This afternoon, I am flying from Rzeszow to Warsaw and then to Newark Airport. Maybe, I'll run into President Biden in Warsaw and he'll give me a lift in Air Force One.  Both of us, President Biden and I tasted our first Polish pizza, a treat for the Sisters and the Ukrainians.  Pizza is very popular all over the world including Poland.  We didn't know how much to order, but Sister Margaret thought we should order extra-large.  We laughed and laughed when the pizza was so huge that it couldn't fit in the oven.  See the picture below.  

 In Brigantine where I teach seniors, my watercolor classes painted sunflowers as they sent thought and prayers to the people of the Ukraine.  One of my students asked if I could give his painting to one of the Ukrainian families I would meet.  You can see the picture below.

I need to finish packing, but I appreciate you accompanying me on this journey.  I feel as if we were in this together and it supported me through the more challenging times.  Thank you again and continue to pray for the people of the Ukraine.  God's blessings on all you are doing and being this day!

Have you ever played the "telephone"game where one person tells the story and then the next person tells the next, etc.  Yesterday, five of us played an unintentional form of the game.  As I'm walking through the bedroom area, an elderly Ukrainian woman grabs my hand and begins to pour out her anxiety.  Feeling inadequate and frustrated, I don't understand a word because it was in Ukrainian.  Sister Margaret who is standing next to me only speaks Polish and two young women who happened to walk by speak Ukrainian and English.  Yes, you guessed it:  the woman shared her angst in Ukrainian to the two women.  They relayed it to me in English and I translated into Polish.  Every so often, my English is very helpful because the younger Ukrainians know English, but do not speak Polish.  Another surprising way God has called me into ministry.

She was alone and did not know where to go.  Totally distraught and helpless, her fear written on her face.  Sister Margaret offered her a room in one of their convents and she lit up with joy!  She asked if there would be a job available for her, but no one knows.  Later, I slipped into her room to give her a donation to help her along the way.  Proudly, she said no that she would earn her own keep and God would provide.  

So many emotions are swirling around in my heart.  Tomorrow, I fly home to the States, and I bring so much with me to unpack and I don't mean my suitcase.  All these powerful encounters have carved out my heart to hold more compassion and love that I knew I was capable of.  I feel it's time for me to return, but I do so with gratitude and sadness.  I feel one with these Sisters who have welcomed me into their home as well as their hearts. The Sisters dressed in long blue habits, and I certainly look different from each other, but the Mission of Jesus unites us and we are of one mind and one heart.  

Yes, there is great sadness because there is so much more to do. Due to greater fear and their endurance being worn away by the bombing, the number of refugees is increasing again.  We saw a bit of a lull in the past few days.  The faces of the volunteers reveal a tiredness, but they continue to offer kindness and help. Polish soldiers are now occupying the room with cots reserved for mothers and children.  As I was praying this morning, several maxims, which are brief sayings written by our founder, gave me great consolation!  I share this translation with you:

Maxim 14. God's free gift of love supports your life at every moment. Rely on it.

Maxim 31.In times of trouble, trust firmly that you are an instrument of God's dream.

Maxim 98:  Suffering touches everyone. Unite yours to God and to all who suffer.

Maxim 37:  Do the best you can and then let go.

Good News!  As families leave, we hope and pray that they will find a safe refuge wherever they head on their journeys.  Yesterday, Sister Dorota, the superior, heard from one of our families who resettled in a small village in Poland, and we were overjoyed. Through the kindness of their host, they are living in a small home and the grandmother found a job cleaning someone's home. I know that we refer to "Polish clean" in the United States, but it is true at least in this convent. The Sisters are always cleaning and the refugees pitch in and help.  Maybe, it's a European trait.

When I was serving in a parish in Atlantic City, we concluded Mass with the prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel. The prayer was not my favorite one because of its strong imagery of good and evil.  Here, in Poland, this prayer has taken on a whole new meaning. Like in Atlantic City and maybe your own parish, the Poles and the Ukrainians are devoted to Saint Michael the Archangel and beg his protection.  

Moved by these words at Mass, I painted the picture below to include fragments of the stories that I heard during these past ten days. I invite you to say this prayer in unity with all the people of the Ukraine and I hoped that my painting would be so pleasing to the heavens that our God who always finds a way when there doesn't seem to be one, would act on behalf of the Ukrainians! May God's people particularly the Russians not have hearts of stone.

"Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the                         wickedness and snares of the devil; May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; And                     do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell                         Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.                            Amen."

If you would like to donate to the Sisters who are doing a tremendous ministry to the Ukrainians, please use Paypal.me/uaref    to send a gift.  

 A 12-year-old girl, an amazing sixth grader, traveled all the way from Kyiv on the train by herself.   Her mother works in Wroclaw, a city in Poland. The war broke out and in a panic, her mother called everyone she knew on her cellphone to help her daughter escape.  The church came to her aid and put her daughter on a train and her mother raced to the border so she could be there to greet her daughter. If children arrive unaccompanied, they are placed in an orphanage until their parents can find them. I can't even imagine the helplessness and desperation of a parent when they can't be there to help their child.  When mother and daughter arrive at the convent, relief floods their faces as they are welcomed in.

I meet a 16-year-old boy looking at a train schedule to decide which city his family might choose.  When I ask about his journey from Horlivka, he shrugs his shoulders and says it was fine, but crowded.  He tells me that he is quite accustomed to travel. I smile at his je ne sais quoi which makes him quite appealing.  He spoke english very well, so I was able to ask him a few more questions. Horlivka is being bombarded by missiles, so I asked if the missiles frightened him.  He said:  I didn't think about the missiles, they were at a distance and I wanted my family to be safe".  After staying in an underground shelter, the family decided they would be better off at home.  Four days later, their decision made, they leave for Poland. Unlike the other refugees who told their stories with much angst, he relates his story very calmly without much ado and I wonder about the resiliency of youth.  I'm hoping it is.

One of my students has a relative in the army and he is stationed here in Poland.  When I walk around town, I keep looking at the upper arms of any soldiers who cross my path to see their flags, but I have not spotted any from the US until now. This afternoon we saw five huge unmarked army vehicles parked along the side of the road and Sister Malgorzata (Margaret)  says they are American.  I am tempted to approach them, but they look so formidable and dark that I decide to just walk on. We are grateful for their presence and service! 

Over two million refugees are seeking refuge in Poland. The number is staggering and sometimes I feel like I am doing so little since the convent can only accommodate 30-40 people every one or two days. When I start feeling discouraged about the extent of what I am doing here, I remember one of my favorite quotes from Mother Teresa:  "Do little things with great love".  I can do that!  I can make beds, fold some sheets, draw portraits and help in any small way and more importantly, pour love into each small act of compassion. Ministry isn't about how much we accomplish, but the quality of our presence in each encounter.  I can't speak Ukrainian, but I can look at each person in their eyes, give them my best smile. and fold my hands in a praying gesture that I can offer to them.  I will never know if my little things made a difference, but I know there's more love in the world. 

You might be wondering about my visit with my brother, sister and two sisters-in-law today.  I was so happy to see them and even happier that Mother Janina and Sister Margaret accompanied me.  My Polish vocabulary is limited to a five-year-old's knowledge of the language and the Sisters translated at times as well as helped with the conversation.  Saying good-bye, my sister and brother hugged me tightly not knowing if we would see each other again.  As I sat in the car on the way back to Przesmyl, I thought of the Ukrainians and how many have said a similar good-bye.

A family of four including five month old twins just arrived. How cruel to make a mother and father travel into an unknown destination with newborns!  They are absolutely beautiful, the next generation of Ukrainians to carry on this strong and proud heritage.

"Habemus" (we have) a Paypal account for anyone who would like to donate.  Here is the link to be used:  Paypal.me/uaref. The name on the account is Malgorzata Grabowska who is the treasurer for the Little Servant Sisters of the Immaculate Conception in Przesmyl, Poland.

Most of the refugees are now coming from Sumy and Horlivka, Ukraine,  where the bombing and fighting is intense.  There are fewer than usual refugees exiting the train and we wonder if they are being held at the border or unable to get the trains safely. One refugee told us that there were fourteen people squeezed into their compartment for eight.  Cars filled, we set off to the convent.  As soon as we pack the trunk and close the car doors, the refugees begin to relate their horrific escape which now is becoming very familiar.  The only difference is the intense fear which keeps escalating.   

