#heartcountry: But You Heard Me Today

We just returned from a short 5 day camp with kids from Gorodenya during their spring break. This is an orphanage we have been visiting for several years now and have relationships with kids we've watched grow into teenagers, several of which were in my small group this time.

One of these kids is a young man I will refer to as Roma to honor his identity. Over the years Roma has spent time with host families in the States and has learned to speak English pretty well. This camp was the first time I really got to sit down and talk with him outside of the usual games and activities of camp. He told me about his favorite sports teams, hobbies, and things he liked to eat in the States. He also told me about his family. I didn't realize it before, but his older brother is a young man who was once in my small group with my mom a few summers ago. We still write to each other and video chat from time to time. What I didn't know is that Roma's brother is not doing well. He stopped his studies, isn't working, and left the ministry house he was living in because he wasn't willing to follow the house rules. He now lives on the streets and in the metro. We know this is a common story for many kids who age out of orphanages, but it's a hard reality to accept. The orphanage does not and cannot equip these young people to face life on the outside. It's hard to watch these kids grow and know they are running out of time and that as horrible as their conditions may be in the orphanage, their chances for a good life once they leave the orphanage are slim. 1 in 10. And that's a statistic from almost 10 years ago. With the ongoing war with Russia, I doubt the statistics have improved.

Roma prayed with us during group time a few times and I witnessed him being kind to kids who were loners or disadvantaged, but I also saw him being rude to other kids and trying to manipulate team members to get something from them. I think he is unfortunately like many kids who are hosted and get into a mentality that Americans are for getting cool stuff. Many of the kids live double lives, trying to impress us (and their host families) to our faces and acting horrible toward each other when they think we aren't paying attention. I don't say that to make these kids seem like bad kids. Honestly, it makes sense that they would cheat and bully each other. I don't think they're trying to be conniving when they're trying to please us, they're just fighting for attention, acceptance, and survival in a brutal environment where few things are certain or consistent.

During our first small group time, the Ukrainian leader in my group explained it was his first time doing camp at this orphanage and asked who has been to camp before. Some of the kids raised their hands. Then one boy, Andre, said “Abi’s done camp here before; she’s been coming here as long as we’ve been here!”

I’ve been going to Gorodenya for 6 years but I didn’t realize that kids like Andre noticed or cared. As I'm given wider and deeper perspective into these kids' lives and how helpless I am to change anything, this moment encouraged me that at the very least presence matters.

After our second day’s lesson, one of the girls in our small group wanted to show me her room and her drawings. One of the drawings was a sign that read “your dreams don’t work unless you do.” I asked her what she dreams about and she said “nothing”. I asked her why and she said because she doesn’t believe in dreams. In very broken Ukrainian I told her about my impossible dreams story, that several years ago I had stopped dreaming because dreams could be painful and disappointing, but God gave me new dreams and one of those dreams was to live in Ukraine- and here I am. My prayer for her is that God will show her His "impossible" dreams for her.

After the camp day was over we had an evening team leader meeting. One of our new team members shared that she realized we can only be an example and give kids a taste of what they are worth and what life could be. We can’t be these kids' best friend because we will leave at the end of the week and can't promise to be consistently in their lives the way they need.

After the meeting I thanked her for sharing because her words were so important and needed to be heard by the rest of the team. We have potential to cause as much harm as good. Too many times I got close to a child because I wanted the validation of being loved and needed but when camp ended I left that child feeling more abandoned and rejected than they already felt because I was loving them for myself and not for their benefit.

She told me that the children love me, that even before getting to know me she heard about me because the kids would talk about me and ask where I was and save a seat for me next to them. She said coming to camp she thought what was most important was talking with the kids, but she saw that I can’t even speak really well with them but they love me and feel my love for them. It touched me deeply and encouraged me that God is using me and what I’m doing matters.

This kind of ministry isn't one for quick results. In fact, most days it feels like losing. It's not hard to slide into a rut of thinking nothing you're doing makes a difference or will foster real positive change. On returning from camp, I was reminded of these words from Oscar Romero,

"We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very, very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the Master Builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future that is not our own.”

I remember Gary Haugen once saying the work of justice is long and boring. There are beautiful moments of glorious miracles and chain-breaking results, but for the most part it's like living through an ages long winter with only the future hope of spring as comfort.

Before this camp I heard a beautiful story from François Clemmons who played Officer Clemmons on Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. He said after one particularly moving episode Fred closed the show with the same words he always closed his show, "I like you just the way you are. You make each day a special day by just your being you," while looking right at François. After he said those lines Fred walked over to François and François asked, "Fred, were you talking to me?" And Fred replied, "I have been talking to you for years, but you heard me today."

God is like that. And I want to be like that for these kids. It may take years of showing and telling, but someday just might be the day a kid hears us.