In 2003, I packed a small bag with a few changes of clothes, and my mom and I (and my 5-months pregnant belly) boarded a plane for a month-long adventure in Ukraine.
I had this dream, you see.I dreamed of writing a book – of telling the stories of the men and women whose history captivated me when I was sixteen years old. I wanted the world to hear their words, to glean the wisdom for living that these people could offer, from a perspective that was completely unique.
We landed on March 16, 2003, and for the next month, we toured through Central, Southern, and Western Ukraine. Each city we stayed in offered a new group of World War II veterans, of former partisans, and of survivors who happily met with us. I soaked in the fascinating stories of survival that these men and women offered.
For reasons that are too numerous to list, I was not able to compile all of these stories into one book like I wanted, but they became the backbone of my novel. They are the voices that I hear when I read my book, and they form the current that drives the novel from beginning to end.As I continue to push forward toward publication, I feel like it’s time to share some of these stories with you all.
These stories are more than just interesting recollections. They are ripe with wisdom for life. They dance with the bravery of a people that refused to give up, refused to be steam-rolled. Most of the people I spoke with were children when the war began. They were teenagers dreaming of the future.
I hope you can feel the power of their words, and appreciate the beauty of the human spirit. Sometimes I sit back in wonder at these first hand accounts I was given. These men and women, most of whom have since passed away, trusted me with their stories so that I would tell the people in the coming generations to come that life is truly a gift. It is to be treasured.
For the next four Mondays, I will be giving some of these stories to you. Today I share with you the courage, bravery, and spunk of a woman named Elizabeta Yepifanova:
The war began in 1941. Here in Ukraine, we were raised with a definite air of patriotism, much like Americans. There was a national hatred of those who wanted, and were trying, to occupy our Motherland.
When the Germans occupied our city (Vinnitsya), they took away all forms of communication from us. We had no radio, no newspapers, no way of receiving news from the front. But there existed many secret organizations, and those who smuggled radios listened and wrote out newsletters by hand and distributed them.
There was a library in Vinnitsya at that time named “Krupskaya Nadezda” after Lenin’s wife. A secret organization formed at this library under the leadership of Ivan Bevza. Because the organization worked undercover in the library, those of us involved had to make sure that we always walked in and out with a book in our hands. But instead of going in there to read or study, we were talking to Ivan Bevza and he would tell us the times and places where operations would take place. So the library was our partisan meeting center.
The Germans were very afraid of the partisans. We were unpredictable and well protected. They never knew where we would strike next…
I remember a certain episode in my many years as a partisan when my friend, Sophia, and I met two German soldiers who thought we were quite pretty. We worked out a plan that seemed so simple at the time, but now I realize that it was quite dangerous.
We invited the two Germans to our apartment and they readily accepted. We prepared some food for them and when they came, we immediately had them take off their coats and get comfortable. I guess they naively believed that women weren’t a threat to them because they left their guns in the foyer with their coats.
Not long into our evening together, I excused myself to go to the neighbors to borrow something. Instead, I grabbed one of the officers’ guns and left, quickly racing across town to the meeting place.
After a few moments, Sophia excused herself saying she was going to get me. She grabbed the other gun and also left, but she was afraid she wouldn’t make it across town fast enough so she went to the top of the building and hid.
A few moments later, the Germans came running out of the building – frantic. This incident earned us positions of leadership in the partisan camp. We participated in numerous operations such as that one, where we played on the foolishness of innocent young German boys. It was great fun.
What I want young people today to know and understand is that this life is a gift. It can change in an instant. You must know what you believe, and why you believe it, and when the time comes to defend the ones you love, it’s okay to be afraid. Courage is always victorious over fear, and it comes in the moment you least expect. This is what I want young people to know.
Last October, I wrote a 31 Day series on becoming an author. Writing those posts unlocked something inside me – something that I’d rolled up and tucked away in the corner of my heart a long time ago.
I remembered that I wanted to be a writer.
I was a freshman in college in 1996. Yes, I’m publicly admitting my age right now. I’m feeling brave.
I got my first email address that year, and it took me the entire first semester of college to figure out how to use the blasted thing. I would walk to The Sub in the middle of Baylor Campus and click on that little ‘e’ button, and then wonder what the heck I was supposed to do next on this odd little contraption called the internet.
By 1998, my junior year, I’d learned relatively little about using the internet. Nice, huh? Outside of finally figuring out my Baylor issued email address, I could not for my life manage to search the web without going in circles and ending up frustrated. As I headed to Kiev, Ukraine for a fall study abroad, I finally had someone help me set up my very first email address that wasn’t linked to the school.
I got my little hotmail address up and running, then jetted off to the other side of the world with big promises of staying in touch with everyone. I quickly found an internet cafe located not too far from my school in the heart of Kiev, and once a week I paid for an hour of time on the computer. 45 minutes of that time was spent trying to find Hotmail, just so I could sign into my account.
