Life in Ukraine has been exhausting, with weary souls filling the sidewalks—men and women burdened by more than just the weight of war. But there is refuge. A haven where they find not only hot meals and a safe place to sleep, but peace that reaches deeper: rest for the heart, through God’s Word and the compassion of His people. Here, in this quiet shelter, hope is reborn. Strength is restored. Courage flickers back to life. Even in the deepest shadows, He remains our guiding light. What follows is the story of a woman who clung to that light—Christ’s light—when all around her felt like night.

Alla

My name is Alla. I am a mother of four children and a refugee. Three and a half years ago, we left our home to the sound of explosions as the occupation shook our village in an iron embrace. Our youngest son was only three years old. He was sitting in a stroller, and I walked with all the children to another town. I remember that way, as through tears I prayed for every next step and asked God for strength and protection.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me (Psalm 23:4).

My husband couldn’t go to the front. As the father of a large family, he had a legal right to stay. But after what we saw in the occupation, he couldn’t stand aside. His decision was final. He said, “I must protect you and our land.” I didn’t argue. I was just praying. We did this with tears, but with understanding.

Later, he was reported missing for over a year. Every day for us was somewhere between “hope” and “fear.” I prayed, searched for information, asked the military, and held my children who asked: “Mom, when will Dad return?” And a month and a half ago, we found out the truth. His body was transferred during the exchange. He was identified only by his DNA. These are terrible words for any wife, for any mother. This year, we buried him—with a broken body, but with dignity

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends (John 15:13).

I was alone, without my husband. Children are without a father. We rented a small apartment, which is often cold. We live on state payments for refugees. When it seems that there is no more strength, the Lord sends support through people, prayers, and help at the most difficult moment.

I don’t know what will happen next. But I know God holds my hand. And I won’t give up. Because of my children, because of my husband’s memory, because of the light that will come, I must move on. We’re alive. We believe. We’re holding on. And we are waiting for the day when instead of fear there will be peace, instead of loss. Healing, instead of tears. Because if God leads, the pain will pass.”

For I am the Lord your God who holds you by the right hand and says to you, Do not be afraid (Isaiah 41:13).