An Answer to Prayer

Last night was a night that I will never forget.  It was one of the scariest nights of my life.  I have never felt so helpless or legitimately scared for my own safety.  And yet, it also became such a testimony of Heavenly Father’s very real care for me and a reminder of his ability to answer my prayers more immediately and lovingly than I would ever have a right to expect. 

Last night was one of those bone-chilling Kyiv nights - freezing cold, rain off and on, and bitter wind.  And it’s only October.  I have a feeling it may be a long, cold winter.  Earlier that day, I had gone downtown with a friend named Christina and instead of trekking back to my host family’s house after we were done shopping, I decided to just relax and warm up at her apartment for a while.  We had talked about going to FHE or just around the city later that night, but when the time came, we just couldn’t stand the thought of braving the elements any more than absolutely necessary.  Along with two other teachers named Jamie and Haley, we decided to be bums instead.  I made some scrambled eggs and Jamie fried up tortillas and we made breakfast burritos (such a rarity in Ukraine!) and then just relaxed and began to watch a movie.  It was wonderful.  However, 10 PM rolled around and I decided that it was time for me to head home. 

Christina and Jamie (who are roommates) had planned to spend the night at a senior missionary couple’s home in Kyiv, so they decided to head over to the other apartment when I left.  We walked together to a trombine (like a trolley on tracks) stop and waited for the trombine – the senior missionary couple’s apartment was on the same line, but the opposite direction from me.  I hadn’t ever gone back to my apartment the way that they told me would be easiest, but I have grown fairly confident with the Ukrainian public transportation system.  In my mind, it was “no big deal.”  I knew that I had to get off in two stops and then walk to the Berestaiska metro stop.  No big deal.  So without any anxiety, I got myself on the trombine and got off in two stops.  And that’s where my problems began. 

I was the only person to get off the trombine, and when I stepped out of the bus, I found myself on a very deserted, dark, and lonely street corner in Kyiv.  There weren’t any shops or restaurants nearby (which I had been told there would be at the stop).  There was only a dilapidated bar with one drunk man sitting out front, a small bus stop with a bench, and one streetlight.  Everything about that corner screamed “bad news.”  I got a very sick “Todo, we’re not in Kansas anymore” feeling.  I was lost, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

I immediately said a prayer and then called Christina (who has been living in the city for the last 8 months and is fairly well-versed in all things Kyiv) and told her what was going on.  She quickly confirmed my fears- I had gone way too far and was quite a way from the metro stop.   Apparently at night, the trombines don’t stop at all their regular stops - a fact that I will NEVER forget.   I asked her what she thought I should do, and she told me that my best bet would be to walk back to the last trombine stop because the next one wouldn’t come for another 40 minutes or so if they hadn’t stopped for the night. 

I was terrified, but after looking up my location on the GPS on my phone (Best. Thing. Ever.) I decided that she was probably right – it was far away, but not more than a mile or two.  I began to walk towards the direction of the last trombine stop, but as I walked, the sidewalk turned into a small dark path surrounded by bushes and trees.   I sang hymns in my head, but my terror built with each step.  I reached a curve in the path and couldn’t see any more streetlights ahead and decided that there was no way I was going to go any further on that path.  I turned around and started walking quickly back towards the bus stop (a park bench with a tin roof covering it).  To add a whole new level to my uneasiness, as I turned around, I saw two men walking up the path towards me.  I told Christina that I couldn’t talk (I didn’t want them to hear me speaking English and know that I was and American) but I told her that I needed her to keep talking to me - I needed someone to talk to .  I don’t remember what she said, but I do remember being so grateful that I wasn’t doing this completely alone.  As the men approached, I kept my head down and walked like I had somewhere to be – praying that they wouldn’t look twice at me.  They passed me and I felt a small measure of relief.  I had just survived the first hurdle in a very long night. 

I made it back to the bus stop and decided that my best choice (because I was NOT willing to die on a path going back to the last trombine stop) was to wait for another trombine to take me back to where I needed to be.  I sat down on the bench and waited.  And waited.  And waited.   The stop itself was still deserted, but a little way off a group of men began yelling at each other.  It eventually turned into a full-out fistfight.   As each minute passed, I began to feel more anxious.

