There were so many moments where we saw God moving in powerful ways. I remember one time in a bomb shelter. After days of darkness, the lights flickered back on as we were singing a song about hope. Some of the mothers had tears in their eyes. It felt like God was reminding us that His light is always near, even in the hardest times.
Walking through downtown Kherson was surreal. The streets were quiet, and you could see how much the city had been through. It was hard to take in, but we felt peace knowing God was with us. Volunteers like us were at risk, but we trusted God to guide us.
We walked through the covered areas downtown so the drones wouldn’t see us. It sounds intense, but at the time, it just felt like something we had to do. The woman guiding us to the shelters invited us to a small cafe she knew was still running. She wanted to welcome us to her town with a warm meal. Despite having no electricity, they cooked us hot chicken and potatoes. It was humbling because we came to serve, but they showed us such kindness by serving us instead.
The woman shared her struggles with us, and it was heartbreaking to hear. She spends her time going from place to place, sharing about God. She told us how so many people are praying and turning to Christ because they don’t know where else to go.
At the second shelter, we put on a program. Everything felt a little tense and rushed, and it was cold and dim. But as we sang, the lights came back on after three days. It wasn’t some huge dramatic moment; it was just a quiet reminder that even in such hard circumstances, there is hope. Winter without electricity is tough—no warm food, no heat, no light. It’s not like when the power goes out at home and it feels like an adventure. For them, it’s an ongoing struggle.
We shared time with people who live there. The shelter we were in used to be a library, and they told us it had been a hideout for Russian soldiers. Standing in that same space, sharing the gospel, felt significant.
One of the moments that stuck with me most was during a convoy to the frontlines. It wasn’t safe, but we knew God had a purpose for us being there. Bombs were going off in the distance, but we kept moving, helping in shelters. Outside, kids were playing soccer. It was hard to see how normal this had become for them.
We met some incredible people. One of them was a Catholic priest who was out there every single day, helping and serving others with so much love. His dedication reminded us what it really means to serve selflessly.
There are so many stories to tell—our team doing outreach in Mykolaiv, the drive to Kherson, unloading aid close to the Russian army, and hearing firsthand what people in these cities have been through. But what stands out most is how, even in such difficult circumstances, God is moving. People are turning to Him and finding hope.
Even when we had no power, working in the dark, we kept going. Every small step forward felt like a reminder of God’s faithfulness. We came to serve, and we left knowing that God’s presence is the one thing you can truly count on, no matter what’s happening around you.
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