Each group postulates a new hypothesis: Putin will bomb the entire country, Putin will strike the border, followed by Putin will invade Poland.  I'm getting so weary of hearing his name and I would love to say Putin, the former president of Russia, or "he who shall not be named".  Everyone is speculating, the refugees, the volunteers, the police, the Poles and even the Sisters. Fear is contagious, but so is hope.  What strikes me as is that so often the hypothesis and/or rumor ends with "we must pray harder or God is with us".  Keep the faith, good people, God is the only sure thing!

Today, I learned that most Ukrainians belong to the Greek Orthodox or Roman Catholic Church.  Within our three-block radius, we have the Greek Orthodox Church, the Franciscan Church and the Cathedral.  I wondered why the Greek Orthodox Church and the Cathedral both have the name of Saint John the Baptist.  I thought it would be confusing.  When Pope John Paul II visited Przesmyl, he asked the diocese to give one of the Churches to the Greek Orthodox religion because they didn't have a worship space.  Mystery solved.  As I stood and looked up at the magnificent architecture, I see one of the refugee families leaving the church and I hope that they found strength and consolation as they gazed upon the icons and prayed within its sturdy walls.

What a joy it is to see them walking outside after being hunkered down in a bunker for about three weeks!  As we enter the courtyard, I see another child trying to ride a small bike with her mother.  Warmed by the sun, all of us could breathe the refreshing air and feel normal again.

In the morning, the Sisters who can drive a stick shift will be taking different groups to buses starting at 6:00 in the morning.  Mother Janina, Sister Margaret and I are traveling to Cmolas where I will see my brother, younger sister who resembles me and my sister-in-law.  Since I left Poland at the age of five, I have only seen my family in 1984 and 2012.  I am so grateful that Mother Janina offered to take me and both she and Sister Margaret will help with the conversation.  I am looking forward to seeing them, but there's always a sadness because distance separates us.  

Some of you are coming into this journey at various entries, so I want to describe the general process. The refugees enter Poland at the border, on buses, trains or by foot.  At the border, the Polish soldiers stop the trains and buses and check the papers of some or most of the travelers.  Sometimes the trains are so crowded that the soldiers can't reach everyone.  At the border, buses take the refugees to Tesco, which is the humanitarian center set up by the Polish government.  If they are on the train, they arrive at the train station in Przesmyl where Caritas volunteers feed them, help carry their bags, and help direct them to their next step.  The Sisters go to the train station several times because we never know when a train will arrive and look for mothers and children who do not have overnight accommodations and bring them to their convent.  They feed, clothe, provide a bed, and drive them to their next destination and gas prices are even higher than in the United States.

I am grateful that many of you are asking about how to donate to the Sisters.  They are trying to develop a Pay Pal account, but that might take another day or two.  Stay tuned and hopefully, the Sisters will have one by Thursday. 

This morning started with more farewells to our refugees.  One woman is heading to Greece by bus, another family to Wroclaw, Poland. and a third one to another convent that opened its doors.  Sister Christina and Sister Eva head to the train station to see if there are refugees needing a room.  In the meanwhile, Sisters strip beds, launder, fold sheets and pillowcases, and ready the beds for our new residents who will arrive at any time.  I join in where I can and so our daily rhythm begins.

Two hours later,  I go with Sisters Anna and Dorota to attend a Final Profession at their Motherhouse in Stare Wies which means old village. That makes me smile because most of the villages here in Poland are old. After about an hour and half, we arrive at a magnificent light-colored building with a large cupola at the top and a metal ladder on its side which I would love to climb.  I won't.

After meeting the Mother General who spent time in the States, we meet a family of refugees who have just arrived from Sumy on the eastern side of the Ukraine close to the Russian border.  The city is being targeted by the Russians and is battling for its life.  As they describe their ordeal, the mother stands wringing her hands over and over and over again.  Her voice escalates in pitch and volume as she describes their three weeks in an underground basement. They feared that the building would collapse and bury them alive, and no one would ever hear them.  Agonizing over their decision to leave "for the children's sake", the family tries to escape down the "humanitarian corridor" through a barrage of bullets from the Russian soldiers. The traumatized mother just keeps repeating over and over: " They just kept shooting at us and we just ran for our lives to the bus".  The husband says goodbye and remains to fight for their country.  Such strength and courage are absolutely inspiring!

