A small group crossed the border into Ukraine on February 27. What we didn’t know at the time was that this would be the first trip of many.

As tears fell down my new friend’s cheeks, I stepped forward and hugged her. Her heart broke with grief over the war in Ukraine and its impact on her family and community.

We made the decision to spread the word, asking for volunteers to come and drive food over the border. The way that people responded to this call and how quickly has truly been a godsend.

Sometimes things cannot be truly understood until they are experienced. Simply hearing statistics and facts can lead people to say, “That’s terrible” or “Those poor dears.” Perhaps the words are heartfelt, but nothing is done.

What can be said about a place that brings equal amounts of pain and joy? A place that serves as a wait station between certain harm and a new life. A place that is meant to grow life, but in turn contains it, making a jail of canvas walls and good intentions.

Walking into the Yazidi (learn about the Yazidis here) refugee camp at Petra Olympus, volunteers and visitors would be bombarded by the sheer number of children.

Katerini, Greece, has been a home for refugees for almost a century. After the Greco-Turkish war, people living in Turkey with Greek ancestry had to return to their forefather’s land. They came with very little, to people unable—and perhaps unwilling—to lend a hand.

This wasn't my first trip to Serbia, but it felt completely new. The first time I went was as part of a Houghton College trip. This time, I was alone, and that knowledge made everything around me seem much bigger.

Have you ever feared for your life? Have you ever wondered if your child would survive past 15?

As Christians, we have a great message to those who are without hope. We have Jesus Christ in our lives and hundreds of years of the Christian heritage of the ministry of hospitality.

I can’t help but think of the journey of the Israelites, not having a “home,” only the hope for the Promised Land.