Website: http://www.wwyc.org/2009/teamcrimea

Visit our team war room on Facebook.com: World Wide Youth Camps – Team Crimea http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?topic=6378&uid=38497359730#/group.php?gid=38497359730 

This summer, I will be returning to Ukraine for the 4th year in a row. I’ve led two World Wide Youth Camps mission teams there and this will be my third opportunity to lead a team to reach out and provide unconditional love to the orphans in Ukraine’s Crimean pennisula.

WWYC is a non-profit Christian outreach ministry whose purpose is to bring hope to orphan children in a hopeless world. We will partner children with local young Ukrainian adults who can help mentor them toward success and bring hope adn meaning to their lives.

In Ukraine and other former Soviet Union block countries the outlook for success and survival of these children is grim. many are unadoptable.

In September 2008 WWYC’s CEO Greg Perry visited an orphanage in the city of Donetsk. He asked the orphange director, “of the children who leave the orphanage at age 17, How many out of 10 are successful?”

Before I share her reply, let me define “success”. It means, (1) a basic job, (2) clothing (3) shelter (enough to cover and protect them from the elements – may or may not have heat in winter) (4) enough food to keep them alive.

She replied after nearly 20 minutes of sobbing by holding up 2 fingers. TWO in TEN! My question is “What happens to the OTHER eight?!” That’s 80 percent!! So what happens to them?

Most die before age 23. Mostly from suicide because they have no hope. Most turn to prostitution (boys and girls), abuse narcotics or alchol to dull the hopelessness, and turn to crime. Any of these usually land them in jail. If they go to jail…they’re dead.

Most just take their own lives out of hopelessness. So, you see how desperate the need to bring hope to these children is. Please visit our WWYC team site and make a pledge or donate. Help send me and my team to bring hope to these children and to know that they are loved and cared for.

Thanks, Joel

(Excerpt from a blog comment0

What they [orphans] care about is:

• Knowing that someone, somewhere in the world CARES that they are ALIVE.
• Someone from 5,000 miles away would travel all that way just to BE with them.
• Someone to greet them with a SMILE and be HAPPY to see them…every time.
• Hug them.
• Share a an ice cream with them.
• Let them wear your favorite sunglasses and not get bent out of shape because they broke them.
• Twirl them around on a camp disco floor.
• Tell them how pretty or handsome they are.
• Walk around camp so late that moon sets and stay up long enough to watch the sun rise.
• Flip them 50 million times in the Black Sea surf until your arms feel like they’ll fall off.
• Laugh with them until your head falls off.
• Cry with them until your eyes fall out
• Squeeze them so tight and choling back tears when you say “paka” (goodbye).

[Sigh] What they care about is that someone would just say “Ya lublu tebia” (I love you) without a hitch; without condition.

THAT is what they care about.

June14, 2008

Julia has an infection. Periodically it makes her feel terrible. She was feeling so bad that night.

We had followed the kids from the nightly “disco” to their lodge. Late nights at Camp Satera were very special. This year we were able to spend all day, every day with our kids…all 36 of them. At the end of the day there was always a disco. They are sort of like a school dance every evening. Ukrainians are a very active nation. They don’t spend hours and hours watching TV or playing video games. The nightly gathering is a celebration of the passing of the day and a way to burn off what’s left of their energy.

Another nightly event was the blessing of spending the last minutes of each day in the kid’s rooms just talking about the day, listening to Chuck tell hunting stories, or just having a few more minutes of fun. One evening we were blessed with hearing a duet sung by Helen and her daughter.

As the kids made for their rooms our team would break up into small groups. Each group was usually a couple of Americans and a mentor to translate. Groups would circulate from room to room.

The best part was hearing their good night prayers. Sometimes they would request prayers, volunteer to pray, or sometimes we would just pray over them.

This was a particularly tough night because it was the last evening we would spend with them. Team members and mentors alike emerged from rooms into the hallway with tear-filled eyes. Each group dreaded their visit to the last room and then hated to leave it. In one room I visited, Ola was sobbing as I finished praying over the girls in her room. She had the covers over her head. I leaned over her and pulled the covers down to whisper a special prayer in her ear in my own language without translation. As soon as I had finished her crying began to cease.

As we came out of the dorm we made our way back to our lodging. I heard lots of laughter coming from the mentor’s room. I climbed the steps and opened the door to see our entire team along with Peter, Peter, Oksana, Maryna, and Julia (some of our older kids) all scattered around the room.

It was a midnight tea party!

Helen, Eugene and their 15 year old daughter Julia (not to be confused with the Julia mentioned above) had spirited the kids out of the dorm. The Strakhov’s had sprung the kids for a midnight tea party and a moonlight walk. You might not think that this is very special. But this is a very rare thing to stay up past curfew. Much less, go for a walk under the stars. This is something they almost NEVER get to do at the orphanage.

