“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it”? Luke 15:4
Approximately 10 years ago, in the summer of 1999, Travis Simone and I worked at a summer camp for orphanage children in Ukraine. One day, we were walking around downtown Odessa when we passed a woman sitting on the sidewalk with a 3-year-old girl in her lap. She was begging for money and using the child as a tool for sympathy. The method was effective because it wasn’t an average child. She had an extremely severe scar from a burn. It started on her head and went down the side of her whole body, yet from the front, the child was strikingly beautiful. The child’s demeanor also took me in; she was very calm and content, strangely serene, utterly oblivious to her severe deformity, which every onlooker (including me) gawked at in amazement. I was filled with compassion for her. After a short conversation with the “mother,” I asked if I could bring the child to the Odessa plastic surgery institute, and she agreed. (In the summer of 1997, I took the plastic surgery doctors to Romania on an Operation Smile trip; since then, I have had a close working relationship with them.) After a short evaluation, one of the doctors said that the burn was too severe for them to do anything in Odessa, and she needed to go to the US for treatment. The woman said she was from Moldavia and was in Odessa to obtain money for the child. I took the woman’s contact information and said that I would make arrangements to bring them to America on a medical visa.
When I returned to the US, I set up a doctor’s appointment, but I lost the address the woman had given me. Needless to say, I was distraught with myself. Travis and I searched for them on our next two trips to Odessa in December 1999 and March 2000, but couldn’t find them. However, I still would not give up. The only thing we could remember was the name of the town she was from in Moldavia. In the summer of 2000, I ordered Moldavian visas for both of us and hired a car to drive us from Odessa to Moldavia. We wandered the town streets, showing the picture of the girl with no luck. I was highly frustrated. Had I lost the opportunity to help this girl because I misplaced her address? My translators tried to console me: “The woman who had her was a gypsy “they said, “it was probably not her real mother; they probably just had her to get money from sympathetic strangers.” Still, I was overwhelmed with guilt.
To make things worse, Alya, a precious 11-year-old girl from Orphanage # 4, had died (possibly of appendicitis) in March 2000. Travis and I left Ukraine on March 13, and she died on March 20, only 1 week later…one week! “If only I had been there one more week,” I kept saying, “I could have done something.” With Alya and the burn girl on my mind at the same time, I was an emotional basket case. (As some of you may remember, I could not mention Alya without crying). I could not help Alya, so now I was on a crusade to do something for the burn girl. For the following 2 or 3 years, I had my contacts in Odessa scour the streets and shelters looking for her, but all our efforts turned up empty. Despite my persistence, I failed. Eventually, as the years passed, the pressing needs of other children pushed her out of the forefront of my mind. However, there were always reminders of my inability to follow through with help. In those quiet moments when my mind would wander, she (along with the death of Alya) would always pop up as grim reminders of some of my worst failures, until now.
I arrived in Odessa on January 22, 2009. Usually, I stay at an apartment complex owned by an Irish guy living in Odessa. A few days into the trip, Anya, a Ukrainian woman who manages the apartment complex, stopped me in the hallway. She said, “I heard you work with orphanages and take children to the US for visits.” I told her about the Frontier Horizon Hosting Program. She asked if a child from a shelter could travel with my group. I said yes, and we discussed the process. Eventually, she mentioned this child also needed medical attention for severe burns. Many orphans need medical attention for burns, so initially, I made no connection.
Then, further into the discussion, she said the child had severe burns on her head. The corner of my mind reserved for the burn girl clicked on. I asked two questions: Is the whole head burned or just part of it? Answer: just part of it. Now, my mind is racing. Second question: How old is she? Answer: 13. IT IS HER! In my mind, I knew it, but I had to be sure. I asked Anya if she had a picture of the girl, and she brought up several images on her computer. IT WAS HER… even though she was 10 years older, I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her. I had found her again!!! Or better yet, God brought her to me since I was no longer looking for her. Her name is Galina. She was picked up in a shelter a few years ago by Tanya, a Ukrainian woman who took her into her home and adopted her. Unbelievable!
I found her! I cannot describe the joy, satisfaction, and excitement I had when I found this girl and had a second chance to help her. Yet, in many ways, these emotions are full of inconsistencies. Why care so much about one child when there are many others in similar needy conditions? Is it merely my selfish desire to alleviate some of the guilt I feel for Alya’s death? Or is it to suppress the constant awareness of my inability to help all the children who need help? I always have to make hard choices, so I focus on a few. If I’m successful, I feel as though I’ve accomplished something. And yet, if “each of them is Jesus in disguise,” why do I walk by some and stop for others? Who knows? I cannot explain it and will never be able to explain it. All I know is that I was going to do everything in my power to reestablish contact with that girl and bring her to the States.
Of course, things are never that easy; it took some time to reach the family and another few days to meet them. Tanya said she wanted to meet me alone first because Galina had been let down by people promising help in the past. I finally met with Tanya and Galina’s doctor on my last day in Ukraine and related the whole story. After building up sufficient trust that I would put all my energy into helping her, they said they would allow Galina to come here for treatment. Unfortunately, since I met Tanya on my last day in Ukraine, I did not see Galina on this trip. Hopefully, that will happen soon. In any case, my failure to follow through 10 years ago may still rise from the ashes.
I’m back in the US and have started preliminary arrangements to bring her here. She will most likely have the surgery at King Daughters Hospital in Norfolk. More to come.
