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Gifts that COVID Gave Me: How I left Ukraine to avoid getting COVID, got it anyway, and what I gained Cheryl Warner Why is it sometimes hard to admit to having COVID? Charley and I first encountered this reticence among our Ukrainian friends where we serve as missionaries in suburban Kyiv. One Sunday in September a man in our small group sent out a prayer request saying, “I have been sick. Please pray for my wife, who is still sick.” She was hospitalized on Thursday and died on Saturday. The word “coronavirus” was never mentioned but understood, and we were all stunned by this news. Nina was suddenly gone, with no chance to say good-bye. Her family wasn't even allowed to see her body. Another friend in our small group developed COVID symptoms but was reluctant for me to ask others to pray for her. She recovered, thankfully. I was leading a study of the Gospel of Mark in our home on Wednesdays. We met cautiously, masked up and sometimes under blankets near the open windows. We had great gospel conversations, and a woman who had never studied the Bible before was beginning to understand who Jesus is. One evening we talked about Jesus’ power to heal and wrestled with the times when he doesn’t. Nina’s daughter was there that night, exhibiting an acceptance of her mother’s death that showed a profound trust in God and hope in the resurrection.
Rising Numbers and Tough Questions The virus was still raging and some in my Bible study became ill. After four weeks we began meeting on Zoom. By early October, the Ukrainian ministry of health was projecting that case numbers would double and even triple in the coming weeks, and the health care system was being overwhelmed. (Cases actually increased fivefold by December.) Many people disregarded health protocols, and we felt increasingly uncomfortable being near anyone and awkward about declining invitations. Charley has some underlying health conditions that put him at greater risk. We would probably have to put ourselves in quarantine. The prospect of a long winter in isolation was dreadful. What would happen if one of us got COVID and needed to be hospitalized? Who would look after us if we were both ill at home? How much of a burden would this place on our friends? Worst case scenario, in case of death abroad, what would be the impact on our family and our mission agency? We checked our travel insurance regarding, to be blunt, repatriation of remains. That was a nightmare to be avoided, if possible.
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We began to wonder if we should leave. We had stayed in Ukraine for the first seven months of the pandemic and were glad we had, but things were changing now. If we could never see anybody and were working entirely online, what was the point in being there? We could continue our ministry online from the U.S. and at least see our family. There were practical considerations related to housing and financial costs. We consulted with our mission leadership and prayed. When friends offered to sublet our house in Ukraine, that made it possible for us to leave. The College Church board of missions sprang into action and quickly found a place for us to live in Glen Ellyn, available at the right price and at the right time. Things that usually take months to arrange fell into place in a few days. We left Ukraine on October 15, breathing a sigh of relief. We went straight to Texas so we could see my mom in the nursing home, which was finally allowing limited visits. It had been a hard year for her as a new widow with no in-person contact with