Helen invited Chuck and me to join them. We walked along the lane beside the sea. Oksana and Julia were on each of my arms as we strolled. Helen and Eugene were walking and chatting with 1st and 2nd Peter (as I called them). Maryna and Julia (Strakhov) were walking arm-in-arm with Chuck. It was a perfect night. Stars were shining brightly as they peeked between scattered puffy clouds and the moon was nearly finished waxing.

We walked by a cafe around midnight and it was still open. Helen talked the owner into a deal on some ice cream for Julia’s 15th birthday. Then they opened the dance floor for us.

I was watching the festivities when Julia slipped up beside me and slid her arms around me. We stood there for long moments. We began to rock slowly back and forth. I looked down at her to see that she had closed her eyes. She felt so bad. But she looked as though she was savoring the moment of comfort.

The party swelled around us and our moment was over. We rejoined the rest in celebration. On our stroll back to camp the kids had decided to stay up to watch the sun rise. Poor Eugene volunteered to stay up with tem.

The memory of just standing and holding Julia lingered as I fell asleep around 3:30 a.m. It is the one I cherish most. I have tucked that one away neatly and carefully to carry with me for the rest of my journey.

I’ve been back in Moscow for a week now and am just now getting around to writing something about the trip.  I also have fresh egg plant and zucchini mixed with onions and garlic cooking on the stove – filling the flat with a mouth watering smell.  Something I missed greatly while I was in the Ukraine - fresh veggies.

More then that though – I think I am just finally getting around to regestering everything that took place.  It’s been on the back burner for a very long time and I think it’s time to bring it to the front and move something else to the back.  I have to make sure not to burn anything – even myself.    (Which I do all the time when I cook!!) 

The trip was in a word: easilyhard.  I know I just made a new compound word – but it works for me.  Easy because I knew what I was getting into, for the most part.  Yes, my role was different, the setting, the kids, the team, etc… were all different.  But the goal was the same.  The mission was the same.  The love was the same.  It was hard for the same reasons as it was easy.

Getting to the Ukraine proved to be one of the biggest patience trials for me.  But keeping calm and determined the airlines eventually bent and I won.  Next came the adventure of the spider bite on my eye.  As my younger brother put it: “Sweet…”  Swelling for about half a week (The major swelling only lasted about 2/3 days) and not really sure what it was.  The numbness was really neat though. 

Then we move on to the kids.  Sitting here I see faces just filter past my minds eye of all the kids.  You can’t just pin-point one and talk about him/her without mentioning the others.  It’s too hard and too compliated to do so.  The football matches, frisbee, basketball, swimming, the beeeeach, disco, teaching, questions, bed time, tears, and love.  Love.  It seems to sum it all up but as I’ve told the kids in my group it’s a love I can’t explain to them, a love I can’t show them – it’s a love that comes from God, that can’t be explained in words.  How do you explain that someone loved you so much they died and came back for you, that He cries when you cry, laughs when you laugh, and knows the hairs on your head?  How do you explain that love – how do you show it to a bunch of kids who may not even know about real family love?  That my friends was truly the hard part for me.  I know of this love and I can’t affectively communicate it to others. 

However, my veggies are done and I need to switch burners again.  I leave soon for my work camp for all of July and come back to Moscow for only two weeks before I leave again.  And then my contract will be finished.  I need to focus my attention on my next step after Russia. 

Friday, June 20, 2008

Once again my heart is brutally wounded. For the third time in as many years I’ve allowed myself to be wounded irreparably. Once again I am pierced; cut to the soul. I’ve allowed this to happen before. There is nothing I can do to prevent it. There is nothing I can do to stop it.

There is nothing neat about the wound. It isn’t the neat and tidy incision of a surgeon’s scalpel. It is the ragged and rip-torn wound of a lion’s claws. I’ve allowed it to happen over and over again.

The first time was the worst. I barely survived. I felt my heart was being ripped out of my chest; still hot and beating. The next time I allowed it with trepidation. It took unearthly courage to face it again.

This time, I welcome it because of the source of the wounding. I bare my unguarded heart to God and let him mortally wound me so that his love can spill out of me onto the children of Simferopol Crimea. It is welcome pain.

This time is a different kind of pain. The scars of previous piercings are almost gone now. They are but red and jagged lines. My first two wounds seemed never to heal because I never knew what happened to the children we left behind. Only God knows. So I am still and waiting; praying for healing.

This time, our team mentors took the brunt of the brutal wounds to the heart; their first wounding. I know mine will heal more quickly because I am anxious for the next brutal slash.

Meanwhile, I pray for God to heal the broken, crushed and barely-beating hearts of our mentors. I remember my first pain. The images of each child flash through my mind as I run my fingers across the thin contours of the matted and hardened flesh. The sting and burn are as welcome and comfortable as a favorite old overcoat.

Now, I wait patiently for my heart to be broken, crushed and ripped out again. It is such a joyful and excruciating pain.