I had no idea that I could just type in the web address on the top of the page. Instead, I would go to Google (or Yahoo – I can’t remember which one was popular then) and I would type in the word “hotmail.” Then I would follow link after link until I somehow, mercifully, found my way to the hotmail home page.
For two months, I used this roundabout method to check my email before I finally figured out the easy way to search the web and my life was revolutionized completely.
I tell you this to help you understand that I never, ever dreamed that I would one day write on the internet. This was not on my radar. I left college with dreams of writing books.
Then I had a baby, and another one, and another one, and I came to the realization that writing books is hard to do when you only have ten minutes of alone time each day (and those ten minutes were usually spent locked in my closet with my eyes closed tight, praying that God would make me a bird so I could fly far. Far, far away…).
So I took to writing on the internet, and I found that I loved it. I got to enjoy utilizing my craft, release a little pent up frustration (in the form of humorous stories), and make so many friends along the way.
But deep down inside I knew that I was meant to do more with this thing called writing.
It can be wildly discouraging and frustrating to be online these days when it seems every third person is releasing their book while I wait and wonder if mine will ever be picked up. It’s a timing thing, a finding the right person thing, a patience thing – I know all these “things,” and yet I find myself so impatient for that next step.
Passion is a funny beast. Passionate living points you in a direction and requires much more than a simple obsession. It takes more than hard work, more than bravery, more than talent. Passion requires belief.
Passion requires you to direct your energy with purpose toward the thing you want to pursue.
Living a life of purpose means living a life in pursuit of those things that make you feel alive, and we are all jolted alive by different things. Have you found your passion? Have you found the one thing (or several things!) that gets your heart pumping, your pulse racing, and pushes you purposefully forward each day?
Don’t be afraid to chase after your passions, and for those of you who, like me, are pursuing them but feel like you’re slogging through the mire of discouragement, keep pressing forward. Pursue because you love what you do, not because you love the rewards. Yes, the rewards are icing on the cake, but here’s the thing:
For the most part, the focus of this blog will remain on the endeavors in which I find inspiration. I also want to focus on YOU. I want to hear your stories, to hear your dreams, your plans, and your goals, and I want to feature them here in this space. Because inspiration is elusive at times, and it takes on so many different forms.
Many times, we find our greatest inspiration in one another.
If you have a story to tell, a project to share that you’re particularly passionate about, or a dream that you’re working toward that you would like to share with this community of inspiration seekers, please click the box that says Connect and let me know! I’d love to have you guest post, or to write a feature post on your behalf.
In addition to dream chasing, inspiration seeking, and story telling, I will intersperse my every day life here in this space as well. I still want to record the happenings of life so that as I get older (and, let’s face it, more senile), I can look back and remember the joys, the trials, the humor, and all the living that took place in our home and community.
With that said, I’m 14 weeks pregnant now.
What?!
On the one hand, I feel like it’s flying by, and on the other I find myself completely over it. Remember, I didn’t really want to do the pregnancy thing again. This wasn’t my plan. Add to that the fact that I feel crummy all. the. ever. lovin’. time, and you can understand why I may be a tad weary.
I’m not complaining. I’m just telling it like it is. I feel nauseous from the moment my feet hit the floor to the second my head hits the pillow. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I get headaches frequently, and I have had to make myself start choking down vitamins this week because I know that I need to.
But enough about that.
The silver lining is that I’m pushing full steam into the second trimester, and if I remember correctly, all this should begin to subside here shortly.I’ve also tiptoed into the world of Essential Oils, and in just a few days I’ve begun to notice a marked difference in how I feel thanks to the help of a little oil called Lavender.
Things are looking up.
And smelling lovely.
Boy or Girl?
We should be able to find out if we’re having a boy or girl in the next seven weeks or so. If I had to make a prediction right now, I’d say girl, because Tia also dragged me through the ringer of insomnia and nausea, while my boy pregnancies were always smooth sailing.
Truthfully, I will be thrilled either way. I’d love to have a girl because I’ve always wished I had a sister, and I’d love my daughter to have the benefit of that which I do not. But I also adore little boys, and I’ve fallen in love with a certain boy name, so I’m game for either one.
As if I have a choice, right?
Emotionally, I’m doing fairly well. I have moments of intense excitement when I think of having a baby in the house again. Then there are moments of intense panic when I think of having a baby in the house again!
I’m filled with gratefulness that the Lord chose to bless us with another child, yet I still wrestle with the conflicting emotions of longing to adopt, and not understanding why that feeling remains so strong.
The beauty of pregnancy is that there is time to work through all of this before baby comes home. We’re headed into a new season filled with so much joy and blessing. A little bit of nausea is all worth it in the end, and in the meantime I will keep on offering up prayers of thankfulness for the beauty and the trial, both of which are knit tightly together, intertwined so that one cannot operate without the other.
Happy Wednesday, everyone. It’s almost Friday! That’s always cause for celebration.
