THE COLONY, Texas -- On a Saturday afternoon, the parking lot at St. Sophia’s Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church was full.
Cars lined up outside donned stickers of the Ukrainian flag with its two horizontal blue and yellow bands. And inside by the altar: a Ukrainian flag on the left side and an American flag on the other.
It was a plea to pray — for the end of the war, for peace, for the community and for those fighting on the front lines nearly 6,000 miles away.
Inside, nearly 80 congregants packed the pews to pray for those who died in the war and reflect Feb. 25, a day after the one-year mark of the war had passed.
The war’s global influence has even extended to North Texas. Evacuees, who fled soon after the Russian invasion, from both Ukraine and Russia have sought refuge here.
Ukrainian Americans who call this place home say they’re continually fraught with anxiety about the safety of their family members in Ukraine. But many say they’ve also been emboldened to help their country any way they can. North Texans with no ties to Ukraine or Russia have also stepped in to help.
That ever-present influence was clear in The Colony, about 30 miles north of downtown Dallas. Among the congregants at St. Sophia’s: a few evacuees from Ukraine.
Congregants sang the Ukrainian national anthem and people implored others to think about the ways they can support Ukraine. Ukrainians in North Texas say the community is small relative to other major metropolitan areas in the U.S. but they say it’s now growing with recent waves of migration.
“We can do a lot to make refugees’ lives easier and not make them feel like strangers,” said Chrystya Geremesz, the cofounder of the Ukranian American Society of Texas, which organized the church service and rally.
What Ukrainians here are feeling
After the service ended, about half of the congregants went to a busy intersection in The Colony to rally.
They stood near the edge of a sidewalk under cloudy skies and braved chilly weather to voice their support for Ukraine. Both adults and children waved Ukrainian flags and draped them around their shoulders.
They also held signs that said “#StandWithUkraine” and “Honk for Ukraine.” Passing cars honked in response.
They chanted “Slava Ukraini, heroyem slava” followed by its English translation: “Glory to Ukraine, glory to the heroes.”
The rally was one of several similar events in North Texas. On Feb. 24, supporters of Ukraine gathered in Richardson for an auto-rally, and the next day people gathered in Fort Worth near the Tarrant County Courthouse.
Serhiy Kudelia, an associate professor of political science at Baylor University, said his mother lives in Lviv and his wife’s parents live in northern Ukraine. He’s one of many Ukrainians who were in The Colony on Feb. 25.
He used to make trips nearly every summer or winter to Ukraine with his family; those visits have been put on pause because of the war. He has consistently made an effort to teach the history and culture of the country to his 8-year-old daughter, who speaks fluent Ukrainian, Kudelia said.
But now, she views Ukraine through the prism of violence and murder, he said.
“Whenever we talk about the future of going back to Ukraine, she is now much more cautious and wary about actually going,” Kudelia said.
It’s also difficult for her to stay in touch with her grandparents. Because they live in Ukraine, Kudelia said she has had to adjust to her grandparents possibly being at risk.
The concern for family members is widespread amongst Ukrainians. Although much of the fighting is taking place in eastern Ukraine, Russian forces continue to bomb Ukrainian cities, destroying their infrastructure and forcing people to occasionally seek shelter and live in the dark.
Marianna Oharenko, who moved to North Texas from Chicago a year and a half ago, said it’s a weird feeling to be both American and grapple with the fact people are hiding in bomb shelters.
“You’re trying to live your life but also understanding that there are people out there that are your blood and your people — they’re unable to do that, so it’s a lot of anxiety and fear,” she said.
Her cousins live in Lviv, she said. Alongside Oharenko was her mother, Natalia, who also lives in the U.S. Natalia Oharenko said family members have to sit in the basement sometimes two or three times a day because of the threat of Russian missiles.
They live without electricity a few hours a day, she said, and use candles instead as a light source. Tears welled in both of the women’s eyes as they spoke about their family.
Natalia Oharenko said Feb. 25 she checks her phone before going to sleep and after waking up to hear about any new developments in Ukraine. There’s an eight-hour time difference between Lviv and Chicago, where she lives.
Other Ukrainians in North Texas have heard similar stories. Leonid Regheta, pastor of the River of Life Church in Plano, said he knows families that have lived in basements for more than 50 days.
The Ukraine native said some members of his congregation, which includes Russians, Ukrainians and Moldovans, among others, have sought psychiatric help because of the constant worry for their family in Ukraine. Others complain of high blood pressure, he said.
The war has stoked some divisions in his congregation as well. Some Russian families left the church because they didn’t like church leaders praying for Ukraine, Regheta said.
“They complained that I’m quote-unquote bringing politics into the church,” Regheta said. “And I said, ‘Look, I’m bringing compassion.’”
During services Feb. 19, River of Life church leaders spoke in Russian and prayed for peace in Ukraine and across the globe.
Regheta said many Russian evacuees seek aid at their church, and he helps them as much as evacuees from Ukraine. And so do his church members.
“We have people in our church who have hosted Ukrainian refugees in their homes for weeks or months, who have donated money and furniture and kitchen and bath supplies,” Regheta said.
