A PE RS ONAL J OURNEY
by Charlotte Kovalchuk • charlotte@myjarrell.com
Going Home... For the First Time
Charlotte Kovalchuk is the senior writer for My Jarrell. Her mother emigrated from Ukraine in 1991 and shared her first return home with her two daughters. Following are Charlotte's personal reflections on her first visit to her mother's home country this past December.
G
rit is defined by Merriam Webster as a firmness of mind or spirit, unyielding courage in the face of hardship or danger. It’s a fitting description for my family in Ukraine. Growing up, I heard stories about how my great-grandparents survived the Ukrainian famine in 1932 by eating grass soup, how my mom and her family faced rejection from society because they were Christians and refused to become communists. Later, despite heavy influence against practicing Christianity, and the requirement to be a communist in order to get a college education, my mother found a way to go to college anyway. As an English major, I especially loved the story of my grandfather putting up a portrait of Ukrainian 36
poet Taras Shevchenko on his wall in defiance of Russia’s cultural repression. In 1991, my mom left her home to trade that cultural and religious oppression for American prosperity, not knowing it would be 30 years before she would find her way back home, this time with two daughters in tow.
CULTURE SHOCK My mom did the best she could to prepare my sister and I for Ukraine— including warning us that if we acted like American pedestrians and took the right of way in front of a driver, we would die. And, after listening patiently to my attempts at speaking Ukrainian, saying, “Don’t try to talk to anyone, honey.” Nothing could have fully prepared me, though, for the adventure and gift of Ukraine.
M A R C H 2022 M Y JA R R ELL M O NT HLY
Knowing Ukraine is a close-knit country with multi-generational homes, I was still surprised how many people lived in my Aunt Natalya’s tiny apartment. Along with my mom, sister, and me, ten family members got to know each other pretty well over two weeks in December and January—as well as we could with the language barrier. That barrier was especially difficult during church, as services were twice as long as they are here in Texas and I couldn’t understand a word of it. Still, I could feel everyone’s zeal for God. People knelt and prayed out loud together, and instead of heralding the new year with a countdown and cheers, they prayed their way into 2022.
