Feb 22, 20236 min read

it's been a year

And still they fight - for Ukraine and for their lives,

but for you and for me, too.

All images owned by Alina Tyulyu via Instagram

She wrapped her arms around my mom, loudly smacking her cheeks with exuberance. My dad was next. And then my parents introduced me, their eldest daughter.

She shrieked in delight, clapping her hands. Before I could blink, I was pressed against her bosom in a hug tighter than anything I’d ever known. Her face pressed against mine as she planted affectionate kisses on my cheeks. Turning an unsteady me loose, she rapid-fired Ukrainian to her husband.

This is Alauda.

If we were to play a word association game, and you told me, “Ukraine,” I would smile and say, “hug” because when I think of Ukraine and the Ukrainian people, I think of Alauda.

When Russian President Vladimir Putin ordered tens of thousands of Russian troops to invade Ukraine on February 24, 2022, he expected to conquer the capital, Kyiv, within two days.

It has been 365 days, Mr. Putin.

When the White House released their intelligence estimates, they believed Ukraine would maintain control of Kyiv for 6 weeks against the powers of Russia.

It has been 52 weeks, President Biden.

Kyiv still stands.

Ukraine is still free.

And still, the men and women and children of Ukraine are not finished.

Stand firm, President Zelensky!

When my parents were in Ukraine, they stayed mainly in the city of Kam’yenka (kah-men-ka), and they lived with an older woman named Vera. Each night, as my parents staggered to her door, feet sore and hearts weary from a full day, Vera would gesture to them – sit on the doorstep. Kneeling before each of these strangers who did not speak her language, Vera would take their feet in her hands, and wash them.

To this day, my mom recalls her time with Vera while tears pool in her eyes. “We loved her profusely. She was the salt of the earth. She worked hard, loved hard, and had a hard life. But she was - she would remind you of the woman who gave all in the Bible. She didn’t have much, but she gave it all.”

There was one morning where Vera came running to wake up my parents. “Gosh, it was early!” my mom recalls. “I swear she never slept!” In her hand, she held an egg. Vera’s chicken had laid a singular egg. “We never did understand the whole thing, but that egg was a big deal,” my mom said. “She was thrilled to cook that egg and serve it to your dad.”

I am reminded of Jesus speaking about a widow in the Bible. “Truly I tell you, all the others gave what they’ll never miss; she gave extravagantly what she couldn’t afford—she gave her all.”

I see Vera’s legacy in the Ukrainian people of today. In the 21,293 civilian casualties and in the 100,000 military causalities, I see Vera.

I see Vera in the actions of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky – in the ways he has refused to abandon his country and his people, even at great personal risk; in the ways he has fought for peace and served alongside the Ukrainian people; in the ways he orients his life around the country he has pledged to serve.

I see Vera living on in the hearts of those who bear arms for Ukraine. The Ukrainian men and women who volunteered their lives to defend their culture, their language, their country, their people. The volunteers who have arrived from other countries – each warrior without hesitation, putting their life on hold and at risk to serve and defend Freedom.

My mom commented that the Ukrainian people “were a humble people, a generous people. And just truly genuine. They had nothing but gave everything. Really selfless.” This is who they are.

It calls to mind another story my parents tell. They moved to a teeny tiny little village, and as they arrived on their first night, the selo was vibrant with excitement, anticipation, and hope. The village pig was in labor!

A woman, Lidiya, explained that each piglet went to a different family. The bigger the sow’s litter, the farther the wealth spread. For reference, the average litter is seven piglets. This sow had 13!!!

“We were up all night with this pig,” my mom said. “The whole village was involved, praising God more with each birth. It was a big deal!”

Thirteen families benefitted from one family’s pig.

“When we got back to America, I remember thinking, we think we’ve got it all together and figured out, but we’ve got nothing,” my mom reminisced. “They do life together. Their relationships are so rich, and it just felt like they had wealth that went beyond a bank account.”

And this past year has revealed that depth.

Community members wait together to receive humanitarian aid.

I’ve spent a majority of this past year impressed, astounded, and humbled by President Zelensky. This man is not only protecting his country, he is fiercely guarding the rest of the free world, too.

I’ve heard many Americans bemoan the aid we are sending to Ukraine. “Ukraine is corrupt, just asking for money and weapons,” they say. “We need to quit giving them money.” “We should send troops,” they say. “Our taxpayer dollars already pay for that.”

Oh, how short-sighted!

The moment we send United States Military troops to Ukraine is the moment World War III begins.

Welcome to the complexities of international law.

“World War I claimed millions of lives,” Zelensky said. “World War II claimed tens of millions of them. There will be no World War III. It is not a trilogy: Ukraine will stop the Russian aggression on our land.”

In our happy, little, safe American bubble, it is easy to believe this war has nothing to do with us.

Oh, how wrong we are!

This war has everything to do with us.

We are depending on Ukraine. We are relying on Ukraine. We need Ukraine.

Ukraine is the sow, and their resistance, the piglets. Their efforts spread the wealth. Their fight preserves freedom. Their objection to tyranny emboldens the rest of the world to stand for what is right. Their defiance has quickly become a pillar of the free world.

And that free world encompasses us.

I asked my mom what she remembers Ukraine feeling like. One of the things she mentioned was the uncertainty. “Their grocery store had one loaf of bread and six cans of food. That was it. The power was turned off and on whenever [the authorities] wanted. There was no control over anything. There was this uncertain feeling where nothing was constant or consistent or reliable.”

This is Ukraine – then and now. And both times, under assault by the terrorist state of Russia.

And while I cannot control what is happening in Ukraine, I can control my response. I can be constant in my advocacy. I can be consistent in my empathy. I can be reliable in my support.

We can be constant and consistent and reliable. You and me. We can do that.

If over 16,500 ordinary Russian citizens risk imprisonment to protest the actions of their government in defense of Ukraine, why should we look away?

We should not! Ukraine fights for us, too.

As they tire of fighting and we tire of hearing about it,

we can together take a breath and keep going. As they grow weary of doing and we grow weary of paying attention,

we can together lean in. As they falter and fall back and we falter and fall back,

we can together choose to take another step.

“The war in Ukraine is not local,” Instagram account hear.ukraine writes. “It may define the world your kids are going to live in.” In the caption, they continue, “[We fight] for the right to be Ukrainian. For the right to speak the language of our own and of our ancestors. For every living human.”

This war matters to us, and if you think it doesn’t, I think you have some work to do.

“One night while we were in Kam’yenka, this little old man started singing in Ukrainian. As we listened, we realized it was ‘How Great Thou Art,’” my mom tells me. “So we began singing it with him, in English. Many of our interpreters were Russian or spoke Russian, and they began singing it in Russian. And we were all singing the same thing while tears rolled down our faces.”

at the name of Jesus every knee will bow— in heaven and on earth and under the earth— and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.