had about doing such a major operation on Ruslan was whether we would have the ability to support his recovery once he came back to Ukraine. In the past, we haven’t had the best luck finding quality physical therapy for our boys. In fact, we’ve had no luck at all. PT in Ukraine is mostly passive and we knew needed to find a therapist here who could imagine and dream of a future for Ruslan in which he would thrive, physically, and be willing to join arms with us in making that happen. Also, Ruslan has a very specific, unique personality. He won’t just accept anyone. The PT would need to be willing to form a friendship with Ruslan first, in order for Ruslan to have the motivation to push himself to grow and heal. Everything is relational with our boys, and Rus is no exception to that. He has no interest in hearing from an expert, but he will do anything for a friend. ❤️
So, the biggest miracle I have to report is that we have found the most wonderful, kind, encouraging, gentle, and wise physical therapist. His name is Ilya and he is God’s gift to our boys. Ilya is a peaceful, joyful presence here on the Homestead and most importantly, Ruslan adores him. Ilya comes to the Homestead three times a week and does therapy with Ruslan, and twice a week he also does therapy with Boris. In the future, we hope he will be available to work with all of our boys, but he also works at our regional hospital so he doesn’t have loads of time. But we’ll gladly take what we can get!
When Ilya comes Rus is eager to see him and eager to please him. When he knows it’s a therapy day he waits impatiently all day for Ilya to arrive. They do their work together and then they drink coffee together as friends. It’s a special time for Rus and he is making great strides in his healing! He now walks more consistently on his whole foot (not just on his toes, like before) and Ilya has begun working with him on walking more upright instead of leaning forward so much when he walks. He still very much needs the support of his orthotic and he needs reminders to use his whole foot, but he is getting better and better. When he came home from the US he was still using a walker! We are really proud of him. His healing journey will be a long one, considering the damage done to his hips and spine from years of adapting to his deformed foot, but we are ready for that and feel enormously thankful for the gift of the operation done in California.
I’m also happy to report to you that Ruslan has resumed his work at a local electrical shop! Last year he worked there for a bit but it didn’t go great. He wasn’t emotionally ready at that time. But he is ready now. The trip to the US helped him to grow, emotionally. Our teacher, Inna, goes with Rus to work twice a week for a couple of hours and so far he is doing great!
And the most fun news I saved for last.
Yesterday Ruslan RODE A HORSE. Ruslan. Our Ruslan. The Ruslan who is afraid of everything. The Ruslan who won’t get in a pool or even put his feet in a lake. The Ruslan who absolutely hates trying new things, especially if they involve using his body in a new way. That Ruslan. He rode one of our horses!!!! I never ever imagined Ruslan would ride one of the horses. Drink coffee next to the horses, sure. Brush the horses, why not? But taking a ride? Never in a million years. But he did! And boy was he proud of himself. The great crowd of Ruslan fans watching him from the sidelines was also very proud.
Our Ruslan is a fighter and he is thriving right now in every way. This has been a huge year for him and he has exceeded our expectations. Thank God for his kindness and care for Rusik. Thank you all for your prayers. And finally, a huge shout-out and MASSIVE thank you to Steve, Debbie, Diane, Jasmine, Dr. Nicholas Abidi, and the staff at Dominican Hospital in Santa Cruz for helping to change Ruslan’s life. We will never forget your kindness and generosity.
Tomorrow marks two years of Russia’s all out war against Ukraine. Technically, Russia invaded Ukraine 10 years ago this month, but tomorrow marks two years since we woke to bombs exploding and our house shaking. Tomorrow marks two years of a new way of life. Tomorrow marks two years of great pain and sorrow in our land. We now think of our lives in terms of “before” and “after” and tomorrow marks two years of “after”. We will never be the same because now we know so many things that we never knew before. We have endured tragedy and fear and indecision like never before. We’ll never be who we were “before” so now we learn how to live with who we have become “after”.
I pretty much stopped writing about the war here on the blog and in our newsletters. Partly because, what do I even say? “Yes, it’s still happening…and please don’t stop praying”?? Partly because I just don’t want to talk about it online. Partly (or a lot) because I’m afraid you don’t want to hear about it. But mostly because talking about it, writing about it, forces me to confront my own thoughts about it and I usually just don’t want to go there. All the war-related pieces of my heart are out-of-bounds, a pandora’s box that I’d rather not open, a painful wound that I don’t want to touch. The war is always there, in the background or in the foreground, lingering on the sidelines or shouting in our faces. It is the backdrop of our lives. It has changed us as people and as an organization, and diving into the hows, the whats, and the whys requires a level of introspection that I rarely have the gumption to rise to.
We often have days here on the Homestead when the war seems a world away. We continue on with our work, loving and caring for our boys, our Homestead like a bubble of safety that the world dares not penetrate. We ride the horses, play with the puppies, enjoy coffee and celebrations with our boys, sing together, cook together, pray together. Our life here with our boys is not easy and has its own special (ever-changing) set of challenges, but what we have here is special and despite everything, we feel safe here on our property. We don’t live in a constant state of fear and worry. We press on because we know that God has called us to press on, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Our mission has never been more important than it is now and we are committed to it with all of our hearts. I thank God for the peace He has given us and the blessing He has poured out on our family, our team, and this place. After fleeing and living as refugees in a foreign land, I will never again take this Homestead for granted. It is truly God’s gift to everyone who steps foot inside the gates.
So, we don’t live in constant fear, but it would be dishonest and unrealistic to say we do not have moments of fear and uncertainty. The current news is extremely disheartening, to say the least. We are outmanned and our ammunition is quickly being depleted. The current political climate in the US, my native country, is impossible to comprehend and the consequences of political decisions being made (or not made) there are super frightening for us living here in Ukraine. I remember a Youtube video I made during the first few days of the war when I just couldn’t believe that the world wasn’t rushing in to help. We were in shock that the world just stood by and watched, expecting Kyiv to fall within days. It was the most vulnerable, scary feeling ever. I don’t want to feel that again, but the feelings are creeping back to haunt us. Please world, please USA, please Europe, please NATO, please don’t give up on us. Please don’t let the madman win. Please don’t believe the Russian propaganda. Please believe Ukraine is worth saving. Please don’t stop caring. Please don’t get tired of this. Our lives and the lives of so many we love depend on it.
The first year anniversary of this war was highly emotional for us all. We were haunted by memories of those first few weeks. Now, this year, we don’t look so much at the past, but think more about the future. I feel “safe” today on my wonderful Homestead. But what about tomorrow? What about 6 months from now? If things continue on the current trajectory we are in for a world of hurt this coming year. Yet we know that God promises to be with us. He doesn’t promise us safety, but he promises to never leave us or forsake us. He has called us to this work and so we press on.
Would you pray with us on this anniversary for our precious Ukraine? Will you pray that God’s will would be done in this land? Would you pray with us for a miraculous victory that only God can provide? At this point we realize that we can not lift our eyes to politicians or countries or governments for our rescue. God is our rescuer and our lives are in his hands.
I lift up my eyes to the hills– where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. Psalm 121:1-2
Thank you for your continued love, support, and prayer. Please don’t forget Ukraine.
