A Rare Christening and a Mission
Today, when my American friends are celebrating their freedom and independence I thought I would write about my latest journey to Ukraine, where my friends there are fighting so hard for their freedom
Now-a-days it’s a long, long way to Kyiv from London. It used to be a sharp 40 minutes by plane. It now takes two days. I've done this journey a few times, and it’s still a strange feeling, walking across that border, knowing you are leaving safety and freedom behind.
This trip was a little diffrernt. I was going to a christening. I had been invited to be the Godmother to Zachary. Vitaly and his wife, Olga, have become close friends. I think war does that, it fast tracks friendships. Amory came with me, this was his second trip to Ukraine since the invasion.
The christening took place in the historic Kiev Pechersk Lavra, a monastery founded around 1050. Now a cluster of gold doomed churches and a cathedral built on holy ground above the Dnipro river. Below lies a labyrinth of caves and passages filled with icons, crypts and chapels brimming with incense and flickering candles and the relics of saints who would undoubtedly be dismayed at the war raging above them.
Being an Christian Orthodox service everything had deep meaning; anointment with blessed oil, submerging in the Baptismal Font three times for the birth, death and resurrection, locks of hair cut to form the shape of a cross, symbolizing obedience and sacrifice, and finally the Priest blowing on his little head to drive away evil spirits.
Following the service we went for lunch, gathering in an outside restaurant, beside a reflecting pool where swans glided past, music played and friends laughed. One could almost forget this was a country under attack.
After a few hours, guests began making toasts, family wandered in and out, huge amounts of assorted cold food was served. I imagined a christening cake was about to arrive. “In about 40 minutes” Vitaly said “the hot food will begin.”
Ukrainian christening lunches, I know now, stretch way past dinner, in fact all the way past midnight. The man next to me explained “if your christening cake is cut, served and eaten its been a bad christening. If its a good christening the cake is brought out but everyone is too drunk, too happy, too distracted to cut and eat it.”
We spent Sunday in Kyiv, wandering around other churches, lighting candles, saying silent prayers. The city was more awake than I had seen it in the past two years, brunch on a rooftop, supper in the bustling food halls. Amory’s eyes wide with excitement. So many beautiful women in one city.
But the dark shadow of war was every where, men in wheel chairs legs missing, sirens shrieking, schools, offices and daily life still disrupted with fear. One evening we saw police stopping cars “What are they looking for?” I asked naively. Men, to send to the front line, was the answer. I could not imagine it, my boys being dragged from a car, and sent off. I felt quite sick.
On Monday morning, Michael Capponi, founder of Global Empowerment Mission asked me to sit with him during the team meeting in the GEM HQ. He felt it was important that the leaders of the front line territories should know that an executive board member was here with them for the week.
This was my sixth visit working with the Ukrainian team. Every trip leaves me even more impressed. The Farm-to-Frontline program, the Window Repair program and of course the extraordinary delivery of around 48,000 family kits being distributed WEEKLY.
At this meeting there was deeper discussion around the intensified drone action. The Russians had counter-attacked in two directions and were pushing the now under-equipped and exhausted Ukrainian forces back. Attacks on civilian targets continue every day, universities, schools, hospitals, bus shelters, town halls, shopping malls.
They claim innocent lives and those of their rescuers through their ‘double tap’ targeting, sending in more bombs just as the firefighters and paramedics arrive.
Additional sophisticated security for the GEM team was now very much needed.
We left the meeting feeling a little quiet as we loaded up the trucks to head out East. But it wasn’t long before Vitaly had us laughing again. “Roll your legs and bring your smiles” he said indicating for us to jump in and get going.
The following days were hairy. The larger distributions where several hundred people gather are now timed….in and out in under 45 minutes, any longer and everyone is at risk of those drones. The smaller distributions have always been quick but in the past there was military escorting the sprinter vans in and out. Now there is more risk having an escort than not. Of course our teams are given the latest intel, if one district is heavily under fire, plans change, locations are reworked, the safety of the team comes above anything. However these brave guys are putting themselves at risk every time they head out east, every time they make a drop off, every time they hand a box of aid out.
After a week we head back to Kyiv with Vitaly. Amory and I are exhausted. Not just because you don't sleep terribly well and are under the constant strain of wondering how the day might end but most especially because of the emotional journey of being amongst people who’s lives have been stolen from them.
As we leave Zaporizhzhia and the last of the bloc posts we pass two white trucks with distinctive green symbols on the side. “Those are the fridges” said Vitaly softly “carrying out the bodies of our boys, from the front line”
Olga and Zachary came to say goodbye at the train station. I kissed the top of my Godson’s soft head. He smelt delicious. He slept peacefully, completely unaware that his country was fighting for their freedom, for his freedom, for his independence.
Happy 4th July.
Beautifully written. I fear that if Trump wins all aid will stop to Ukraine. We need to support politicians that support Ukraine.
India, Your Ukraine posts are always so moving but this one especially touched me. It’s a reminder of how life goes on, regardless of whether the world around us is in chaos, and it’s a confirmation of how blessed we are, how fragile life is and how easily it can turn. But most of all, you are an example of service to others. I admire the way you challenge yourself. You’re doing more than stepping outside your comfort zone, which is often how service to others feels to many of us. You’re risking everything to help others and that is the greatest service of all.