Crystal the Artist

Short Stories from Ukraine: Long story short, I arrived in Ukraine safely. Upon my arrival, I was roomed with a young woman in a college dormitory near where supplies for refugees were being stored. On my first night on campus my roommate invited me (in Russian translated through Viber) to worship and communion at the home of a couple she knew. We walked through the streets of Ukraine as the sun went down. My only navigation was my new roommate. She was sweet, beautiful, and hospitable. Together we shared the words for "right" and "left" in our own languages as we made turns on our walk. We giggled. We smiled. We enjoyed each other's company. Soon we arrived at our destination and were buzzed through a locked door. The flight of stairs we fumbled up were barely lit. Each step, stair after stair, was deliberate so as to not trip as we spiraled up a few flights to the couple's apartment. We were welcomed in and offered house slippers to change into. Communion

Did I really travel solo to Romania with no lodging lined up? And did I really stay the night at the home of my driver's family? Did I leave the next day with a perfect stranger, and cross the border into Ukraine? Did I really have no idea what I was doing? Where I was going? Who I was meeting? Or how I would return? Did I really end up in a college dormitory with a young woman who could only speak Russian? And was I picked up the next day by more new people? And did I really finally see firsthand the work of those serving refugees? Did I really hear the stories in foreign languages? Did I follow their gestures? Did I receive their thanks? Their complaints? Their tears? Their smiles? Did I watch shell shocked children blossom during a day designed for them? Did I walk the streets of Ukraine alone? Did I really enter strangers' vehicles in foreign countries? Did I adventure and get mistaken for a spy? Did I meet friendly people who welcomed me into their homes? Who fed me? Whose

When I sit down to type my stories, I still cannot believe that my experience was real. It feels like a dream. Months of planning and fundraising and hoping and praying and quickly moving towards an unknown destination. A 20 day whirlwind of traveling, with Ukraine at the center, and I'm left trying to put into words everything that got cram packed into my heart and mind in such a short amount of time. My biggest take away just might be that when God stirs your heart, make sure you leap. The unknown is not as terrifying as a life unlived. Yesterday I ran into the man who originally inspired my trip by sharing his own stories on his social media. After his return from Romania and Ukraine, he and I had somehow independently planned back to back trips to the same area, leaving within a day of each other. He planned personal travel before his return to serving, and I had planned personal travel after my initial trip to Romania and Ukraine. Without knowing, we almost took the same fligh

Ten years ago, a dream was paced in my heart to return to school for business so I could learn how to develop an organization that would help meet the needs of the most vulnerable. I had a heartstring dedicated to serving single mamas and their children, and I was currently doing everything I could to help support the ones that I knew in my own life. As a married woman with four young children under wing, my service to others often looked like providing childcare alongside my own children. This showed up in my life as opening my home to others, sometimes even during odd hours of the day and night. I was happy to help, knowing that my home was a safe place for struggling mamas to leave their children while they worked hard at a job or at pursuing a continuing education. Little did I know just what my own education would entail to get me to the place of service where I desired to be. Two years into my return to school, I found myself facing extenuating circumstances. With a full educatio

A familiar voice woke me from my sleep. It washed across me like a warm rain; each drop refreshing dry, parched soil. Given life once again, the dirt slowly molded to the words which woke me.  As clear as day, the message sang renewal and hope into my weary soul. Etching themselves upon my heart, the lyrics pierced through layers and stirred the dormant seeds beneath the surface. "You are a skin of love stretching across all. Soft and tender, you are able to feel pain. You are scratchable, you bruise, you burn.  When one part is threatened, you are the first to stand guard and protect. You feel, you wince, you weep, and though a fire burns through you, you do not relent your position, because in time you know you will heal and cover all with love." "You stretch from fingertips to toes. Soft caresses are delivered through you; hope touching down to the worn and needy. Thick callouses know your wisdom of trial after trial; delivering strength and endurance to the parts whi

The other day I told my story in depth to another new therapist that I've been seeing for a couple months now. It was shared without tears, stated without question, spoken matter of factly. After I was done filling in the details, she stopped me and said, "I understand better now. In your charts it says you had a psychotic break, and I want to be sure that you understand now that you didn't just have a psychotic break, you suffered deeply from PTSD, which lead into a state of psychosis." God, I love my new therapist. She went on to explain that as we tell our stories and start to open up about the traumas that we have suffered through, we begin to understand better and normalize tragedies that women (and men too) everywhere face. We begin to understand that there hasn't been something wrong with us, but there was a lot of wrong done to us. I said, "Yeah, Brene Brown also had a break down and look where she is now!" She is doing so much great work that im