We had an unforgettable week, making a new friend and developing a meaningful connection with Ukraine, as we helped host a group visiting from Kyiv. I am humbled being around people with so much courage and conviction. They face monumental challenges and yet seem undeterred in their determination to reform the child welfare program in their county. That’s actually not completely accurate: they’re not simply reforming a system; they are working to build infrastructure that doesn’t exist, all the while amid drones dropping bombs and working with only two hours of electricity a day.
Let me back up. My friend, Jenny, works for Kidsave, an international organization that works to place children in permanent homes. They do a lot of work in Ukraine, and nine Ukrainians came here for 10 days to learn about our child welfare system and to meet with members of Congress to garner support for Ukraine. We, along with a handful of others, hosted a delegate for a week.
Our guest was Alona, a determined, kind-hearted, spirited, 34-year-old from Kyiv. She was the youngest and most fluent in English among the group and seemed to be the unofficial boss. She only began learning English about eight years ago, and she now even understands many of the idioms we use. Each time I used one, I checked with her to see if she understood, and she almost always did. She peppered me with questions about teaching and being a mandated reporter of suspected child abuse, how our schools are structured, the difference between private and public. She became fast friends with our prickly yet endearing cat, Ricky. She looked forward to coming home every day after meetings, touring the city, and shopping to pet Ricky and unwind with us.
The week didn’t go as planned, due to the snow and ice. Many of their meetings were moved to Zoom, their lunches and dinners downtown cancelled or shifted, and they were left meeting with lower level staffers in place of members of Congress on more than one occasion. All our snow days, however, allowed me to be the host I wanted to be. Instead of putting her coffee in a thermos and texting her reminders or pointers on how to navigate the kitchen as I left for work, I was able to make her coffee when she emerged every morning from the basement and chat with her before she began her day. I was able to greet her in the evenings and sit in the hot tub with her without rushing off to bed by 9:30, as I do on work nights.
We gathered throughout the week for potlucks big and small, shifted plans, picked them up from metro stations, and filled in for Jenny when her husband had to have emergency gall bladder surgery. We played board games together, listened to their stories, and answered their unending stream of questions. I found myself tearing up often as their departure date loomed. They were all heading back to a country under ruthless attack with no end in sight. Alona texted me early this morning to say she made it home safely and was using her two hours of electricity to do laundry and get settled before catching up on sleep.
This past year has been horrifying in many ways here, as I witness the damage being done to our democracy and our relationships worldwide, and most of all, the terror being inflicted upon many of our citizens. I have often found myself “depression adjacent,” as I darkly joked with a friend. Yet, we are not under attack. We have heated and lit homes. I am confident that if I suspect a child is being mistreated, I can take steps to help that child. Their drive has inspired me to keep my eyes forward and chin up.
My Corner of the Village 