“Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning… Make some light.” - The Tale of Despereaux
At camp, we had small group discussion and craft time every morning with the kids. This year, I was in a small group with about 17 15-18 yr. olds, mostly boys, 5 girls. I’ve never been in a small group with older kids before. I was nervous because I have a harder time relating to older kids than younger kids. 6yr olds just want to be held and played with, how was I going to talk with 16 yr olds? Well, I didn't have to, they grilled us with questions through our Ukrainian team leaders.
“Why are you here?”
“Are you happy here?”
“What is your dream?”
“Do you like us?”
They were thrilled just being around us. Since we were the foreigners, we came with super star status. The kids were very sweet. It’s heart breaking watching 18 yr old boys making journals and showing them off to me for approval. They tried to impress us with their English and made sure the Ukrainians were translating everything so we could understand. They were so deprived of attention. Denis would take my hand and just hold it against his face. He was 16.
All 6yr olds demand attention, so when I worked with the little kids on past trips their lack was harder to recognize. When I saw these teens reaching out for any kind of approval or attention, I realized how devoid of love their lives really are.
My small group
And then there was Vanya.
I met Vanya the second day of camp. Each day one of the Ukrainian team members taught a master class on various subjects for the orphans. This day, Liliya taught a watercolor class, and Lizzy and I decided to join. Only two orphans came to class, and my painting of a wave looked more like a giant blue smear.
"God, this isnt working. on so many levels. Now what?"
Then Vanya walked in and started talking with Liliya. Lizzy and I say hi, but our limited Russian soon snuffed conversation. We found out Vanya was 19, and we could tell he was talking with Liliya about his family, but that was all we could understand. Frustrated I couldn’t communicate better, I got up to leave.
"Why are you leaving?" Vanya asked in English.
I thought it was quite obvious, but he wanted me to stay so I sat back on the bench next to Liliya and just prayed God would speak to Vanya in between our few words back and forth in Ruskglish.
That night I heard his story. Vanya has a tattoo of Jesus on the right side of his chest, opposite his heart, because he believes Jesus is far away from him. When HFO had a camp at Kharkov 5 years ago, Vanya was there and decided to follow Jesus. But his life didn’t change, God didn’t answer his prayers and Vanya didn’t feel Him near. So he became angry with God, and wants answers. If God loves, why does Vanya still suffer?
Of course God would use an orphan to confront my own greatest questions.
Vanya (photo cred: Dima Tkachuk)
The darkness in these kids’ lives wore me down. I felt like Maria in the Sound of Music, imploring the stern Captain to see the needs of his children. “Oh please, Captain, love them! Love them all!”
I wrote in my journal that night,
Aug. 1, 2012 I know this is not a true perspective of You. Show me Your heart. I cannot move forward with this warped understanding of You. You are good. You are sovereign. I need to know.
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