In desperation, I turned to the only source of comfort or help available to me – desperate, heartfelt prayers to my Heavenly Father.  Over the next two hours or so, I kept up a constant dialogue with Him.  I prayed for comfort.  I prayed for courage.  I prayed that somehow, I would make it to safety.  I prayed for direction.  I prayed for the ability to make good decisions.  I prayed for a way out.  I prayed that the people fighting on the street would leave me alone.  I prayed that this wasn’t how I would end up (and yes, that  is dramatic, but it seemed like such a real possibility to me at the time) - I stubbornly told Him that I refused to die this way – lost, alone, kidnapped, or attacked on a dark corner in the Ukrainian ghetto.  I prayed for a trombine, matsrutka, trolley, taxi, anything.  I prayed for help.  I prayed and I prayed. 

About twenty excruciatingly long and cold minutes passed, and there was no sign of any form of public transportation that could take me close to the right metro.  Each time I saw lights I would hope and hope and hope that it would be a way for me to get back, and each time another private car passed me, I felt my dread grow. 

I then noticed a man staggering towards the bus stop.  He was obviously drunk and I hoped that he would just pass me by.  No such luck - he headed in my direction and spoke to me loudly and angrily in Russian. I stood up and looked for any form of safety or help – he terrified me.  I told him to go away, but he kept coming at me.  At that exact moment, a woman walked up to a bus stop on the opposite side of the street and began to wait.  Without even pausing to consider what I was doing, I ran across the street and stood by her.  I asked her in Russian which direction the Beresteiska metro stop was, and she pointed back the way I expected.  I decided to stay by her – I felt so much safer with her around. 

The drunk man staggered across the street and approached me again, but before he could get too close, the woman intercepted him and told him to go away.  I was so thankful I could have cried.  Even though I was no closer to getting home, I felt that she was an answer to my prayers.  The woman and I stood in silence, waiting and waiting. 

After another forty minutes or so, I saw a matschrutka in the distance.  As it got closer, the woman motioned to it.  It stopped when I flagged it down, but as the doors opened, people literally fell out because it was so full.  As I moved towards the door, they began to shoo me away and scream at me in Russian.  It was hopeless to try to force my way on.  Then, to top it off, the matschrutka driver slammed the doors and drove off.  It got me pretty frustrated – why even stop if you knew nobody else could fit?!  It’s like dangling a carrot in front of my face and then ripping it away. 

Watching the matschrutka drive away was horrible.  I knew that because it had just passed, another one wouldn’t be coming for a LONG time.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I returned to the bus stop and stood by the Ukrainian woman.  Like before, she didn’t say anything to me, but even so, she was such a source of comfort.  As long as she was there, I wasn’t completely alone.  As long as she was there, there was someone to yell at the drunk men.  But I knew that comfort wouldn’t last much longer - I dreaded the time when she would leave and I would be by myself again.  I just prayed that maybe I would get out of this mess before she left.   Christina told me that I should just follow her wherever she went, but I didn’t like that idea.  It would get me even more lost (she obviously  wasn’t trying to get to the same place I was or else she would have tried to get on the matschrutka with me) and if not, she’d probably get super annoyed with me.  I really had no idea what I’d do after she left. 

By this point I was freezing.  It was below 0 degrees Celsius, and I could feel every breeze blow right through me.  My hands were literally blue.  I was wearing a light leather jacket and that was all.  No gloves, no scarf, no hat, nothing.  I hadn’t planned on getting stranded out in the freezing cold night.  My shivering was out of control. 

Another thirty minutes or so passed and I just focused on trying to stay warm.  


Then the moment I had been dreading arrived - a small Ukrainian beater car pulled up to the curb, flashed its lights, and the woman walked over to it and got in the front seat. 

In those few seconds, paranoia hit me hard.  What would I do when that drunk man came after me again?  How would I know which matschrutka to get on… if one even came again?  What if those men down the street stopped fighting and noticed me and then what?!  What if, what if, what if.

From inside the car, the woman looked back at me and made eye contact.   On my face must have been a look of complete terror and with all of my heart, I was screaming a silent prayer-  ‘please don’t leave me!  I can’t do this by myself!’  She must have seen and understood that look in my eyes because just as they were pulling away, she turned to the driver and asked him to stop.  Before I could understand what she was doing, she hopped out of the car, opened the back door and motioned for me to get in.

