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Thankful

Happy Thanksgiving (a day late)!

I had a witty post simmering in my brain all about the antics of yesterday. I have a photo diary of potatoes soaking in the bathtub, turkey in its brine on the covered balcony, cornbread for stuffing, and out-of-thisuniverse pumpkin pie vareniki that we created. But I just can’t go there today. It’ll have to wait.

I spent this morning at Romaniv Orphanage for boys and men, and I have so much more to share than turkey wit. I wish so badly that you could have come along with me. I know if you did you would never be the same. No one can be the same after spending time at Romaniv.

We first visited Romaniv in April of 2012. Jed and I, our eyes met as we looked over the room of boys, “Yes, this is what we were created for.”

In May we visited again, looking with different eyes, ones that were wise to the fact that soon these boys would become a part of normal life for us.

Today I returned for the first time since our move and I am wrecked.

These are not just boys in pictures. These are not just sad stories to gain your sympathy. These are Zhenya, Vitalik, Misha, Valera, and Sergei. These are little hands that hold mine and walk the halls and throw balls and build legos. These are little hands and big hands that hit themselves and each other for stimulation. These are faces that smile, and frown, and grimace, and bite; faces that are smooth like a baby and faces that are covered with the scars of self-abuse. These are eyes that light up, eyes that are clever and knowing- even when the mouth can’t speak, eyes that are blind, and eyes that are distant, almost unaware of the other humans around. These are not just another need that is unmet. These are not just another story to make you feel guilty for your wealth.

These are real boys. They are now a very real part of our life. These are “our” boys. And they are beautiful.

One boy, who is now a man is unable to walk, but there is no wheelchair for him. Day after day he lays in a small room in his bed while life passes him by. The caregivers want so much for that to NOT be his life, but what can they do?

As I sat at his bedside and rubbed his back, unable to speak to him in his language my heart broke and melted at the same time. My heart broke for him, that this is his reality, that when I return home to my Jed and my babies he will still be lying there alone. But my heart melted at the same time with the love of the Father. God sees and He knows. God has brought people to Romaniv for such a time as this. This boy, this man, he is not forgotten. God brought Nina, a volunteer for Mission to Ukraine, to his bedside to hold him like a Mommy and feed him a banana. God is on the move in Romaniv, and God is on the move on behalf of the orphans of Ukraine.

So, today I am thankful for the beautiful boys of Romaniv. I’m thankful for the opportunity to love them, hold them, play with them, and look them in the eye. I’m thankful for Nina, who has her own son with special needs at home, and faithfully visits Romaniv each week and is called “Mama” by many. I’m thankful that although the need looks outrageous, and the situations seems impossible, God has made promises and they WILL be fulfilled. These boys are not beyond His grasp, not too far from His reach. The one with the most scars from continually banging his head on the wall is not beyond hope. Each of these boys is known by the Father and He will have His way.

For these boys, and other boys and girls just like them, God asked us to move across the world and be His hands and feet. I’m so, very, very thankful for that. May God have His way in Romaniv and in the lives of the fatherless all across Ukraine. So be it!

Posted with Blogsy

kimnjed November 29, 2013 5

Romaniv

Being Human

By Jed:

Have you ever tried to cut back blackberry brush?

If you have, you are already feeling that sense of dread. If you haven’t, imagine fighting off the huge squid on 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

You’ll spend hours fighting a blackberry bush and when you step back it looks like you were sitting on your hands, “Oh, that’s nice Honey. What have you been doing out there all morning?”

Shoulders slumped, you head back out to the fray, hoping to make a dent in the seemingly insurmountable task. Hands bleeding, mud up to your calves, the stench of something that died at the far end of the brambles but you push on.

Though this is a bit of a crass example, there is a similar feeling that must come across the beautiful men and women who faithfully go to Romaniv (an orphanage for boys with special needs) every week. “Am I making any difference?”

I’m just assuming they feel this way some days, cause riding in the van out there yesterday you wouldn’t have known they feel anything but joy. These folks are my heroes.

Kim and I have a favorite place at Romaniv. It’s called the Isolation Room. Most of the boys and men are mobile, though with varying levels of difficulty. I am reticent to show you pictures because it is quite traumatic and I want you to meet them, not just see them.

Let me tell you about Zhenya. If I showed you a picture you would see a quiet boy, drooling and hunched over. With his head down, his eyes would be looking up at you with a precious, but distant smile across his face.

But as the music started to play and I had the honor of cuddling Zhenya, his stiff body softened. As I rubbed his head he leaned into me and fell asleep. He woke up and smiled at me and I looked into his eyes and smiled at him. I prayed Jesus would be near to his heart. That he would feel the love of God. That he would just feel human. I will continue to pray for Zhenya. Will you?

Now I need to tell you about Vova. If you saw him you would see cuts, scrapes and bites all over him. You would see his hands and wrists bleeding and mutilated by years of wounds trying to heal. You would see an old man in a boy-size body. But his scowled face softened as a wonderful nun started to play music. She comes every week. Vova’s posture relaxed, just a little. I crouched next to him and put my arm around him. There was a part of me that felt afraid. I’d like to say I’m in perfect peace at Romaniv, but some moments are harder than others. He got to spend an hour and a half where he didn’t feel the need to self-stim by biting himself.

Our over-the-top “need” for cleanliness and purel puts up a lot of barriers for us folks in the west, but Vova needs to know he is worthy of love and affection. He needs someone brave enough. The amazing people who volunteer weekly to come play with these boys are astounding. Jesus, be near Vova’s heart. Let him feel your love, Father. Holy Spirit bring peace to his mind and body.

Lastly, I must tell you about Misha. Last year he was the little boy in the corner who was very closed off, self-stimulated by hitting the bridge of his nose and his temple.

A year later he looked much healthier, though he has the same wounds he was more engaged with people. When Betta, the nun, began to play he immediately softened. His face relaxed, with the slightest smile. He swayed side to side with his eyes closed and it was beautiful to see the change in him. Jesus, be near Misha. Father, pour out your love onto Misha. Holy Spirit bring your peace.

The consistent faithfulness of Mission to Ukraine and the volunteers who come every week is making a difference in these boys. They are changing, growing, healing. God’s Kingdom is coming and it is beautiful. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Matt. 5:3

It was our absolute honor to come alongside MTU yesterday and love on the boys and men of Romaniv. The mutual love and excitement in the air was almost tangible. We can’t wait to be weekly participants in this mission of love once we move to Zhitomir.

As we rode home, I marveled at Betta’s smile. She didn’t need to know that what she was doing supported brain development and attachment. She just feels God’s pleasure as she loves His children. Glimpses of the Kingdom of Heaven breaking through in the most unlikely of places.

kimnjed May 19, 2013 5