A quick introduction to this trip and request for prayer.

Things have gotten much worse.

The plan, as usual, was to return to our regular base and then move to our base further east where we would serve in outlying villages near the frontline.

We’ll not be going to this area after all. The city’s been bombed and and the villages further east have all been evacuated.

I can see the faces of the people I met there last year and the year before. I can see the man who I visited in his home. And that first visit to the outskirts of Mykoliav and the woman for whom we found a walker. I can see the woman who so lovingly cared for us at our base in the east and fed us before we went to the villages and all the women who prepared our meals at each village and doted upon us and gave us so much, so much…Theirs was an extreme and miraculous grace which humbled and amazed me. I will miss not seeing them. I so longed to see them again and hoped they would be rebuilding their homes and villages by now.

Two days ago as our team began its trek toward Ukraine from various parts of the U.S., our base city was bombed, and badly. Because of that, our friends there have told us not to come. We may be able to get in at this time but there’s no guarantee we’ll be allowed back out. If they lock down the city like they’ve done elsewhere, we could get stuck.

Men, ages 16 to now 65 (it was 18-60 last year) are now being literally taken from the streets and sent to the frontlines to fight.

Sixteen years old. Sixty-five years old. I cannot wrap my head around this.

Women are not being taken from the streets, but they are now being drafted to fight. I’m not sure of the age range. Maybe not too many. They say next year both men and women will be subject to a general draft. Maybe the war will be over before that.

Men in these age ranges are not allowed to leave the country. Women in healthcare are not allowed to leave the country. There are reports that if men do leave, they will lose their Ukrainian citizenship.

This is just a bit of the information I’ve learned since arriving in Chișinău last night.

Our team’s all together now. The flights were difficult and tiring with most of us having two layovers to get here. That’s three walks through customs (including Moldova) in a day. We have three intrerpreters, two from the U.S. including a nurse practitioner who will join me in seeing patients, and one from Moldova whose wife interpreted for us on my first trip to Ukraine in 2022. We have a whip-smart RN with us as well, and an LPN who is a former Marine truck mechanic. Two female badasses. We have a retired firefighter and Aniel as our driver and networker who determines where we can now serve, and Bob as our lead. It’s a really good team.

We’re leaving shortly and have adjusted. As our firefighter teammate says, we’re “maintaining a rigid state of flexibility.” (I just love that.) It looks like we’ll be making a quick trip into our base city after all. We’ve some supplies there we really could use as we make our way to the safer southwest corner of the country, so we’ll do a quick in and out and head south. It’ll be a long day. Aniel’s contacts in this region, to where many evacuees have escaped, have been setting up housing and have some refugee accommodations in which we can stay. From there we will go to the people and help as we can, to the people whose lives have been completely upended, who’ve been displaced from their homes, who have a level of uncertainty not close to anything I have ever faced, or likely will ever face. It is immeasurable uncertainty. Unquantifiable. It probably feels unceasing. Perpetual.

We won’t get to see the Black Sea again, unfortunately. Even if we couldn’t put our feet in it because of all the underwater mines, it was still so very beautiful to see. But we’ll see some of the Danube River, Aniel says. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Danube (maybe overhead in a plane?) and thought my first impressions of it might be on a dreamed-for river cruise somewhere north, certainly not in war-torn Ukraine.

And, the thought which hits me and causes the tears to fall as I quickly finish this missive, is that I didn’t buy enough coloring books and crayons because I didn’t anticipate seeing many children. Where we were last year and the year before, there were predominantly older people who couldn't leave their home towns. (I wonder what has happened to them now…) Instead, we’ll now be in refugee/evacuee camps and, unfortunately (oh, man, Renate, get a grip, put the tears away, there’ll be time for that later), the displaced will include a lot of children. I don’t think I have near enough coloring books.

I doubt much communication will be possible. I’ll try as I’m able to send off quick accounts. In the meantime, please pray for the people, and for our team, and please share this quick note and request prayer for this country. The level of suffering is much worse than I anticipated. I thought, oh, how I thought, it would be better this trip.

I wasn’t counting on being safer this trip. I thought we’d head back to the people directly under fire. That’s where I longed to be. But, they’re gone from the war zone. Safer, sure, but without their daily lives and with futures in limbo.

This bloody war needs to end.

Please pray. Pray we’ll make it across the border without a hitch. Pray our quick foray into Odesa goes well (and I get to see my friends there even if just for a quick hug and to give one the magnesium she requested). Pray that the people we serve in the south receive great value from us and that we love them well.

And, please pray, and don’t stop, hammer away relentlessly at the doors of heaven, until this accursed war is over.

I'll report back as soon as I can.

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