Finding Hope in a Land Still at War

*The entrance to the bomb shelter at Ivanchany elementary and middle school in western Ukraine.

A month ago or so, while we were preparing to leave Ukraine and make the eight-hour drive to Romania after completing this phase of our work, I was struck by so many thoughts and emotions. It had been another unforgettable visit—one filled with reminders of both the scars of history and the remarkable resilience of the Ukrainian people.

Our final days began with an unexpected discovery. While clearing land on the property, we unearthed what turned out to be an unexploded World War II artillery shell. The de-mining team eventually arrived and confirmed that the shell was still armed more than seventy years later. It was a sobering reminder that the past is never far away in this part of the world. The Nazis devastated Ternopil during World War II, and just sixty miles away in Kremenets, some 15,000 Jews were murdered. Even today, history literally lies beneath the soil.

Our team completed a deep cleanup of the property, removing years of accumulated rubbish from the grounds and buildings. It was hard work, but deeply satisfying.

Each afternoon we shared lunch at the elementary and middle school that the children from our family village attend. The wonderful cafeteria staff prepared delicious homemade meals, but what touched me most wasn't the food—it was the children.

Last fall, my wife Wendy and her fourth-grade class at Grant Elementary in Petaluma sent pen pal letters to these students. This week I was entrusted with the replies. The Ukrainian children presented me with beautiful cards, paintings, crafts, and heartfelt letters written in English. Reading their words brought me to tears. Despite everything they have endured, they radiate warmth, creativity, and hope.

Yet their childhood is unlike anything most of us can imagine.

During our visit, we experienced several air raid alerts and another power outage. Shahed drones were reported in the region, although thankfully there was no nearby target. Still, every time the air raid sirens sound, school stops immediately. Children must leave their classrooms and make their way into underground bomb shelters, where they wait until the all-clear is given. On the day we visited, the power was out, leaving the shelter in darkness. Imagine being a child who must interrupt math class or recess to descend into a dark shelter because missiles or drones may be overhead. For these students, this isn't unusual—it's simply life.

As we left yet again, I was overwhelmed by the kindness, gratitude, and unwavering spirit of the Ukrainian people. Their courage in the face of constant uncertainty is humbling. Each visit reminds me of just how much I have to be thankful for and challenges me to see life through a different lens.

I already look forward to returning.

Thank you for following this journey. If you'd like to learn more about our work in Ukraine or how you can help, please reach out to me at bill@billfunk.life.