A window into war

Maia Mikhaluk hadn’t been outside of her country since Russian troops invaded with guns and bombs in February. But the 51-year-old Ukrainian mother was determined to visit her college-student son in the United States, despite her unease about traveling solo in a war zone. Men cannot yet leave Ukraine, so Maia’s husband, Nick, who co-pastors Church of Faith, Hope, Love in Kyiv, remained behind. The rackety 12-hour train ride from Kyiv to the Polish border kept Maia from sleeping.

Though she set off for America on her own, Maia has walked the hard road of war with many companions. Fluent in English, Maia has posted daily updates throughout the war, giving outsiders a window into life in a conflict zone. She is one of countless Ukrainians who have used social media to chronicle their personal experience of the Russian invasion.

Maia has more reporting experience than most. A self-trained photographer, she ­freelanced from 2014 to 2018 with CNN International. The Mikhaluks in 1997 founded International Partnerships, headquartered in Boone, N.C., to support church-planting work in Ukraine. Maia also serves as director of equipping with the global evangelism ministry Haggai International.

None of those credentials were enough to set her mind at ease as she crossed the countryside in late August en route to see her son. On the noisy train, she would awaken disoriented, thinking, Bombing?

Since the invasion began, Maia’s real-time reporting pulled in friends of friends on Facebook. She eventually tallied 39,000 ­followers, including me. “I wanted to rally prayer support for Ukraine and for our ­family,” she explains. “We had nowhere to run except to God!”

In March, as a Russian convoy grew closer to Kyiv, Maia wrote, “Our windows and walls are shaking.” She added photos of the family’s makeshift bomb shelter—the corridor between the couple’s seventh-floor apartment and an apartment belonging to their daughter and son-in-law, Sasha and Nikita.

Kyiv was soon cut off from supplies, and Sasha was 38 weeks pregnant. Social media followers pledged to pray.

On March 15, amid air raid sirens and a loud explosion nearby, Sasha went into labor. An ambulance rushed her to the ­hospital. Her mother later announced the safe arrival of “our beautiful miracle,” her first grandchild, Briana.

But as the war stretched on, Maia struggled with bitterness. She grew up in eastern Ukraine under Soviet oppression. “We are not going to ­c­­apitalize the first letter in words russia and russian, even if we have to fight our autocorrection,” she wrote in one post. Russian troops withdrew from Kyiv’s outskirts in early April and left devastation behind. Maia grieved over the town of Bucha: “Hundreds of dead bodies on the roads … land mines planted everywhere.”

When spring came, she posted ­photos of tulips and the colors of Kyiv. Churches began meeting again, and her videos of Sunday services featured worshippers dressed in Ukraine’s ­distinctive embroidered apparel.

Maia used her growing platform to share her faith. As she considered the Russian atrocities and the Bible’s ­teaching on forgiveness, she wrote, “Knowing how just my God is, I think I can with time let go of my anger to make room for God’s [wrath].”

The Mikhaluks’ church began reaching out to hurting communities, teaming with a partner church to pack food and supplies for damaged areas. Their weekly outings have included a gospel presentation and New Testaments supplied by the Gideons.

War-weary Ukrainians “have found it hard to smile,” Maia lamented. “But we focus on what we can do.” Through International Partnerships, churches and individuals from around the globe are supporting the efforts of the Mikhaluks’ church network in Ukraine.

Kyiv has faced threats of bombings for months, with air sirens piercing the night. Even so, as Ukraine’s Independence Day approached in August, citizens filled the streets ­“decorated” with destroyed Russian tanks and equipment.

On Sept. 1, Maia arrived in Kentucky and embraced her son for the first time in eight months. She later posted a video of strolling his Asbury University campus as its bell tower chimed “It Is Well With My Soul.”

Before she returned to Kyiv in mid-September, she spoke at a church in Roswell, Ga.—one of several she ­visited that support the Ukraine church-planting network. She told the gathered audience that during the crisis, her Kyiv church has found purpose in serving others. “We eagerly look for opportunities. We have become more of what we should be, caring for each other.”

She talked of other wartime victories as well: “You can be joyful despite the concerns. … Peace is not from yourself but from the One you trust.”

—Patti Richter is a journalist based near Atlanta, Ga.