Final Days

Traveler’s Note:
When washing your hands always turn on the water before putting soap on them or you may end up with a handful of soap with no way to rinse it off. (Be sure to keep some hand sanitizer on close by)

Quarantine

When I arrived in Vapnyarka on Wednesday the 25th of February the kids were in the middle of a week of no school. They were quarantine! The whole school was quarantine. Too many kids were sick, so they closed school for a whole week to keep it from spreading. Other than the three boys in Odessa, the kids were all at home, enjoying life without homework.

This time off school was a blessing to me as well. I was able to spend more time with the kids. We played BINGO and UNO. We played a towering bunny game I found in the bottom of my suit case. We watched movies and played with dolls. On the few days the sun was shining we played in the snow and rollerbladed on the pavement. Other than Andrei having to go to the hospital for a week because his cough was so bad, it was a glorious time.

Reaching New Heights

In May, I put up a height chart in the children’s center. I measured all seventeen kids and myself. Ten months later, I measured them again. Incredible! They grew an average of two inches each. I on the other hand, had shrunk about an inch and was officially labeled “Babushka” or grandma.

I knew the kids had grown during my time with them but I didn’t realize how much till I saw it with my own eyes. As each child stood in front of the chart awaiting the results, a smirk of anticipation lit each face. At the sight of their new heights they became excited. A sense of pride filled their eyes. They eagerly shared their results. Measuring them did not only record their physical growth but allowed their self esteem to blossom.

Saying Goodbye

It is never easy to say goodbye to the ones you love. For me, leaving these young children in Vapnyarka was no different. Not knowing if or when I will see them again makes it even more difficult. I worry about them.

Will they know they are loved? Will they make better decisions than their parents? What does life have in store for them? Will they become part of the statistics? But somehow, through the hugs and the tears, I have found peace. Even though I love them dearly, these children do not belong to me; they never did. They are the Lord’s. It is in the Lord’s hands that I leave them.

It does not mean I don’t cry for them. It does not mean that my heart does not break for them when I think of the tragic past that haunts them. It does not mean I don’t cringe when I think of the battles that lie ahead of them. It means I realize that I am not God. It means I pray for them daily. I pray that their past is not their future. I pray for healing. I pray that they find hope. I pray that they know they are loved.