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Testimony
Margaret Jones
A ministry targeting young people around the world,
sharing the Love of God in Word and Deed.
For
two
weeks
this
summer,
home
was
an
a-frame
cabin
in
the
Crimean
Mountains
of
Ukraine.
My
bedroom
was
shared
with
four
new
friends
who
came
from
various
parts
of
America.
Our
neighboring
A-frame
housed
our
Ukrainian
team
members.
My
laundry
room
was
a
red
rubber
tub
and
a
clothes
line.
My
kitchen
was
a
cafeteria
shared with many children. Life was definitely different than the life I was used to.
There
are
some
places
where
the
goodness
of
God
can
easily
be
seen.
There
are
some
circumstances
where
God’s
finger
prints
are
obvious.
However
at
Camp
Gorney,
the
evidence
of
our
loving
Heavenly
Father
is
much
harder
to
see and I had to look through new eyes.
This
camp
was
different
from
the
camps
I
had
attended
as
a
child.
Here
no
parents
came
to
drop
their
children
off,
double-checking
to
be
sure
that
they
had
enough
bug
spray,
band
aids,
and
a
jacket,
just
in
case
it
got
cold
at
night.
At
Camp
Gorney,
a
van
brought
the
children
up
as
a
group.
There
were
no
backpacks,
sleeping
bags
or
new
outfits
purchased for camp. They piled out of the
van and were placed into what they ironically called “family groups.” But no one fussed over them individually.
This
camp
doesn’t
last
one
or
two
weeks.
These
children
will
live
at
Gorney
for
three
months.
There
were
no
horses
to
ride
or
paddle
boats
to
take
out
on
a
lake; but there were beautiful mountains.
Camp
Gorney
is
a
camp
for
orphans.
Many
of
these
children
have
spent
six
or
more
summers
here.
At
the
end
of
camp,
they
will
pile
back
into
the
vans
and return to their orphanages to begin a new school year and another year of hoping, dreaming that someone, somewhere, will want them in their family.
For
two
weeks,
I
had
the
privilege
of
stepping
into
their
world.
What
I
found
were
children
whose
childhood
was
interrupted
by
trauma.
Some
had
weathered
their
traumas
better
than
others.
The
first
night
there,
one
of
the
boys
tried
to
take
his
life
but
failed.
However,
his
trail
of
blood
stains
the
pavement
as
a
testimony
to
the
depth
of
his
despair.
Some
children
had
siblings
with
them
at
camp,
while
others
had
no
one
in
the
world
they
could
call
a
family.
I
was
amazed
at
the
willingness
of
the
children
to
trust
us
and
want
to
be
with
us.
It
was
easy
to
look
into
the
eyes
of
each
child
and
tell
who
had
hope
and who had given up on ever having a family and home. For two weeks, I simply offered them the love of Jesus Christ and the arms of a mama.
I
fell
in
love
with
all
of
them,
some
more
than
others.
I
can’t
tell
you
how
many
back
rubs
I
gave,
or
hugs
and
kisses.
I
do
know
my
American
“space”
was invaded everyday and I began to enjoy the closeness.
My
heart
was
broken
as
I
saw
little
8
and
9
year
old
girls
spending
their
evenings
at
“Disco”
learning
to
dance,
instead
of
having
someone
read
them
bedtime
stories.
I
cried
many
mornings
when
having
time
with
the
Lord,
as
I
prayed
for
these
children.
Given
a
chance,
many
of
these
children
would
make it. Given a family, many would thrive.
The
children
of
Camp
Gorney
are
resilient,
creative,
funny,
full
of
life
and
eager
to
learn.
My
prayer
for
the
least
of
these
is
that
others
will
pick
up
the
burden for them and many will find their way into loving, Christian families. There are blessings waiting for you, if you choose to love these children.
