Love and Courage in Ukraine

Here’s a story of love and courage from Ukraine.

My brother Marshall has friends and professional colleagues in Ukraine, and he has been in close contact with many of them during the build-up to war and its current tragic advance. Yesterday, one of his friends told him this story about her brother, and I share it here with her permission.

My brother’s friend’s brother, whom I will call Bohdan, works as a builder. His sister says "he has magic hands" and can "fix anything." Furniture, electronics—anything that is broken, he can repair it.

Bohdan and his family live in one of those cities in Ukraine that many of us had never heard of until a few weeks ago—I won't use its name either—and it is currently under siege. Ten days ago their apartment building was hit by shelling. He posted pictures of their damaged building on his public Facebook page, along with these words: “You can destroy the walls of our houses, but you can't destroy our world, our spirit, our will. We are going to save our world. We will stand. We mourn those who are dying in these bombings and the heroes who defend our holy land at the cost of their lives. Let's rebuild our homes.”

His wife’s parents live 40 kilometers away. The fighting near their home had become especially intense, and they decided it was time to evacuate. They have a car, but neither of them drives. The car belongs to their son, and he is away supporting the war effort.

Bohdan is also a runner, and he has run several marathons. So, three days ago, he ran the 25 miles to his in-laws’ home.

In the rain.

Through areas where shelling was occurring.

He drove them to a safer place—safer for now, anyway—and then returned to his apartment. The next he went back to rebuilding.

I share this story to shine light on the human capacities for love, courage, and resilience embodied in this one human and, I am sure, in thousands of others across Ukraine and across the world this very minute. (As you surely know, there are many other countries being ravaged by war: Ethiopia, Yemen, Afghanistan, and our neighbor Mexico, where over 10,000 people died last year in the drug war, and too many others.) I do not share it to glorify war. I am praying for a quick end to the horror in Ukraine, for an eventual peace that transcends punishment and vengeance, and for the downfall of leaders in all places who commit evil in their thirst for power.

Bohdan’s story reminds me of an image I’ve read in the writings of Maurice Nicoll. Nicoll was a Scottish physician, psychologist, writer, and spiritual teacher who practiced and taught near London during the Second World War. In many of his teachings, he says that human beings are like acorns who have no clue about the oak-tree potential within themselves—and cannot, until something cracks them open and they die to their acorn-ness.

I certainly do not wish Bohdan’s circumstances on anyone, including you who are reading this. But if and when the unspeakable happens in any of our lives, I hope his story will offer inspiration and encouragement to go full-on oak tree.

One final word. As I said earlier, it felt important to me that I use a pseudonym rather than this man’s real name. I typed “Ukrainian names male” into my search engine. I chose Bohdan because it means “gift of God.”