6/18/08

Hi everyone. I know we intended to use the blog during our trip but our team creedo is “Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be bent out of shape”. We actually had no access to internet and little phone access. So instead, we’ll use the blog for post trip story-telling.

We arrived Alushta, Crimea on June 4 and stayed through June 15. Travel for the US team members was relatively uneventful. Although we met up with one of last year’s mentors, Galina Simeletko in Kiev. What an angel. She came out to help us through the terminal. Elizabeth on the other hand had headaches. SHe flew from Moscow (where she lives and teaches English). Aeroflot sent her to the wrong gate and she missed her flight. After admitting their mistake they got her on a late night flight. She arrived at 1 a.m. the next day and joined us in Alushta around 7 a.m.

The kids arrived the next day. It’s strange looking back on that day anmd comparing it to the last day. When they arrived the were all strange kids. Some very shy. We all mingled anmong them and introduced ourselves and asked their names (Kak tibia zavoot [phonetically]= what is your name).

The last day we’d all come to love them as our own children or brothers and sisters. We cried, choked back tears, hugged for dear life. Goodbye’s are always so hard. Those of us who have been know that at the trip’s end our hearts wil be pierced, crushed and smashed into pieces. I love those kids like my own. I’ve been back only a day and I miss them so much.

Our mentors…what amazing young women. Nastya, Anya, Vika , and Julia. Vika (19) and Julia (15) are not much older than the children themselves. These selfless young women have already begun to consider dedicating themselves to helping these children. They weren’t prepared for the ensuing heartbreak. However, Those of us who have done this before know that our sadness will someday be turned to joy. We know what awaits them. We all pray that the piercing wounds of grief and sadness will be healed in time. We know that the scars that remain will fade to a small blemish and forever remind them of the joyful heartbreak they will soon long for.

More later.

-jb

I have given you authority to …overcome all the power of the enemy.
Luke 10:19
Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.
1 Peter 5:8
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.
Ephesians 6:10-11

I’ve been thinking back over the last several months to January. Looking back at how this team began to form. I think something good; no something great is going to happen this summer. God knows it. The seeds of Christ will be planted into the hearts of many children. Many prisoners will be set free becasue of one deed. Something marvelous. Something miraculous. Something uncontainable.

The enemy knows it too. He opposes us. How do we stand against such an enemy?

Like always teams are slow to form. Funding is always slow to come it. I expect that. I expect the usual struggles coordinating a group of people. Especcially when they don’t always live in the same place. Most of us live in TN. Chuck’s in CO. “Z” is in Moscow. The other half of the team (our Ukrainian mentors) hadn’t even been identified then. So, in order to get at least the American side of the team in the same room we use technologies available to us like Skype. But that means struggles with the technologies themselves. Not to mention user error.

Almost as soon as the team was formed the attacks began. Sickness among the team. Sickness among the team’s families. Then there were the personal, mental and emotional attacks not just on the team; but attacks on the families of the team. Stresses from work. Stresses of school. Stresses from graduating. Stresses from life and living day to day.

We seemed to have come through those either as a team or with the help and prayer from family and friends. Then the enemy had another strategy. Attack the very children and ministry team we are going to support. First, news of the orphanages being closed; one of them permanently and the other for the summer. This meant no access to the children. The orphans from the village orpahange would be dispersed permanently to other orphanages throughout Ukraine. The children at Central orphanage would be dispersed throughout the country at camps for the summer.

We prayed and prayed hard.

Then news came that the enemy was once more repelled, at least somewhat. The children from the village orphanage would not be dispersed and the orphange would not be closed for at least the remainder of the school year.

However, the Central Orphanage will close. So the seeds of Christ we carry with us will not be sewn into their hearts. So, we’ll pray and pray hard for those children that they will not be passed over.

Last year we met with bureaucratic opposition. Inspectors came into every camp where WWYC teams were present. We were fortunate. The orphans we taught for a week left to go home with the seeds of the kingdom planted within their hearts. However, the relationship with our camp director disintegrated. We left there to take up residence at a camp nearby. We were welcomed and cared for and made new friends. We discovered when we returned home that all the other teams were opposed and many were forced to leave camps.

I pray that we are prepared; that we know our enemy; that God will grant us foresight and foreknowledge to see the looming forces of dakness like storm clouds stacked against us. 

When he is through preparing us; when He has made us ready; when He has outfitted us with every weapon; when we know our armor and are ready to stand firm…

…bring it.

Bring it on! Let the lightning flash, let the thunder roll, let the storm winds blow
Bring it on! Let the trouble come, let it make me fall on the One who’s strong
Bring it on! Let the lightning flash, let the thunder roll, let the storm winds blow
Bring it on! Let me be made weak so I’ll know the strength of the One who’s strong
Bring it on.

“Bring It On”, Steven Curtis Chapman

 -Joel