Why feeling matters.

I sit here in my apartment in Lublin, Poland, on this rainy Good Friday, a world away from my southern home nestled in the mountains of north Georgia.  As I stare at this screen and sip my coffee, I find myself a bit stumped. . .contemplating the most concise way to share the whirlwind of my experience that has been the last 10 days. 

Our small team arrived in Poland on April 5 and hit the ground running the following day.  Though we bring unique talents and skills that marry well with this endeavor, it has been a bit like drinking water from a fire hose.   Luckily, we have been able to come alongside our new friends here, and, with their insight and willingness to share their experiences, we have been able to tap into a rhythm of support that is proving to be effective.

I recognize how vital it is for us to be able to share with you exactly how your donations are being used and the difference they are making. 

For example, our first active day here was Wednesday, April 6.  On Thursday, April 7, with the help of our new friend, Pastor Igor Buben, we purchased 2 tons (that’s 4,000 pounds!) of shelf stable food, which was loaded, transported across the border into Ukraine, sorted by volunteers into individual bags, and distributed to people in Chernihiv on Sunday.

That’s 4 days, my friend.

4 days to make that kind of impact – and in an active war zone, no less!  Even the leanest Six Sigma organizations back home can appreciate the magnitude of how our small, rag-tag team efforts are not only efficient, but effective.

But that’s the way it is here.  These efforts, our “successes” - they are the result of a coming together of people unlike anything I have ever witnessed.  A beautiful, tangible example of the provision and presence of God.

But equally important – perhaps, maybe even more so, is this weighty feeling I have to convey to you not just stories of our experience here, but the emotion permeating every word, every action of the work we are doing.

As our new friend, Jaroslaw Lukasik, humbly shared with us on our first day, “Ukrainians are grateful for the support, for the love, but they want you to feel with Ukraine.”

It’s one thing to read headlines and news reports of the atrocities happening next door in Ukraine - it’s quite another to see the fallout of those atrocities in real time.

Our first day here we had the opportunity to deliver food to 3 Ukrainian women staying in one of the 5 shelters operated by Pastor Igor.  With our new friend, Martin, as translator, these women welcomed us into their small apartment and, though their provisions for food is limited, they set out cookies and put on a kettle for tea. 

We spent the next hour listening to their stories of how they left everything behind in exchange for their lives.  We asked questions when appropriate, but mainly just listened. 

It was humbling.  And troubling. 

To look into the eyes of a Ukrainian woman and see fiery rage at the continued violence and lack of military intervention.  To see the lines of worry on her brow as she told us of her Husband who remained behind to fight.  To witness the pride emanating from her as she introduced her 12-year-old son and cuddled her newborn 2-month-old son.

This woman is grateful for our support, but can you imagine what she feels daily?

This isn’t a call for pity for this woman or any of the Ukrainian people.  It is a call for the opposite. 

These people deserve our respect.  They deserve our help.  They deserve our consideration at how it must feel to have their freedom, their way of life, their family and friends murdered at the hands of a tyrant. 

So, my friend, let us consider this.  Let us do this.  Let us feel with the people of Ukraine.  And then let us act in solidarity and support.