This is the second installment in Tetiana's series on her visit to Ukraine.
I arrived in Rivne to find my colleagues from Mission Without Borders Ukraine already waiting, ready to take me to meet the first family on my list. We drove out of the city, and before long the asphalt gave way to a narrow dirt road, our car easing past small, tin roofed houses scattered along the way.
In ordinary times, villages like this one fill up with children every summer: grandparents' houses packed with grandchildren sent for the school break, streets loud with games that need nothing more than bare feet and imagination. This village was quiet. Too quiet for July. Many families, I was told, no longer send their children to relatives the way they once did. The war has rearranged even the small, ordinary rhythms of a Ukrainian summer.
As we pulled up to Hanna's house, that quiet broke. Her children came running out before the car had even stopped, a small crowd of them, all at once. Not all of them, though. Pavlo, the eldest at nineteen, was at work. Petro, thirteen, was asleep inside after an early morning shift helping at the local farmers' market; he hadn't yet had the chance to get some proper rest. It was a small detail, but it told me something about this household before Hanna said a word: even the teenagers here carry a share of the load.
Maksym, four, and Vladyslava, eight, appointed themselves our porters, insisting on helping carry the bags we'd brought: food, hygiene supplies, school backpacks, clothes. Maksym could barely lift his bag off the ground, but he refused every offer of help, dragging it the last few steps toward the house like it was the most important job in the world.
Six Children, One Mother, No Help
Hanna is forty, raising six children on her own: Pavlo, nineteen; Sofia, sixteen; Petro, thirteen; Anhelina, twelve; Vladyslava, eight; and Maksym, four. The family recently moved into this small house, which is still bare in places. MWB had just helped them get a mattress, one of those quiet, unglamorous gifts that make an enormous difference to a household with six children and not enough beds.
Hanna picks up seasonal work when she can find it, but there's no one to help her with the children, and she can't leave them home alone. She keeps a vegetable garden and a small flock of chickens, tending both while running a household that never quite stops needing her. Her older children help where they can, Pavlo at his construction job, Petro with his summer morning shifts, but the weight of the family ultimately rests on her.
She added that MWB's support has remained a steady source of stability, encouragement, and hope for her family, something she can return to again and again, not something that arrived once and disappeared.
Cake Dreams and Garden Plans
Anhelina, twelve, was still wearing her T-shirt from the Mission Without Borders summer camp she'd attended with her brother Petro. When I asked what she liked most about camp, she didn't hesitate: every moment, playing with other kids, praying, singing, making new friends, and the bungee rope. She attends Sunday school at church and shared her dream with unguarded confidence: she wants to become a confectioner, baking cakes for her mother and siblings. Hanna laughed at that, a warm laugh, the kind you'd expect from a mother who's heard the dream before and loves her daughter for having it anyway.
Sixteen year old Sofia dreams of becoming a landscape designer, and her creativity already shows in small, practical ways: she's begun helping her mother reimagine the family garden, suggesting where to plant flowers, redesigning borders, finding new ways to make their little outdoor space more beautiful. Eight year old Vladyslava loves summer and pitches in wherever her mom needs her. Four year old Maksym is starting to discover his own passions too. He loves to draw, and like most four year olds, he's endlessly curious about everything around him.
Our coordinator, Pavlo, summed the family up simply: they're doing everything they can, working hard, holding things together, and Mission Without Borders steps in where the gaps are widest.
A Faith That Holds Them Together
The family's move to this new house meant leaving behind more than a familiar street. In their previous village, Hanna's mother and the children had belonged to a local church, a community they'd known for years. Settling into a new place meant starting that over too.
Pavlo made a point of helping the children find their footing in the church community here, introducing them to the local congregation so they wouldn't lose that sense of belonging in the move. Anhelina, in particular, has taken to it. She attends Sunday services on her own initiative now, something she's genuinely sought out rather than simply been brought along to.
At the end of our visit, we prayed together. It's a small, ordinary practice, but repeated often enough that it's become one of the steadiest things about every visit here. Hanna credits it, quietly but clearly, as one of the things that keeps hope within reach for her family.
What I Carried Away
I expected to meet a family defined by what war and hardship had taken from them. Instead, I met a family defined by hope.
I met a girl who dreams of baking beautiful cakes, another who imagines designing gardens, a little boy who wants to draw everything he sees, and two older brothers already working hard to help support their family. None of this erases the daily challenges Hanna faces. But it reminded me of something important: when families receive practical, emotional, and spiritual support, they gain more than help for today. They gain the freedom to believe in tomorrow.
As we prepared to leave, Vladyslava, Anhelina, Sofia, and Maksym walked us back to the car, lingering as though none of us wanted the visit to end. Hanna stood quietly in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, watching her children the way mothers do: with love, gratitude, and an instinctive need to make sure every one of them was safe.
Thanks to the faithful generosity of Canadian sponsors, Hanna isn't walking this journey alone. Her children have the essentials they need for school and everyday life, but they've received something even greater: the reassurance that they're seen.
