The Lord Arises for the Needy

Psalm 12:5, today's Word says, "For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, NOW I will arise,"says the Lord; I will set in the safety for which he yearns."

This is the day our family stands before a judge who has the power to place two small boys 11, and 12 years old in "the safety for which they yearn." Thankfully for us all, the Judge of all the earth in in control of all things, and it is really His decision.

Yesterday morning I left the kvarteera, apartment alone and made my way through the maze of concrete building we have strangely come to love and call home for the past week. There was ice on the mud and the frozen dead leaves the babushkas had missed in their sweeping up were crunchy underfoot.

I was laden, like most women leaving in the morning, with two big plastic bags, only mine contained party favors fof 16 children who were about to say goodbye to two of their classmates. And Bob and Rob and I would have to try not to notice the longing in the eyes of those who would be left behind. But the party would be fun and lively, the candies would be aplenty, the cake beautifully decorated in Ukrainian fruit-topped style and Julia suggested we all play Twister.

It would be Ms Sylvia against Inna and Alina the bubbly twins and tiny, giggling Galia. The spinner would be Anya, whose Mama died last year. (Her big brother, Alousha, who feels very responsible for his younger sister and brother, was the last to come shyly to greet me and get a word of encouragement as I was leaving last evening.)

We played our turns and fell on each other in a laughing heap of girls, Rob and boys doing the same in their game, with Sasha and Zhenya, looking a little serious, acting as the perfect hosts.

But all that was yet to come. First I had to meet Ira and she and I would take the boys shopping for jackets and shoes. The clothes they were wearing belonged to the orphanage and there were opther kids who needed them. They could keep their undies but the supervisor commanded me to buy new ones for their medical appointment.

So, while Bob and Rob went for the plastic forks and the plates, pop and cake, off we went. Ira had Sasha on her arm and my arm was slipped through Zhenyas to get a taxi at the corner. Snuggled inside the back seat next to me, Zhenya yawned and said, "I was awake last night dreaming about my life in America."

He and Sasha very patiently and pleasantly trailed along as Ira and I fished through a hundred little booths in the indoor/outdoor market, squeezing past other shoppers in the tight aisles between the stalls, each with a shopkeepers thickly bundled against the below freezing temperatures, most with his or her hands around a steaming cup.

Most places did not have children's sizes, but God was gracious to us, and we eventually found what we needed. So, before the boys' feet froze in their thin socks, we hustled into the warmth of the Mc Donald's for chicken sandwiches, followed by hot tea. They donned their new hats and gloves, and Zhenya, being older, decided it was he who should carry the huge bundles of jackets and shoes. Sasha agreed, but it was he who, as usual, got our coats, cleared the table and helped open doors for the ladies.

We went upstairs to their playroom, for the party and after clean-up,left the boys for what might have been their last night sleeping in an orphanage. If all goes well today we might be able to catch the last night train and do busines in Kiev tomorrow. Tehhn Monday finish up and not have to change the Tuesday date of our flight. Amazing grace of God that would be!

The party finished, we went down to the hallway to waited for Amelia's husband to pick us up. The friendly, inquisitive teacher had promised us borsht and dumpling for supper as the perfect ending to our stay in Odessa.

You never just wait, however, for someone in the hallway of the internot. If you stand there smiling, you become surrounded by friendly Ukrainians. Some come up to you and ask questions and some God draws to the hallway, and they just stand there, their wistful eyes waiting for you to ask them a question.

My question for little Viktor, a very small 15 year old was, "Shto your naga? Bol? " What happened to your leg? Does it hurt? Blankly he told me he had injured it playiing soccer. I bet! Likely he got run over by a bigger boy. I had noticed Victor's serious face this past week as he ran by in the hall with the other kids, but he had never stopped to speak to me. Now something was drawing him here.

I said, "Did you pray?" and a larger handsome boy answered for him,, "Viktor doesn't pray." So I asked, "May I pray for your leg, then?" All the kids watched as Viktor Pinkin thought about it, and a very tiny light struggled to come into his sad eyes. He finally replied, "Da." So I put my hands on his ankle and asked Jesus to love Viktor and heal it.

The older boy who had spoken began asking questions. He said he was a Believer. So, Tolik and the others listened, especially Marina the door guard, we shared about the kindness of God. I asked Viktor if he'd like a pen pal in America. He said yes and so did a tall, smiling boy they teasingly called Yarislov the Wise. Yarislov Kramarenko is 16, and he gets such good grades in school. Ask me if you would like to write to any of these boys, each with such different needs, but all longing for love and Jesus' touch.

Pointing to the cross on Yarislov's neck chain I said that Jesus loves us so greatly that He died on a cross for our sins. The kids listened respectfully and in silence. Then it was time to go. I hugged as many as wanted it and kissed Tasia, who had followed me from upstairs bouncing along with the other 13 or 14 year old girls, trying their hardest to make the "th" sound so they could say, "Thank you" correctly. Tasia wants to write to Shelby, a girl I know would really love her smiling eyes.

Around the table at Amelia's home Bob and Rob and Dima, our translator, enjoyed the tastiest borsht ever. When I asked Amelia about the recipe she laughed and said it was Real Borsht, that it takes three days to make because you must soak the beans first. I asked if it was a secret recipe, and she laughed. Sorry Maggie! You and I will just have to keep trying till we get it perfect.

After dinner Amelia's 18 year old son Miraslov sang for us in a deep booming voice one song in Ukrainian and one in Russian. It was wonderful. Miraslov is studying music, of course. Miraslov also is wondering about a church where he could sing. His parents attend Baptist Church at Easter only, but listened attentively as Dima translated phrase by phrase my answer to their questions about our faith.

I am so grateful for a real faith, a living relationship with a Living God, Who loves us and wants to involve Himself is every minute of every day of our lives. That at Easter time His Son died as payment for our sins, to give us a new heart and a reason to live beyond today.

Beyond today lies in His hands, for us here in Ukraine. Soon Dima will pick us up and we will spend a looong day in and out of taxis and in and out of offices and court rooms, with little time for eating or bathroom, or so says Dima. I might not write again till we returmn to Mississippi. I don't know. I don't know where we will be staying in Kiev or if we will fly Dec 20 anrriving Dec 21. I hope so. I do know that our new life with our new boys could begin tonight on a bumpy train to Kiev Ukraine. Praise be to the Lord.