In the afternoon, we attend the Final Vows of a Sister who is making a lifetime vowed commitment to God and the congregation.  Celebrating this significant event during this tumultuous time surprised me, but the more I pondered it as I sat in the pew, the joyous ritual seemed desperately needed.  Terrible tragedies like this war cause us to ask the question:  Where is our God?  This Sister's self-offering answers the question.

In her article, The Future of Religious Life, Sandra Schneiders poses these questions to women religious, but they shed light on the rightness of this final vow commitment in the face of this unjust war and mass exodus.  "Do we bear witness to His presence among us when we are most beleaguered, most dispirited, most threatened by “the authorities” who are really after us and who do have power to do us real harm?  Do we do this in solitude and in community, with fellow Religious and laity, with Catholics and non-Catholics and even non-believers? Do we do it when we have the resources and when we don’t, when we can see the light at the end of the tunnel and when we can’t? (p.16). 

In this young woman's final commitment as a religious Sister within her congregation, she is professing that God is right here in the midst of suffering.  God walks with the Ukrainian families through bullets and bombs as they flee.  In the heart of fear, grief and loss, God weeps.  God opens a way where there is none.  Let us pray these words from the song "Do Not Fear to Hope" by Rory Cooney for the Ukrainian people:

                        Do not fear to hope through the wicked rage and rise.
                        Our God sees not as we see,
                        Success is not the prize.
                        Do not fear to hope, for though the night be long,
                        The race shall not be to the swift,
                        The fight not to the strong. 

                        Look to God when reason fails
                        And terror reigns in the night.
                        Look upon the crucified
                        And see beyond into Easter’s dawning light.

God's light will overcome this darkness and this young Sister's commitment boldly proclaims our faith!

Many of you are asking how to help through a donation.  Although I left quickly for this mission trip, my congregation, the Sisters of Saint Joseph, were extremely generous and people nearby dropped off donations. When any family leaves, I give the mother $50.00 in American money when exchanged is about $200.00 in Polish currency.  Each time I do this, the mother cries as a little bit of her anxiety is released.  I gave another donation to Yuri who is a Ukrainian man who drives people from the border to Przesmyl.  I am talking to the Sisters about setting up a PayPal account and if you would like to do so, tomorrow's blog will have more information.  

Thank you for praying along with us!

Today, Saint Joseph's Day, started out as a wonderful day of celebration, but as the day continued, we are brought back very quickly to the harsh realities of war. We are in the midst of a lot of comings and goings; most of the farewells are happy ones because the families knowing their hosts are less anxious about their next step. I am especially sorry to say goodbye to 10-year-old Dania who spoke English very well and could translate for me.  

One family with a small baby received a call that their friend retracted their invitation and now they had nowhere to go.  Tears filled their eyes and disappointment lined their faces.  Now, they struggle with the excruciating decision to either go to an unknown placement in Germany or return to Ukraine.  Their fear is palpable, and words flew back and forth among them.  They only have a few moments because the bus will be leaving soon.  I don't know how, but they make their decision: they choose Germany and we pray that their placement will be a safe one.  I spoke with one of the supervisors who spoke English and there's a great concern about human trafficking once the families leave for their destinations.

Yesterday, the family who were very poor (I had mentioned them in an earlier blog) still had nowhere to go. When there seemed to be no options, the Sisters offered one of their convents to the family where the Sisters selflessly moved into another one to make room. These Sisters here have a tremendous heart as well as boundless energy.  I feel like an old lady going up the stairs next to even their elders since they race past me.  

Tonight, a policeman at the train station shook his head as he told Sister Christina that the number of families returning to Ukraine is increasing.  This news breaks our hearts as we continue to hear the reports of the Russian missile bombardment moving into the central part of the Ukraine. I wondered why they were risking a return. One woman wanted to stand by her fiancee and if she were to die, she wanted to die on her own motherland.  Others just came to place their children for safekeeping with family or friends.  Some return because they expect more than a room with cots. For many, they were unable to withdraw finances from banks and so desperately need a job to provide for their families. Hoping for more opportunities, they take trains and buses to large cities like Warsaw and Krakow and we hope that this will not be just an empty promise.  Many Ukrainians returning are those who are poor because they do not have the same contacts, financial resource or direction.  

