As Inigo says in The Princess Bride, “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” I’ve been here for almost a week, along with board members Ellen Jackson and Mary Millikan, but every day has been so full that it has felt like a month. When I’m away from home, my senses are tuned in to every detail.

If I could choose only one word to describe what I’ve seen over the last six days, this word would be “community.” There are so many ways in which God’s people have become, or are becoming, family, extended family, and a community network for kids who would otherwise have no one.

To “sum up,” here are some snapshots from this week:

SUNDAY NIGHT: Where orphan ministry meets the Church.

Four of our older girls are crowded into a small covered booth at the back of a cafe in town, where Loving Community Church is holding its 10th birthday party. One of the girls – Olga, petite in a black jacket, with shiny black hair and black-rimmed glasses – has a four-year-old boy, Vanya, and he runs all over, weaving between the grown-ups’ tall legs. “Aunt Ira,” another of our girls, has her eye on Vanya. Katya, who went to beauty school, is tall and elegant, with impeccable long dark hair. Blond Yulia is quiet; she is pregnant and starting to show. All four of these girls plus one other share an apartment. With staff help they have learned how to manage life together. Another of our graduates, Masha, sits in a row of chairs in the middle of the cafe, leaning over and talking with a church member. Several Last Bell staff are there, and many people from other churches have come to help Loving Community celebrate the occasion. This is a church where all are welcome, even those who wouldn’t belong elsewhere. So our girls, though they are mostly quiet and stay to the back, are part of the ins and outs of conversation, part of the larger swirl of the Church.

MONDAY: What it means to have neighbors.

Masha shows up, sometime in the middle of the day, to use the shower. She has found a place to sleep in a place like a public dorm (not associated with a school), but often the water goes out or there is only cold water. And what do we do if our neighbor has a need? What about when, as during the recent hurricane in New England, you need somewhere to go in case of evacuation – or even just someone to make sure you’re okay? For these kids, Last Bell staff have become their neighbors, not just the people they see at Shelter or Haven a couple times a week. And, as good neighbors do, we don’t let Masha just shower and go on her way. Someone has chopped up a colorful bowl of vegetables – sweet peppers, cucumbers – and I nudge the bowl toward Masha, a gesture for which language is not needed. She munches along with the rest of us before she leaves.

TUESDAY: Sticking around.

We are at the Haven, where a pale wooden spiral staircase leads up to a large, open family room. We Americans are sitting around the periphery of the family room with some Ukrainian staff and a couple of the kids who have arrived early. From the stairwell, several boys come into view, bobbing up the steps one at a time: first a couple that I don’t recognize, then Vitya, whom I have known for maybe ten years, and for whom I am a Prayer Partner. Vitya accepts a hug from me, but a complicated-looking arm-shake from a couple of the other staff, and I make a mental note about how to greet teenage boys. Several times over the next two hours, Vitya asks photographer Ellen to take his picture with Americans. Yep, still fundamentally the same kid I knew all those years ago at camp.

Whatever I may think I know about Vitya, the Haven staff are the ones who know him in the determined way of family-by-choice. He has been with Haven for over a year now, and they will continue to pay attention and pursue a relationship with him. Many people have drifted in and out of our kids’ lives, but, whatever it may take to prove it to them, this family is for keeps.

WEDNESDAY: Community takes effort.

Some of the Shelter staff – Ira, Andre, and Oksana – are sitting at the table in the Shelter kitchen, along with Olga, our translator, and director Liz. I need to talk to them briefly about the newsletter. Very briefly – because they look so very tired. They have already been meeting all day, making plans for the fall. Most parents work hard to help their kids succeed, to learn what they need to learn so they can do well when they leave home to be on their own. These Shelter staff have been raising forty-plus teenagers, all at the same time.

THURSDAY: Easing into the world of work.

Katya comes over with all her beauty supplies. She is going to dye my hair and cut Mary’s. This is a good way for us to spend a little time with her, plus it’s a working day’s wages. She sets me up on a stool in the hallway, under a light and in front of a mirror, where I can watch her work. As she begins painting my hair with the dye, she frowns and calls in Liz from the other room: she might not have enough dye. So Liz goes back to the store for another box, a cheaper brand this time, and Katya adds the paint from the new box, fussing and worrying. She cuts Mary’s hair for a long time, until my dye is set and I’ve washed it all out. From the bathroom I can hear Liz translating: “She says to be honest. Do you like it?” Mary says she won’t know until she’s dried it. But Katya is insistent that Mary is lying and it is terrible. My hair is great, and I tell her so – but she won’t believe me, just shakes her head. We all keep telling her that she did a great job. She is still too unsure of herself, still new to her profession; she needs this network of Last Bell family and extended family to keep encouraging her, to help her make her way into full-time work.

FRIDAY: The art of eating out.

We are supposed to visit a trade school, but two of our boys who live there tell us that the matron isn’t going to let us in. So we take a few pictures outside, and then Haven assistant housedad Vitya says we are all going to have the “best coffee in Zhytomyr.” We walk several blocks to a tiny dark cafe, where we order our drinks and then go sit at two tables in the back. Vitya, director Liz, and two of our boys sit at the same table. We are essentially getting a sneak peak at a “one on one” session, which in this case is “two on two”: individual time for staff to get to know kids in a quiet, anonymous setting. After a while someone explains the conversation they are having. Vitya is teaching them about restaurant etiquette: how to order, and how to help the waitress take your dirty dishes by putting them out at the edge of the table. This is so second-nature that I would have taken it for granted; but these boys never went out to eat while they lived at the internat (boarding school), so how would they know? These one-on-one times are vital for our kids, who have missed out on so much, growing up without family.

Watch for shorter blogs coming soon!

-Emily