To the evenings without heat and mornings without water. To the showers that ended in the middle and scratchy blue crepe that doubled as toilet paper.

To the rough and long drives from Myaki to Odessa, and the unreliable but wonderful poconetcom. To the red jeep, with conspicuous Texas license plates, that carried us across Soviet lands.

To the first praying students of the MJBI that inspired our faith and set our hearts on fire. To the church that sent us across the sea and never left or forgot us.

To the Soviet Jews that secretly yearned to know God through years of atheism and communism.

To the Soviet Jews that found Him in the express image of Yeshua, the long awaited Messiah.

To the buckets of salvation that sloshed and overflowed with joy when the Ukrainians heard the Word preached in their public squares for the first time, “Believe on the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved.”

To the thousands of Jews that ran to the altars, weeping and confessing their sins, begging for life filled with joy. To the miracles of rebirth.

To the grass that sprung up and flowers that bloomed upon the scorched earth after the fall of communism.

To the Holocaust survivors that severed all hope to hope again and found the unfailing love of Yeshua and yearned for the advance of heaven with new eyes.

To the people that brought us Oreo cookies, gold fish crackers, hugs, and courage.

To the stout-hearty Ukrainians that worked hard, loved deeply, and understood the true meaning of hospitality.

To the bowls brimming with borchst and cups of chai sipped for the sake of comfort and the ancient nourishment of the Motherland.

To the Russian tea glasses, that have become our crucible trophies, that shine from our kitchen cupboards in Texas. The ones that we bought in Kiev and tenderly carried home in our suitcases, packed safely with all our worldly belongings entire.

To the stalwart Ukrainians whose faith remains white-hot even during a bloody, insane war. To the brave Ukrainian church shining in the darkness. You are the true crucible trophies whose crowns are held in the pierced hands of the Lamb.

Bonnie Saul Wilks