‘A blessing’
It’s not clear exactly how many evacuees from Ukraine have made their way to Texas but since the invasion, the U.S. has admitted more than 270,000 Ukrainians, according to the Department of Homeland Security. More than double President Joe Biden’s commitment to welcome 100,000 Ukrainians into the country.
To speed up the humanitarian parole applications, the Biden administration launched Uniting for Ukraine in April. Through this system, Ukrainians can live in the U.S. for up to two years if they have a sponsor here. About 148,000 Ukrainians have been admitted to the U.S. through the program; nearly 116,000 have already arrived in the U.S, according to the DHS.
The U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services has received nearly 219,000 applications from U.S. residents looking to sponsor Ukrainians.
Before Uniting for Ukraine was launched, many Ukrainians attempted to enter through the U.S-Mexico border and were granted parole, said Julia Gelatt, a senior policy analyst with the D.C.-based Migration Policy Institute. Those who came across the border were given only a one-year grant of parole, which is soon set to expire, Gelatt said.
The DHS had also previously designated Ukraine for “temporary protected status,” a condition for countries marred by either armed conflict, environmental disasters or extraordinary conditions.
More than 159,000 Ukrainians have come to the U.S. outside of Uniting for Ukraine through other means, which include crossing the U.S.-Mexico border or coming as a refugee.
Valentyna Kuzminova arrived in North Texas in late May last year through Uniting for Ukraine with her husband, Artur Kuzminov, and her 6-year-old and 8-year-old daughters.
Kuzminova said she and her family were living in the western Donbas region of Ukraine. The constant sounds of sirens and shellings pushed them to flee, she said.
If she didn’t have children, however, she may have stayed. Her husband’s parents are still there in Kharkiv. She said the war has been painful, especially knowing that some of her friends have died.
“I’ve been crying the last three days,” she said.
The last time they had both been to the U.S. was about a decade ago as students, she said. How they found a sponsor was a matter of faith and luck.
Her husband made a post in a Facebook group searching for sponsors that connected them to Denison residents Sally and Daniel McKee.
Sally McKee said she and her husband spoke to many people trying to find a fit for their family. When they found Kuzminova and her husband, she said it seemed like it clicked.
Within three days of sending their application, it was approved, Daniel McKee said. As for why they chose to sponsor a Ukrainian family, Daniel McKee said he felt led by God.
“It was impressed upon us, upon me specifically, that this is a time in history that if I don’t do something, if we don’t do something, we will regret it,” he said.
Financially supporting the family hasn’t been an issue, Daniel McKee said. He calls Kuzminova and Kuzminov the “hardest working people he’s ever seen.”
They both have jobs; Kuzminov is a long-haul trucker and Kuzminova found work at a local Christian school.
Each day, Daniel McKee said Artur Kuzminov stood in lines at the Department of Motor Vehicles to get his driver’s license and continually he was turned away because he missed a specific document. But he kept returning until he received his driver’s license, Daniel McKee said. And then Kuzminov drove from Denison to Greenville, almost 50 miles, for a training course to obtain his commercial driver’s license.
Even their children have bonded together. The McKees have four children – three that are near the same age as Kuzminova’s daughters – and now 12 people total in their house. Daniel McKee said it’s been “such a blessing.”
“Our biggest challenge is finding a dining room table big enough for everybody,” Daniel McKee said. “So, we took two dining room tables, and we connected them in the middle.”
Hugging Ukraine
Throughout North Texas, Ukrainians and those with no ties to Ukraine or Russia have found their own ways to help.
In North Dallas, Olena Jacobs runs Ukie Style Embroidery Art, where she sells Ukrainian-style embroidered clothing along with other accessories, including flags, pins, mugs, necklaces and wreaths.
Near the front of her store, however, were two boxes of items not for sale. Inside were medical supplies that would be shipped to Ukraine.
After the war began, Jacobs started collecting funds and humanitarian aid supplies to send to the country, she said, and it became a very active operation for a few months. One that eventually had to be scaled down.
“The store became known not as a Ukrainian goods store and embroidery, but this collection point and people tried to bring mattresses and old furniture,” she said.
In Plano, Carey Buyse runs a donation center out of a former preschool’s gymnasium, known as The Closet Ministry. Buyse said a part of the gymnasium houses furniture and houseware on one floor and then upstairs a room full of clothes.
Volunteers collect household items that are given to them, she said, and everything that is donated is given away for free.
The last four to six months, she said every week a couple of families — most often Ukrainians and Russians — stop by to grab items.
“They’re so young… these young families and they’re bringing their toddlers or their babies or young school-aged children,” Buyse said.
Volunteers have even delivered to some, taking furniture directly to their homes; most often in Plano and Collin County but also Bedford, Princeton and Waxahachie, she said.
“As a mom, that just sort of warms my heart to see that we were able to give them clean towels or a set of dishes,” Buyse said.
Regheta said he’s seen an outpour of support from North Texans amidst the war. When he mentions he’s helping evacuees from Ukraine, people’s first question is, “How can we help?”
“It’s been wonderful to see the whole world really hug Ukraine,” he said.
