Yesterday I read your letter with a story about how you lived in this
Now my story:
I didn’t think about leaving home. I thought they would fight on the
border and the war would end. But a few days later, a rocket flew over
my roof with a wild roar. The whole roof flew off the roof of the
neighboring house. I*m lucky. 7 windows of the house and courtyard
buildings were left without glass. I went to the garden to look for my
cat and heard a male voice from a near Bible house.
The artillery shelling begins, go quickly to our shelter. I left the
cat food and water on the street and thought that I would return after a
few. But fate decreed otherwise. The youth quickly left. We left: 4
old people thought to sit out the explosions and return home. But again,
fate made its own adjustments to our plans. Two days after the departure
of the youth, a Russian patrol entered our shelter. we raised our hands
that we surrender. They laughed at our appearance and began to search.
Fortunately for us, they did not find ammunition and weapons. They left
us to live. They suggested that we leave this beautiful building, they
need head-quarters. God sent us a staff member of this biblical home. He
had the keys to the little bus. So, we drove through the
occupied territory. I sat next to the window and held a stick with a
white rag in my hands. We passed three Russian checkpoints. Each of us
was checked, but thanks for not shooting in the back. We safely reached
our volunteers and at two in the morning we arrived in Lviv. Here is
such an unexpected story in my 81 years.
Thanks to the residents of your city for protesting against the war with
I am writing this letter to you and in our street a car is loudly
talking about an air raid alert.
(After spending 5 months in LVIV, she is now back in the KYIV area.)
“Remember that justice is what love looks like in public.” – Cornel West