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!

1 comment:

  1. My prayers are with Ukraine, and also with your beautiful family. xoxoxox from New Mexico.


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