Editor’s note: Chana and her husband Rabbi Shalom Gopin were Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries in Lugansk, far-eastern Ukraine, until the war began in 2014 and their city was occupied by rebels. In the aftermath they relocated to the Obolon neighborhood of Kiev, where they began building a new Jewish community, which included many of their fellow refugees from the occupied east. Forced to leave their home all over again, the Gopins and their children are currently staying in Iasi, Romania, where they are assisting refugees.

B”H

Saturday night, February 26, 2022

It’s 2 a.m. and I can’t fall asleep, I’m not sure why. It’s currently quiet. Nowadays, the word quiet has a different connotation. We pray that it will be truly quiet…It is quiet in our room, and in the second room in our temporary quarters here in Iasi, Romania. Everyone has gone to sleep. The children are worn out from the events of the last few days, they are certainly feeling it.

We don’t hide our feelings. Shalom occasionally sheds a tear, and I start crying too.

The people of Ukraine are in bomb shelters. Millions of people are going through a tremendous amount of stress during this period. I never knew much about politics, but I do know that this war has caused an entire nation—men, women and children—to live in fear.

We are constantly in touch with our community. Families with young children, senior citizens over 80 years old who are unable to go down to the safe rooms and are looking for some form of protection in their homes. Leah wrote to me “I have aged several years during these few days,” and once again, tears fall.

I think of the numerous people who have been on the road for long hours. I think of Eitan, a very dear friend and community member of ours. He left the city Friday morning with his wife and nine-month-old son David; They headed towards…wherever they could go, somewhere in the direction of Poland. Eitan knew that the trip would be difficult, but he did not imagine how challenging it would actually be. We spoke with him after Shabbat and he was still on the road, he had crossed the border into Poland and was on his way to Krakow. We spoke to the shliach there, he is waiting for Eitan and his family and has hot food and a place to rest waiting for them. I don’t know how baby David behaved—which part of the experience has etched itself into his soul? I hope he will not remember it at all, but it shakes me to the core again and again: how can this happen??

We are OK, thank G‑d. Almost OK. I don’t know how we got through the agonizing trip. How Shalom drove and kept his cool during extremely stressful hours. Over the last two weeks he barely felt anything. He says he lost weight and he’s probably right. That’s how it is when the uncertainty weighs over your head, for a prolonged amount of time. That’s how it feels when you went through it once already, and your stomach clenches at the thought that it will happen again. That’s what one feels when only a few months ago we brought our furniture from Lugansk to Kiev and finally, after seven years, we started to feel that we had a proper home.

I actually was able to keep myself together. I don’t know why. Yet perhaps I do. I think that something happened to me ever since we left Lugansk. There are defense mechanisms in place, not just to offset missiles but also to face challenging life events. I think that several years ago my soul made the decision not to attach itself too much emotionally to a place. It is probably afraid that it will have to face another blow. And our souls apparently know…and feel….

Yes, it’s hard for me. I also cry. But thank G‑d I feel in control. G‑d Almighty knows what’s good for us, far better than we do. Leaving Lugansk was very difficult for our family. But thank G‑d we wholeheartedly rebuilt our lives and grew in all aspects. I can’t say that we miss Lugansk anymore. We no longer dream of returning there. We are satisfied with what we were able to accomplish there and feel that we did our utmost to fulfill our mission. What happened, happened.

Now thank G‑d, we are happy in Kiev. Or rather, we were happy…until Thursday morning…but G‑d never leaves us. So what am I worried about? That I’ll have to roll with the punches for a certain amount of time? That I will not be able to go back to my home? That we will once again have to come up with a new path? I am inclined to believe that we will be able to return to Kiev, to continue to work with the community that we love so much and was brought together with so much love. When will that be? Only G‑d knows. I hope that the West will act decisively and the war will end sooner….

So what am I worried about? I am worried about the numerous families who are sitting in shelters right now. I am worried about my fellow Shluchim who remained in Kiev and have not been able to leave and now are afraid to do so. I am afraid of the additional shells the oppressor is likely to send over the city…my head is churning with many thoughts and there is no quiet to be had….

This is the first installment of Chana Gopin’s diary of the current war.

You can support the continued work of Chabad of the Obolon district, Kiev, here.

Click here for a prayer you can say and a list of good deeds you can do in the merit of the protection of all those in harm’s way.