You may remember that I mentioned Sister Christina taught in Ukraine for about 20 years and was in Poland on retreat when the war broke out.  She lived with one sister in central Ukraine.  This afternoon, the Sister sent her a photo showing the visibility of a missile from their convent and the Sister chooses bravely to remain as a presence with her people. Her pain and worry were etched clearly on Sister Christina's face as her eyes filled up with tears.  

After these past few days, it dawned on me that I have never experienced war.  I've read accounts, watched movies, marched in peace rallies and prayed for peace for countries engaged in conflict. I have never spent enough hours to contemplate the extent of its impact.  The people I see have been uprooted from their land which they love and gave them their sense of purpose and identity and pride. Families torn apart as elders, husbands and friends are left behind.  They have done nothing to cause this aggression except to desire the right to determine their government and economy and now, like sacrificial lambs, they are being offered as sacrifice.  

Now, I echo the questions I have heard uttered in quiet whispers as if speaking their fears aloud would make them too real.  What will these good people have when they return?  Who will help them to rebuild?  Will it be us?  What of the earth itself?  Will it also heal?  I don't know where this will lead in my life, but the suffering I have witnessed is carved into my heart and I will never forget what I have seen.   

We try to add lightness to our day so that we are not brought down by sadness.  Yesterday, at the noon meal, the Sisters asked why I wasn't taking one of the delicious desserts.  In an abashed manner, I said:  Sisters, I have a confession to make.  One of the young sisters responded rather quickly and asked if I needed a priest.  I said no, I want to make a confession to the Sisters.  As I looked around at the startled faces, I admitted that I had stopped at a bakery on my return back to the convent and had a most delicious Paczki (donut), and it was big.  After much laughter, the Sisters offered me a cup of tea and I had to further confess that I had a chai latte, too.  This morning, Sister Agnes drove me to the bakery, and I bought paczki for all the Sisters to enjoy. I called them Saint Joseph cakes. 

Continue to pray for the courage and endurance of these good people as they choose life for their children and themselves!

!

Sister Agnes, Sister Eva and I are driving to Malyka, a small town on the border of Poland and the Ukraine which serves as an entry point for those escaping the war.  The Sisters teased me about bringing my passport, but we wouldn't be allowed on the Ukrainian side.  As soon as we arrived about 1000 feet from the border, the police are directing the traffic and Sister Eva and I begin to walk the rest of the way.  Malyka is the hometown of Sister Agnes, so she goes off to surprise her mother with a visit.

Hundreds of cars left by the Ukrainian refugees to be retrieved later are parked everywhere and I feel like we are going to a huge fair.  It sounds and smells like one. I can see about 25 booths ahead, blue portable toilets, 6 large tents that are set up as a medical and about 100 volunteers milling around. Music is playing, smells of food are wafting towards our noses, people are greeting each other and clothes displayed in boxes along the way. In portable kitchens, volunteers prepare food to feed the hungry and give drink to those who thirst. There is one major difference at this "fair".  Nothing is for sale, but offered free to all including volunteers, soldiers and the police.  

Sister Eva found out how friendly Americans can be, well, maybe just this American.  I see a large banner proclaiming "the human race as one" which resonates with the mission of the Sisters of Saint Joseph, so I stop to meet the Sikhs who then offer me a tantalizing dish.  Next, I greet two of our Jewish brothers from the Ebenezer Operation Exodus, a Danish cook from the World Central Food Kitchen,  some Jesuit Volunteers from California and a blonde American woman with her nephews from New York.  She is the wife of the ambassador to Finland and her husband is walking further along the road.  As we continue,  I recognize the Polish Catholics immediately because they greet priests and nuns with the phrase "God be praised" and we respond with the same.  

Seeing all the different faiths and hearing all different languages, some I can't even recognize, I think of the Feast of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit descended on all who were gathered and united them into one body.  All understood each other. We, though from many lands and speaking many tongues, are here united by our hearts which were so moved that we had to come. Language and differences fall away, and we see in each other's eyes the unity of our hearts. The kingdom of God is already coming and we are glimpsing it here at this crossroad.  

