Some moments hit you like a freight train.
We took a wrong turn leaving the cemetery in Kryvyi Rih. What we found next wasn’t on any map—a massive archway under construction, leading to a field where thousands of new blue and yellow flags rippled in the wind. Each one marking a Ukrainian soldier’s grave.
Many from Russia’s 2014 invasion of Ukraine in the main cemetery but thousands more in this new cemetery since Putin’s full-scale invasion. A few from just days ago. Fresh holes being dug for tomorrow’s fallen.
Then I saw her—a young woman kneeling at her husband’s grave, speaking to him as if he was just there. Nearby, a mother placed flowers on her son’s final resting place. That’s when the tears came.
The Reality Behind the Headlines
It’s easy to forget Russia has been killing Ukrainians since 2014. Walking through that cemetery, seeing engraved photos of soldiers who looked like your neighbour, your colleague, your friend—it strips away the abstraction. These weren’t combatants. They were gentle, ordinary people who should be fixing cars, teaching maths, picking their tomatoes or complaining about the weather.
But here’s what the statistics don’t capture: the extraordinary resilience woven through everyday life.
Freezing Apartments and Warm Hearts
That night, Lola – our volunteer translator from Fortress of Good NGO (Banner of Love church) invited us for dinner. Despite everything—despite Russian strikes on gas stations postponing the heating season by a month, despite her own family in Russia parroting Kremlin propaganda and cutting her off entirely—she served homemade borscht, horse meat sausage, home-cured jamon, and preserves that tasted like summer.
We sat in her warm kitchen while she shared how family relationships she’d trusted for decades evaporated overnight when Russia invaded. “They started saying completely bizarre, untrue things, no matter what we tried to tell them of our experiences and were in complete denial that their country had invaded us” she explained. “Now I wonder what was ever real about our relationships.”
Pastor Oleg said something profound over dinner: “Zelenskyy represents young, modern Ukraine—beyond the Soviet slave mentality that we tried to oust with Yanukovich.”
The apartment we returned to was freezing. We piled on every jacket we’d brought, wrapped ourselves in blankets, and drank endless cups of hot tea. (Who needs CrossFit when you can shiver for cardio?) But the humour fades when you think about the elderly and infirm facing winter without heat—a brutal Russian strategy that’s killed countless civilians in past years. Central heating in this town has been postponed for at least a month for now as Russia has been hitting the gas supplies that heat the water. And daily power outages meant there wasn’t an electric option either. Again, thanks to relentless bombing of power plants by Russia which continue.
Four Minutes to Impact
Day three brought a surreal notification: “Gliding bombs headed your way. 4 minutes till impact.”
Four. Minutes. To get to the concrete shelter.
Even if you become a bit inured to this it has to take it’s toll eventually.
The Work That Matters
The church-run NGO we support here in Kryvyi Rih (Fortress of Good) does extraordinary work most news cycles miss:
- Running missions to de-occupied villages with food, water, and programs for traumatised children and families.
- Providing chaplaincy support in hospitals and on frontlines and frontline villages
- Military chaplaincy for soldiers facing unimaginable circumstances
- Connecting isolated communities with mobile clinics (connecting these guys with the other NGO we support – Christian Medical Association of Ukraine)
On day two, we walked past cute little kindergarteners playing in a schoolyard. Their teacher suddenly rushed them inside seconds before the air raid siren wailed. The reason? Not long ago, Russia targeted a playground full of children in this very city, killing 35 kids. The missile was specifically loaded with shrapnel for maximum damage.
The teacher wasn’t taking chances. Neither would you.
Ron went to a prayer meeting at the church and I spoke to a group of wonderful, motivated and engaged family doctors at their meeting. I had met one of them at the Lisbon conference and they invited me to teach something at their group. We discussed clinical reasoning and communication skills while air raid sirens punctuated our conversation and they’d brought candles in case we lost power again. These physicians—working without reliable power, under constant threat—told me something I’ll never forget: “Your visit gives us strength to stay and serve in Ukraine.”
I went to give support. They gave me perspective.
No power during the night again and so many air raid sirens. I cannot imagine being exposed to this for nearly 4 years.
That’s what we witnessed everywhere—people refusing to be broken, maintaining dignity under circumstances that would crush most of us. Every air raid siren (and there were many through those sleepless nights) is met not with panic, but with practiced resilience. But it takes it’s toll. (see “Scare Raids”)
How You Can Help
This grassroots work—connecting medical professionals, supporting war-traumatised communities, providing basics like heating and food—doesn’t make headlines. But it’s keeping Ukraine alive.
Every contribution matters:
- Funds mobile medical clinics reaching de-occupied villages
- Supports hospital visits for injured soldiers
- Provides programs helping children process trauma
- Supplies basics when Russian strikes target civilian infrastructure
These aren’t just statistics. They’re the young woman at her husband’s grave. The doctors choosing to stay despite four-minute warnings. The kindergarten teacher protecting her students. The grandmother facing winter without heat.
The Bottom Line
I’ve worked in challenging environments for decades. But witnessing daily life under siege—where homemade borscht and four-minute warnings coexist, where hope persists despite betrayal and bombs—that changes you.
Support isn’t abstract. It’s tangible strength for people who’ve already given everything and somehow keep giving more.
