Wednesday, March 16, 2022


 I am not a brave person.

I have always run from danger.

I've never jumped in and stopped a fight.

I've always had the motto to keep a low profile, keep my head down and stay out of conflict.

I let others fight my battles. I let others protest. I let others take on the bullies of this world.

I'm ashamed to share that.

I'm not brave.

But I know what brave looks like.

Brave is leaving everything behind and becoming a refugee in a foreign land.

Brave is saying goodbye.

Brave is tenderly rescuing an elderly woman and her cat.

Brave is honoring those who have fallen.

Brave is comforting.

Brave is knowing that taking a stand will end your life as you know it.

Brave is protesting against what your country is doing in Ukraine.

Brave is volunteering even though you've never held a gun. 

Brave is fighting for your country.

Brave is refusing to leave your country and choosing to lead from the front.

Brave is rescuing the orphans.

Brave is carrying food into war torn areas.

Brave is searching among the rubble for the living.

I could go on and on.

I sit here day in and day out and watch the bravest people struggling against the greatest odds.

They fight and beg - close the skies. Please close the skies.

I hear our reasons why that's impossible.

We want to keep a low profile. Keep our heads down. Stay out of the conflict.

We need to protect our own.

And all the while... brave men and women and children are dying.

Little boys are saying goodbye to their Papas.

They are dying while we cower. 


We need to be brave!

We need to honor the agreement we made to Ukraine back in 1994. They gave up their nuclear weapons (the third largest in the world) and we promised to protect their borders. 

They signed in good faith.

We have broken that faith.

First in 2014.

Now in 2022


Friday, March 11, 2022

Unspeakable Horror

For two weeks now I've been numb.

Tears have leaked out of my eyes without my even realizing.

I grieve at every picture coming out of Ukraine. Every video.

Children have been killed. Residential buildings have been destroyed. Hospitals. Schools.

My heart is so grieved. I have few words and can only cry out to God.

When we talk about Ukraine, Rob and I use the pronouns we, us and ours - not they, them and their. Their country is ours. That's how personal this is. We don't do it intentionally. We catch ourselves doing it. It's a natural part of having three Ukrainian-born faces to wake up to each morning. 

It's personal because we are in first hand conversation with dear friends over there. They are the ones having the bombs dropped around them. They are the ones begging for the skies to be closed over them. They are the ones making Molotov cocktails day in and out.

They are the ones hiding out, clutching their children beside them.

They are the ones who are fleeing with just the clothes on their backs.

They are the ones in the 'safer' areas who are emptying their pantries, their closets, their bank accounts for their fellow Ukrainians.

They are the ones distributing food to the desperately needy.

We KNOW these people. We GRIEVE with these people.

It's personal and its real.

If I could go over and be the hands and feet of Jesus over there I would be on a plane in a heartbeat. We are here and we can give, and we can pray and I realize those are two worthy callings. 

And I can be a voice for my friends. I can be a voice for 'our' country across the sea. I can speak up for the voiceless right now. 

Two million and counting have fled Ukraine. They are shell shocked, scared, longing for a home they don't have anymore and dependent upon others for help. 

That leaves 39 million people in a country gone mad. Some are in "safe places" but as a dear friend stated yesterday, there are really no safe places. Bombs could drop just as easily on those safe places as the rest. 

Our prayers matter.

They FEEL them over there. They SEE God at work. In little ways. In big ways. His presence is in their midst. 

My friends tell me over and over - please pray. Please please pray. It is their number one plea.

One of our dear facilitators over there wrote me yesterday: "I believe the prayers of our families saved my life the last two weeks."

Please don't get weary of praying and caring. We are a short-term memory people. We watch with horror for a while, but when the horror doesn't let up we move on to the next big thing. Gas prices are our next big thing. It's all over my feed.

Sorry to be blunt but gas prices do not compare to bombs blowing up hospitals.

It just doesn't.

The situation in Ukraine is dire. People in some areas are starving to death with no way to get food, water and because Russia keeps breaking their promise for safe corridors, they cannot get out to safety.

This is a scary map. All those red spider webs are roads and areas where the Russians have control. 

The people in the villages in those areas are being terrorized. 

The cities are being bombed down to rubble.

It is unspeakable horror. Children caught in the crossfire.

Please don't stop praying. Please don't get weary of hearing about Ukraine. 

Please don't stop doing all you can to help!

Monday, March 7, 2022

The 38

 As you go about your Monday morning - feeding your wee ones, pouring milk into their bowls.

As you comb out tangles, look for lost socks, fuss over the mess on the floor.

As you struggle arms into coats and hustle your children out the door. For school. Or appointments. 

As you go about your Monday feeling harried and worried over all the things on your to do list.

As you go about your day.

Think of the 38.

38 lost wee ones. In a senseless war.

Think of their moms.

Think of their dads.

Think of the days where they will never again.

And never again.

And never again.

Because a man who has determined that their piece of real estate belongs to him....

Has robbed them of their ever again.

As you go about your day pray for those moms. 

Pray for those dads.

Because they are weeping in shock and anguish that in a mere 12 days, their entire world has crashed around them. 

The devastation is real. The pictures do not begin to capture the horror of what is happening.

Millions are homeless in a foreign land. 

Many more tens of millions are waiting for the bombs to drop.

In just 12 days.

Life as they knew it is over.

With no end in sight.

As you go about your day.

On this Monday morning - think of them.

Think of the tens of millions of them.

Afraid. Confused. Shocked. Angry. Clinging to their faith. Finding faith. 

Think of the wanderers.

Think of the soldiers.

Think of the elderly.

Think of the newly orphaned.

Think of the newly widowed.

Think of the disabled.

Think of the loss. Think of the devastation.

Think of the 38.

38 who will never again.

Never again. 



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