Slightly ahead, we see a large vertical green fence with an open gate, and I remember that the Polish president, following ex-President Trump's example, wanted to build a wall along this border.  What an amazing change of heart!  Now, this president is encouraging all to help.  When I remember this, it gives me such hope that peace may be possible even in what seems to be an impossible situation.   

The green vertical bars remind me of a prison, yet I wonder if it is a symbol of sanctuary to the Ukrainians who are making their way of the Cross. I stand with Sister Eva and others at the fence and keep vigil.  A man waiting for his sister to arrive from the Ukraine is standing next to me. His nervous pacing lets me know that he is concerned about her safety, and I ask him when she will arrive.  He says: "I don't know. I will just stand here and wait".  I, saying a silent prayer for her and all who were walking this path, stood, waiting with him. Slowly, in the distance on the Ukrainian side, we can see a group approaching the fence; a woman, and a Polish soldier pushing an older man in a wheelchair and another soldier carrying a bag.

As soon as they enter the gates, the volunteers shout words of welcome and I wonder if the man and woman are experiencing the stark contrast between the two sides of the fence. On one side, they faced the evil of war which brought death, destruction and grief and on this side, an overwhelming spirit of goodness. Included in this realm of goodness are all whose hearts have been moved with compassion at the images and stories on television or the internet and do what they can to help. Let us not forget that the Spirit of goodness is also very active in the Ukraine:  the priests and the Sisters who choose to stay with their people, the Ukrainians themselves and even in the Russian soldiers.  May the Spirit of God overpower the spirit of evil!

While walking back to meet Sister Agnes I was mistaken for one of the refugees.  Two volunteers in a booth hand me a juice and food and speak to me in Ukrainian.  Sister Victoria laughs. I am so happy. It might have been my big puffy coat and warm hat, but I hoped they saw in my face the desire to be one with the oppressed.  I took the juice, thanked the volunteers and continued along the way.  

Happy Saint Joseph's Day to all particularly my Sisters!  This morning we began with a Mass offered for the intention of Sister Celestine (that's me) and the Sisters of Saint Joseph. Breakfast was a feast with gifts on the table from Saint Joseph!

Feeling somewhat familiar with the needs at the train station, I pray about where would be the best way to offer my help since I could not speak a word of Ukrainian. How could I use my unique "gifts that I have received from God to serve others, as a faithful steward of grace?" (1 Peter 4:10).  And the Holy Spirit directed my path. In the afternoon,  I made my first solo trip to the train station.  Entering a room with tables and chairs, I notice a pretty ten-year-old girl drawing a beautiful landscape with crayons and being an artist and art teacher, I was immediately drawn to her (no pun intended).  Was she painting a memory of the Ukraine prior to the bombs or a vision of hope for her future?  I am frustrated, because I have no way to communicate with her except through facial expressions of amazement and joy.  Then, a lightbulb goes off in my head and I know how I could serve.  Sister Veronica who was in the room translates my request and the young woman shyly says yes.  I could draw her.  

Watching me intently as I sketch with a black crayon, I draw her eyes first because I could almost see into her spirit; the strength, the innocence and oh, the beauty of this child of God.  Others in the room come to watch. When I complete the sketch in about 10 minutes, the child's mother insists that I sign it, so her daughter will have a joyful memory of this time.  Holding her portrait, the girl lit up the room with her smile as she runs around showing the picture to everyone.  A young boy wearing a headset declares he is next.  When I complete his portrait, he becomes my agent gathering other clients and instructing them on how to sit, pose and be still.  He is especially tough on his little brother who keeps fidgeting.  Even one of the older volunteers from Caritas (Catholic Charities) lines up to have his portrait done.  For a time, all of us could forget and escape together into the renewing and healing process of creation.  I loved giving others such joy and it strengthened me for the challenge of the evening.

On our nightly visit, several Sisters and I wait at the station for the trains to arrive from the Ukraine.  We are looking for a mother and child because we only have one bed to offer. This is not an easy task because most refugees travel in large family groups and we are tired from our day.  Sister Christine finally spots a young woman holding a baby and asks if she has a place to stay.  With a relieved look on her face, she says yes to our invitation, but can't go immediately because she is waiting for her younger sister, little brother,  and mother. to return from the WC. With a sigh and great difficulty, Sister Christine tells her that we do not have the room for them, and the girl begins to beg.  Our hearts are moved.  How could we refuse her pleading? Sister Christine calls the Superior to see if the Sisters could find some room for them to stay.and thankfully they did. 

