Sometimes, I’m not needed at the hospital (with the babies). If it happens to be a Friday, instead I may go with a group to feed the homeless. It’s usually a small group, that splits into teams of two and three. We go downtown with sandwiches, fruit and tea.

On my last such outing, I was surprised to have Zholt in my group. Zholt is a gypsy who grew up in the Uzhgorod orphanage (western border) where we run our camp each year. He was ‘adopted’ by German missionaries when he was too old to live at the orphanage anymore. Zholt was taking a break in Kyiv and decided to join us.

Talking to Zholt is fun because we don’t share a common language, but several uncommon ones. His mother tongue is Transcarpathian and mine is English. But we both can speak various amounts of German, Russian, and Ukrainian. (I can count all my Ukrainian words on my digits without removing my shoes and socks) So a simple sentence with Zholt may be a blending of two languages, sometimes three. The grammar would best be expressed as “Tarzan-like.” But we can still talk about ministry, music, family, social customs. When the words aren’t clear, we switch to another language, and switch again until we’re pretty sure the other person understood. And if you think that’s a weird dynamic, you should’ve seen us lead worship together.

Our team that days was Zholt, another American named Bill, and myself. Normally we just feed people. But on the way, Zholt stopped at the pharmacy to get some medical stuff. He replenished a supply of rubber gloves, gauze wrap, the mysterious green stuff (it’s a Ukrainian version of iodine? Hydrogen peroxide? Miracle Whip?) Bill carried the food, and tea supplies. I carried the dispenser of hot tea.

It’s important to have a good Russian speaker when feeding the hungry of Kyiv. That was Zholt this time. My normal interactions are “Hochesh chi?” (Do you want tea?) “Chorni? Zeloni? ili Frukti?” (black, green, or fruit?) “Saxar, skolko?” (sugar? How many?) I know food vocabulary, for survival purposes. But I’m a “supporter” in this ministry, not a leader. I do try to understand the conversation I can.

Along with food, Zholt began tending the wounds of the homeless. After he changed the one man’s dressing, a crowd of street people began to develop. They were more interested in treatment than food. Without getting graphic, I’ll just say that some of these guys (they were all men) were heading well into infections. They’re bodies and wounds were filthy. But Zholt was happily cleaning their arms, inside and outside, while sharing in Russian, the message of God’s love.

In the background, I quietly turned to Bill, “Man, I can see how God put different gifts in different people. I’m getting sick just watching what Zholt is doing. I’d take the orphanage on the worst day rathen than that.” It was too much for me, on a gross out level, so I busied myself handing out tea and sammiches. The hospital is troubling sometimes. But at least there’s really no blood and gore in my work.

At the end of the day, Zholt smiled good-naturedly and said, “Oh, this. This almost make me sick. (he pantomimed a little hurl to explain what he meant) It was very difficult to me.” Then I realized that Zholt and I were of the same mind. The only difference between us was that he actually put on the gloves and did the work. It wasn’t a case of “I enjoy this,” or “I’m gifted in this.” It was because these guys needed care, and he did it.

Nobody told Zholt to “fix up” the homeless guys. “Normal” is just bringing food. But Zholt, he’s pretty special. Me, I’ve still got a long way to go.

¶ 10:56 AM //

Here is where I attempted to light the cannon using the power of pantomime. And it might work, as the cannonballs are merely gray balloons stacked in a cannonball-like fashion.

¶ 7:30 AM //

These boys enjoyed the descent into madness that we called Pirate Night. I was told by one girl, "My brother isn't normally allowed to play with guns. But tonight... it's okay."

¶ 7:28 AM //

Laura made this yummy pirate cake. Notice the little YWAM symbol in the front. This proves that it's the good guys' ship. The photographer apparently didn't notice that the captain has fallen over. Probably overwhelmed by the chocolatey goodness.

¶ 7:25 AM //

¶ 7:23 AM //

The end of the night leaves the dastardly Black Sea Pirates swimming in the canal.

¶ 7:20 AM //

September 19th is “International Talk Like a Pirate Day.” I thought I’d remind you because it doesn’t get the publicity of Valentine’s Day and Halloween but it’s equally or more important.
We did our part to spread the joy of piracy here because I was asked to lead a Back to School party for the missionary kids here in YWAM Kyiv. I decided immediately on a Pirate Night. Here’s why.

Our base is actually a boat on the river. (Before we took possession it was kind of a restaurant/hotel of ill repute.) It’s pretty cool, ‘cuz when the big boats go by, we can feel the Venetsia move with the waves. So I had this idea. What if during the Back to School Party, our boat was actually invaded by pirates? The kids would never forget that.

The night was based on the verse, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21) We had a treasure chest full of school supplies and chocolate coins for the kids who came. I announced that Pirate Night was a dress up event, so we were asking that the adults come dressed like pirates.

We went all out for the evening. We made a bunch of paper mache props, a cannon, ship’s helm, octopus, an anchor. But what made the evening really great, was nearly everyone dressed up for the occasion. There may have been fifty adults and children in pirate attire. Even the people not normally involved in kids ministry got into the fun.

Then at some point, a rowboat full of pirates came with the intention of taking our treasure away. We explained (Tonya the interpreter and I) that we should keep our treasure in heaven, where thieves can’t steal it and rust can’t destroy it. I offered to let them have a share if they learned the memory verse.

The pirates hated to read or study (it was a Back to School party after all) and decided they wouldn’t learn the verse, but take the treasure, just the same. So the kids bravely fought them off with their balloon swords and we threw the bad ole pirates overboard. I wasn’t sure who had more fun, the kids or the adults.

At the end, we ate piratey food. Hot dog octopi and baked potato boats. Laura even made a pirate cake (ship-shape).

One of the mom’s came to me afterwards in appreciation. In mostly Russian she told me that her son Nikita kept talking about what a fun, exciting night it was. Another mom told me that her daughter said it was the best family night ever because the kids and adults were all having fun together. The kids on the boat were playing pirates for several days afterwards. This kind of feedback that makes all the work worth it.

Many of the missionaries here go to churches without a Sunday School or children’s program. So kids ministry for the missionaries is really important to our base. It’s important that we don’t just bring the gospel to the world, but that our own kids have a strong foundation in the Word of God. It bears repeating. Where our treasure is, our heart will be also. So we need to invest our greatest treasure into our children.

¶ 5:36 AM //