Growing up as the youngest of five children, I watched my parents live out their faith every single day. Even now, as they both manage diabetes and other health challenges, they never stopped being the ones who give.

We children have always helped our parents with whatever they need—managing medications, doctor visits, household tasks. But somehow, they’re still the ones taking care of us. Almost every Sunday after church service, without fail, they invite all of us over for dinner. Mom still cooks like she’s feeding an army, making sure everyone leaves with full bellies and leftover containers.

For years, they grew the most incredible fruits and vegetables in their garden behind the house. That garden is gone now, but I’ll never forget how they’d call each of us kids: ‘Come get tomatoes! Take some peppers for your family!’ Even when their hands were stiff and their energy was limited, they were still nurturing, still giving.

This is where ‘Plucked from the Fire’ was born—watching parents who never stopped serving others, even when they needed help themselves. They taught me that love isn’t just a feeling; it’s action. It’s opening your home, sharing your food, and never turning away someone in need.

When you support this mission, you’re continuing the legacy my parents built with their own hands, their own sacrifices, and their endless capacity to love others as family.

For over 20 years in Ukraine, I served as a nurse—always caring for those who needed healing most. When we moved to America 25 years ago with our five children, I thought my days of serving others might be behind me.

But God had different plans. As Ukrainian refugees began arriving in our community—many fleeing discrimination they faced in Ukraine simply for being Christians—I couldn’t stand by and watch. Here in America, they finally had freedom to practice their faith, but they still needed guidance.

I opened our home and worked through our local church to help these families settle. I spent countless hours providing recommendations, connecting families to community resources, and offering the comfort of someone who understood their journey.

My calling to heal had never ended—it just took a new form. Instead of treating physical wounds, I was helping heal the wounds of displacement and fear.

For 25 years in Ukraine, I served as a firefighter—always the one helping others escape from fires. When we came to America 25 years ago, we had to start from complete scratch. My wife, our five children, and I arrived with nothing but suitcases, living in small apartments while we scrambled and counted every penny together.

Saving money to buy clothes, shoes, and furniture for the kids was a necessity—we never showed off, and even though we came as refugees and received some initial help, we knew we had to build our own future. Twenty years ago, I survived a massive pulmonary embolism that should have killed me, and now I live with diabetes and blood clots that make every step a challenge.

Despite facing health challenges, my kids and I transformed our home into a sanctuary for our family and the Ukrainian refugees we welcomed.

For years, we’ve been the ones extending kindness—welcoming others into our homes, sharing our meals, and helping rebuild lives. We never sought assistance, trusting wholeheartedly in God’s unwavering provision.

But now, as our health declines, we find ourselves in a position we never imagined—needing the very help we’ve always given to others. It’s humbling to ask, but watching my youngest son Viktor carry forward our family mission through ‘Plucked from the Fire’ reminds me that sometimes even the rescuers need rescuing.

Your support is deeply valued during this challenging time.

For the last 17+ years that I’ve been part of this wonderful family, I’ve witnessed uncounted acts of generosity, love, and support—whether we were celebrating successes or facing hardships together. Viktor and Nina are the dream parents-in-law that every person hopes to have.

They’ve been there for us through everything. When we were raising our three children, they didn’t just offer advice—they rolled up their sleeves and helped. Late-night babysitting, homemade meals when we were overwhelmed, gardening lessons for the grandkids, and always an open door when we needed anything at all.

I’ve witnessed them opening their home to Ukrainian refugees, treating them like cherished family members. I’ve seen them extend a helping hand to anyone in need.

Now, as they face health challenges and need love, support, and financial assistance themselves, building this website and organizing this GoFundMe campaign with Viktor Jr. is the least we can do to help them up.

This family taught me what unconditional love looks like in action. They’ve poured into so many lives for decades—now it’s time for all of us who’ve been blessed by their generosity to pour back into theirs.

Your support isn’t just helping Viktor and Nina—it’s honoring a legacy of love that has touched countless lives, including mine.