Never Feel Forgotten
Sometimes just knowing you aren’t forgotten is the best gift ever! For children who are living in war-torn Ukraine, SGA-supported Immanuel’s Child celebrations became more than the gifts and the games. It became a small piece of “normal” for them.
Life for these children on most days and nights can be filled with fear and anxiety, always waiting for the next air-raid siren or to be awakened by the loud noises of rockets or drones. Ordinary things like going for a walk without the fear, uninterrupted and peaceful sleep, or just being able to laugh and play carefree are distant memories.
So when these children were able to gather for the Christmas celebrations, a piece of normal came with it. For just a little while, they were taken back to a place where they felt safe and loved. In their everyday routines they feel forgotten.
But for these moments, they learned they weren’t forgotten by people and most importantly, they aren’t forgotten by God. They listened to the Gospel message, a message of hope. Please pray for these children. Pray that the little moments spent with the churches over Christmas will become a lifetime of hope through faith in Jesus Christ, where they never feel forgotten.
Anton, 9
Anton is from Zaporizhzhia, a frontline city where childhood is marked not by school breaks, but instead by the quiet moments between rounds of sirens. Anton is the oldest child in the family, and at just nine years of age, he already knows when to act like an adult. He has a little sister and brother. When things get dangerous, he helps his little brother down the stairs, takes his sister by the hand, and tries to calm them down, saying, “Everything will be okay. We’re together.”
Their family is one of the underprivileged ones. For them, the question is not about “things I want,” but “what I need” — bread on the table, warm clothes to wear, and some heat in the house. Both parents do their best, but the war cost them their jobs, stability, and peace of mind. At times, it seems that the hardest thing is not the cold or lack of light, but the feeling that life has been on hold for far too long.
But Anton is just a kid. He likes it when things are peaceful at home, when he can have fun with his little brother, be a good big brother for her sister, and just daydream. His biggest dream of all is pretty simple: he wants nights without waking up because of bombing, and for his mum not to cry about how they’re going to make it through the next week.
Today, Anton is holding a small gift in his hands and seems to forget about the war for a moment. It is not just a gift—it is a sign that someone cares about him, that even in a frontline city where children hide from drones, there are people who care, who want to help, who want to give them Hope.
After all, Anton is not a statistical figure or a “case.” He is a 9-year-old boy who wants to live in safety. He loves his brother and sister. And he deserves a childhood, exactly like every kid in Ukraine.
Masha, 10
Masha lives in Zaporizhzhia, with her mother and grandmother. Her father is a soldier who is now defending Ukraine on the front lines.
Like for many other kids in Ukraine, for Masha, the war has long ceased to be just “news on TV”—it fills her daily life with sirens, fear, windows shaking from explosions, and sudden awakening at nighttime that make her heart pound with such force that it seems the sound can be heard from every room in the house.
Masha is very grateful for the gift. She holds it carefully, as if it were not merely a present, but a small piece of a normal child’s life. At such moments, a quiet light shines on her face—a brief moment when she can forget about the war sirens.
But the truth is that she lives in continuous fear: she is scared when gunfire breaks out, drones and rockets fly overhead, or when Russian forces advance. Loud noises make Masha flinch; she listens intently to the sounds above, and just stays silent and holds her mother’s hand tighter.
At home, they have a flashlight, some drinking water, and a charged phone ready to go. Masha is learning to live in a new reality: studying online, which is interrupted at times; making plans is dependent on things “staying steadily calm”; and going for walks while being aware of any alarms.
She misses the ordinary things: being able to go for long walks without checking notifications; being able to sleep through the night fearlessly; being able to laugh loudly without thinking that danger is lurking nearby.