Kind of like the Grinch.

And what happened then-well, in Whoville they say

That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day...And the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches--plus two. 
And now that his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
With a smile in his soul, he descended Mount Crumpet,
Cheerily blowing Who! Who! on his trumpet.
-Doctor Suess

A few days before leaving on our trip, I went for a walk with a dear friend in the pouring rain. I shared with her that since we purchased our plane tickets, just a couple weeks prior, I felt like my capacity to love was being expanded. That my heart seemed as if it was aching with growing pains. I would find myself tearing up, praying more, and preparing for what was to come of this excursion to an unknown land. She smiled and said, you're like the grinch with your heart literally growing! (Minus the grumpy, mean old green creature part).
Now, just a couple weeks later, it is safe to say my heart has indeed grown, probably even more than three sizes. 

Ukraine is a beautiful and despairing place. Where society's corruption, war and perversion collide with amazing pockets of people on fire for seeing the broken and downtrodden restored, where murals speckle the tattered facades of old Soviet-era buildings and good food abounds. Zhytomyr (the city we stayed in) is a place that oddly felt very much like home. There we were able to meet the loveliest sort of people. We worshiped with them, bridge jumped with them, served bananas and laughed with the boys at Romaniv together. It was a delight to step into to such a gracious and involved community across the world. 

    
Then there were those days at the Romaniv orphanage. A place that is so awful but inside those sweet boys capture your soul. Our original goal was to go there to build a play structure. But sadly the shipment of equipment was stuck at the boarder. Instead we got to spend our days with these amazing individuals. The majority of our time was in the isolation hall, where 24 of the less mobil boys suffering from more severe disabilities reside. Oh the power of nurturing and and simply being with someone. What struck me was the beauty in the mutual sharing of care from each of us and each of those boys. They have so much personality and so much to offer. The laughs, smiles, and snuggles-they are the best. The best medicine is taking time to be simply be present with each other and love with abandon. 

The place itself, is wrought with inequality. And like the entire compound, the dirty white walls that line the rooms where these boys live are longing to see revival. The ultimate goal is to find these boys permanent homes where they can thrive and be loved by a family. In the mean time, I invision bright and colorful spreads of art across those weary walls. Art has the ability to transcend language, differences, and pain. I believed it before and now it is more clear than ever. When music was played in the isolation hall, the very ambiance of the space shifted into joy. The boys loved the colorful jackets and scarves-imagine if they had beautiful paintings strewn across the hall, inviting them to a place of whimsical imagination. 

Now we are home and I find myself quite sad,burdened at times, and unable to stop a smiling at others. This trip has changed sometime deep within both Sean and I. We have gained a new lens to view life. What truly matters is relationship, is taking the time to sit and be with others, to invest your time in loving others instead of chasing things. Jean Vanier put it best, "We are not called by God to do extraordinary things, but to do ordinary things with extraordinary love." I can't wait to return to Ukraine, hopefully equipped with a paintbrush (several) and pages of mural ideas...