While we wait for another convent car to arrive, the family filling in each other's descriptions or talking at the same, begins to tell their story. Their animated faces, gestures and rapid pattern of speaking bare the trauma of their escape from Kyiv. They speak of the constant wailing of the sirens, the bombs striking targets, the shooting in the streets, waiting their turn for the train, squeezing together like sardines and standing for a three day journey without the relief of a bathroom.  Hearing more of their life journey, we know that they are poor in many ways: a 40 year old single mother of four children including a 6 month old baby and a nineteen year old whose baby was taken away by the father trying to survive on public assistance. The nineteen year old's first question of us is where she could find work.  

Most of the Ukrainians arriving in Poland ask the same question with such hope and expectation.  They had heard from "someone" or read on the internet about the abundance of work and are terribly  disappointed when they find out that jobs are difficult to find. My own nephew and niece from Poland are living in England because of the scarcity of employment here in this country.  Like the Israelites in the desert during the Exodus, some Ukrainians upon hearing this begin to lament leaving the Ukraine.

This night reminded me of another story of a mother, father and baby who were looking for room at an inn and were told that they were full. I am so grateful that this time there was enough. Jesus, revealed through this family, received an extra cot, an air mattress, a bathroom with a shower and the safety of a room without bombs.

Tomorrow, I will travel with the Sisters to one of the entry points for  the Ukrainian refugees where they walk into the warm welcome of Poland.  The town of Przesmyl where I am staying is about 20 minutes from the border.  

Enjoy the pictures of the portraits!

For the first time in my life, I couldn't take a photograph.  Usually I capture  moments which draw my heart, but I could not focus my camera last night because of the tears streaming down my face.  Sister Christine and I went on our nightly ministry to the train station in Przesmyl to see if any women with children needed a place to stay and we wait for the trains bearing Ukrainian refugees to arrive. As we were walking underground between railroad platforms, two old women, who reminded me of Naomi and Ruth in scripture,  were coming toward us. They were clinging to each other for life and sobbing aloud as they slowly plodded along.  Following behind volunteers carried their meager belongings.  

This intimate encounter did not need to be recorded by a camera because this moment of fear, aloneness and helplessness is seared into my heart.  The memory haunts me this morning.  What have their eyes seen and hearts suffered?  They could be my grandmother, mother, aunt or Sister.  They are our sisters for we are all one family of God.   "No elderly person should be an "exile" in our families" (Pope Francis)

Another casualty of this war are our brothers and sisters who suffer with mental illness.  While at the train station, Sister Christine and I saw a young pretty woman standing alone and looking very dazed.  We  asked her if she needed a place to stay.  She was frozen in her spot and couldn't move in any direction.  First, she wanted to go to Warsaw to look for work, but then wanted to stay. We were concerned about her plan because the city is overwhelmed with its number of refugees who are sleeping on cold sidewalks while waiting in line for help.  I was worried by her vulnerability as a woman. When she heard me me slip and say an English word, she began to speak in halting English.  The young woman is suffering with schizophrenia and had stopped taking her medicine because of the side effects. Blessedly, a volunteer came over and we encouraged the young woman to go with her to the doctor onsite.  We pray that this young woman will receive whatever she needs.  

The media particularly the international photographers focus on mothers and children.  Like the elderly who seem to be ignored, our brothers and sisters who are suffering mental illness are one of our most vulnerable populations. In the US, we witnessed how Covid added such stress to anyone who struggled with anxiety or depression. Can you imagine how this war affects this vulnerable population?  Yesterday, a young woman and child staying with us received a phone call that her entire family was dead.  Her response was to withdraw from that reality.  She was comatose while her child wailed for his mother.  Eventually, the Sisters took her to a psychiatric hospital where she could get help and her child taken care of.  I keep thinking that my heart cannot bear to hear anymore suffering, but then Grace abounds and gives me strength.  I know that  God is working on all that is "not yet" and that all shall be well someday. 

