No shopping here! Our local hardware store.
Protesters in the center of L'Viv demanding change.
We stayed home for this parade through the street of L'Viv.
We encourage our kids to to play in the snow
on the edge of town, not in the center.
On Sundays we visit the orphans, passing the protests on the way as we look out the windows of the taxi.
Since we live about half a mile from the center of the city we have managed to stay away from the hot spots. But I must admit I have had moments, even days that I have been struck with fears I've never known. In the safety of a small Midwestern town in Indiana, or on the peaceful hilltops of Italy thoughts of war just never came to mind.
Recently a few hundred protesters stormed the capital building, forced the governor to resign, and then built a wall of tires, sand bags, and construction material around the government building. No one knows what will happen next, would the government fight back? What about Russia? How can a family like ours know what to do? So we pray for wisdom, we pray for Ukraine, we pray for peace and safely. Should we just buy extra buckwheat or do we need to prepare to flee to Poland if things get worse? And then there are all the "What ifs"?
We didn't see the chaos from our window, we saw it on facebook and on the news like everyone else in the world. But we were watching the news like our lives depended on it. What's next? Only God knows. Somehow love and faith keep us here.
A week ago Josh and I took the bus to the hardware store, we needed a dustpan. When we got off the bus we noticed that the entrance was blocked by mounds of tires, fires were burning and protesters were waving flags. So we crossed the street, walked back to the bus stop and tried a different store.
Life goes on as usual in this city, the snow falls, the snow melts, the kids go sledding. The bakery churns out hot bread, just like every day. We visit the orphans on Sundays after church. Life goes on as governments battle with the people for power.
As we walk to the market we pass by groups of soldiers who are on their way to somewhere. We pass quietly by, not speaking English, we don't want to draw attention to ourselves. We continue on our way stopping to buy things from the babushkas who stand on the sidewalk selling fresh milk, carrots and jars of cherries. They smile like nothing is new, after all they saw World War Two and survived communism.