Now don’t judge me when I say I got in the car.  I know it was dumb.  I know it’s exactly what they tell you not to do.  I know I could have been the next American kidnapped in Kyiv.  Believe me, I know. 

But I didn’t even think about it.  No looking back here.  I honestly didn’t even realize the enormity of the situation until after I sat down and the door closed. 

But I knew that there was no way I’d make it without her.  I’d never know what bus to get on.  I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone with the drunk man and whatever other strangers passed by.  I know I scream ‘American’ just by looking at me – there’s no way to hide it - and being a 21-year-old American girl alone in Kyiv at a deserted bus stop at midnight is not a safe thing to be. 

Another part of me honestly knew that this woman was the answer to my prayers.  Right when I needed someone the most, she appeared.  When there was no reason for her to help me, she did.  I believed that my Heavenly Father was protecting me by sending her my way. 

So I got in the car. 

I only started to second-guess that autopilot decision after we had been driving for over 10 minutes.  I didn’t miss the stop by THAT much did I?  What if this really was a bad decision?  What if I’m going to be the next news story plastered across the Ukrainian and American newspapers?  Oh my goodness, the what ifs.

But I made myself keep calm.  Panicking now would do me no good. 

After a few more minutes, to my great relief, the car pulled over on the side of a road.  I had no idea where I was, but at the very least, I knew I wouldn’t be kidnapped, right?

The man driving the car turned around, looked at me, and began speaking in Russian.  I tried to communicate with him, but it wasn’t working.  I then resorted to the universal ‘I don’t know’ gesture and said Metro Beresteiska.  He then pointed off in the distance and said “Good Luck.” 

Good luck?!  What the heck?! 

But that was my cue to get out of the car, so after saying thank you multiple times in both English and Russian, I got out.  I found myself on another deserted dark corner, but at least there wasn’t a full out fistfight going on right?  And no drunk men that I could see.  So things were looking up for me.  I also thought that I must be at least somewhat close to the metro – why else would he leave me here? 

I began to look around, and pretty far off in the distance, I saw a glowing green M metro sign.  I can’t even explain to you the relief that flooded me at that moment.  Even though it was on the other side of a busy highway, even though the trains may have stopped running, and even though I had a long way to go, I knew that if I could make it there, I would survive the night.  At the very least, I would be able to tell someone where I was… which is a lot more than I could have done before. 

After wandering through underpasses, past a few more fights (it is ABSURD how much they fight here), and through a deserted outdoor market, I saw the stairs leading down to the metro.  My eyes welled up with tears for the first time that night – I was safe.  I would be warm.  I was alive.  And I might even be able to make it back to my apartment in the near future.  At that point, my prayers changed from pleading to thanks.  I had made it, and not because of anything I had done – it had been a complete miracle. 

I ran down the steps of the metro, through the turnstile, and to my relief, a metro train pulled up a minute later.  I’ve never been happier to get on a crowded, dirty, crammed, stinky bus in my life!  But at that moment, that metro car was heaven to me.  I really was going to survive the night. 

A few stops later, I got off at my stop, walked through the usual dark alleys and sidewalks and made it back to my apartment. 

It’s amazing the extremes you can feel – so much terror followed by so much relief. 

Heavenly Father is so good to me.  I couldn’t have made it out of that situation without Him.  There was no reason for that woman to stand on a street corner in the freezing night for an hour and a half waiting for her ride.  But she did.  There was no reason for her to help me.  But she did.  There was no reason I should have gotten in that car.  But I did.  There is no reason I should have felt safe with her.  But I did.  And I have complete confidence that Heavenly Father was in control of the situation.

 

I was forced to rely on the goodness and charity of complete and utter strangers, and that’s a terrifying feeling.  But I know that the Lord was protecting me and I know that I wouldn’t have made it out without His help.  I was in a horrible situation, and even though I felt so stranded and alone, I never was alone.  My heavenly father heard my desperate prayers and answered them  - more perfectly and promptly than I had a right to expect.  My Heavenly Father really does love me.