Thank goodness for the blessing of your prayer and journeying with these Sisters.  At dinner, we just laughed and laughed to let go of the pain of the day.  Now, my understanding of Polish has been pretty good, but I have a difficulty with numbers.  I would ask the time for prayer, Mass or dinner and the Sisters would tell me, but sometimes I would show up on time and on other occasions I would be late or miss it completely.   Finally, I asked a Sister to write down the time and I looked at the paper and laughed and laughed.  .Duuhhh.....just like my lack of familiarity with Polish addresses, I did not realize that they always used military time  No wonder sometimes I got the timing right.  I'm being stretched in ways that I could not imagine!

Yesterday morning, one of the Sisters drove Sister Veronica and me to the train station in Przesmyl. Most of the refugees are brought to the station by volunteers from all over the world.  I've met wonderful people from Japan, Northern Ireland, Scotland, France, Italy, Germany,  the United States and even Mozambique just to mention a few. Some arrive solo like me, but others come as representatives of  organizations such as Good Samaritans, Jehovah Witness, Catholic Charities, and many Christian and Jewish church groups.  I am amazed at connected we are, united by our desire to help those who are being persecuted and as we Sisters of Saint Joseph call them, "our dear neighbors". I loved seeing priests with sleeves rolled up,  Franciscans and Sisters working in the midst of the people and how I wished that I spoke Ukrainian!

Volunteers help in any way they can:  cooking meals, giving directions, using their cellphones to call the numbers on the papers clutched by the refugees and helping to carry belongings.  People arrive in large groups as the buses and trains empty.  I used the word "relief" in earlier posts. because it is the most common expression on the faces upon arrival. One woman who spoke English started to cry as she said it is so different here:  "we are being greeted so warmly and then, she looked to the East, and said "there we have lost everything.  There are only bombs and demolished buildings".   The refugees shake their heads in disbelief when they find out all the trains, taxis and buses are free to take them wherever they need to go:  Germany, Cracow, Gdansk:  any city where there are either friends, relatives or more opportunities for work and residence.  Przesmyl is a small town with limited resources, however, the townspeople are at the station helping and even cleaning up the debris from the crowds.  Are we surprised? I am so proud of my heritage.

What other stories can I share with you today that you might be one with me in this journey?  So many tear at my  heart. and yet there is a universality to this experience of displacement.  As I watch the Ukrainians walking with drooping shoulders and faces showing strength, yet confusion and numbness at the same time,  I remember vivid pictures of other peoples who were forced out of their homes.  Prior to coming, parents had to make gut wrenching decisions. This is what I heard over and over from the young mothers traveling with their children and elderly relatives.  "Do we stay in the Ukraine or journey into the unknown with our children?  If we stay, our children will bear the lasting scars of what they are seeing and hearing.  I witness these effects on the children who are staying with us in the convent:  they are startled by every fast movement and noise. Yet leaving for these women means saying good bye to their husbands or  elderly parents who are not strong enough for the journey. How do you say goodbye not knowing if you will ever embrace them again or tend to their wounds if they are injured fighting.   For many the choice is made with a sigh of resignation and they come.  The lines from Deuteronomy are at the core of these gut wrenching decisions:  "...choose life, that both you and your seed may live".  Deuteronomy 30:19. 

For some, they make the decision to return.  Sister Christina, a Sister who has spent many years teaching in the Ukraine, cries as we stand watching families enter the trains heading to Ukraine.  Why are they going back, I ask he?  She tells me that the men want to return to fight and they don't want to leave the wives with the children to fend for themselves.  So, they return to fight for their country.  Another woman who spoke English tells me that she was working in Poland when the war broke out and now, she wants to return because her parents are there.  She will join the war effort. The love and pride for their country is palpable in the train station as I listen to a man playing the national anthem on an accordion.  Some begin to sing and a man walking by waves a Ukrainian flag. 

Last night several Sisters and I returned to the train station to see if there were any women and children who needed housing and to bring them back to the convent.  Here's one more story with a lighter note.  A younger man handed his baby to Sister Veronica so he could go and get a ticket for the train.  If you're wondering how a man was allowed to leave, men who have four children or a child with special needs are allowed to leave the Ukraine.  When he didn't return for quite a while, the Sisters teased Sister Veronica and said maybe she would be the child's godmother.  Thank goodness, he did come back. We waited for two more trains to empty.   When they arrived, we gathered a few families, tried to squeeze them and their belongings into cars and two of us walked home.  

This is an image I painted yesterday.