Finding sanctuary as refugees: A family’s journey to keep home close

At 4 a.m. on Feb. 24, 2022, Olha Naichuk was awakened by a phone call that changed her family forever.

“Don’t send the kids to school,” her husband Mikhailo Naichuk said in a stressed out tone. “Russia has invaded Ukraine.” 

The morning after the attack, Olha and Mikhailo Niachuk were relieved to find out their family members were all safe, but they did not yet know their immediate family of five would soon become refugees. Within days, Olha and Mikhailo were forced to pack whatever they could carry and flee, in hopes of finding sanctuary elsewhere.

A chaotic picture came into focus on the streets outside their home in Mykulyntsi, their hometown in Western Ukraine. People at gas stations and pharmacies stocked up on essentials, uncertain about how the next several days would unfold. 

The family’s first step was a 20-hour bus ride to Poland, with subzero temperatures adding to their misery. 

“It was terrible because [at the] border, it’s like [a] few thousand people. It was very cold,” Olha said. “The man who is working border control, passport control … because a lot of people, he didn’t check who these people [were].” 

Their temporary refuge in Poland was facilitated by Olha’s brother, a catholic priest whose local parishioners came together to provide shelter and basic necessities to displaced families pouring in from Ukraine. 

“We believed it can be two weeks or three maximum, and it should be over,” Mikhailo said. “I promised the kids that it’s only for two weeks and we will come back to Ukraine — don’t worry.”

After several months in Poland on refugee status, and with no sign of a ceasefire, the mother and father started planning for their kids’ future. 

United for Ukraine, an initiative announced by President Joe Biden in April 2022, paved the way for the Naichuk family to make the journey to suburban St. Louis, Missouri, on Temporary Protected Status. It’s a place they now call home away from home. 

After landing on U.S. soil, the family spent weeks navigating essential paperwork, including work permits and driver’s licenses, as well as the huge cultural shock and language barrier. Despite their professional careers in Ukraine, both had to take jobs unrelated to their expertise  – Olha, a historian, got a housekeeping job with the local YMCA, and Mikhailo, a geographer, got a job at a Walmart close to their Maryland Heights apartment.

The Naichuks pose for a family photo inside a Ukrainian Church in St. Louis on December 24, 2022. All of them don Vyshyvanka that Olha Naichuk embroidered.
Photo courtesy Mikhailo Naichuk

Amidst the challenges of starting over, Olha finds solace through the familiar patterns that remind her of the home she left behind. 

“It’s my hobby to crochet,” she said, holding up a tablecloth she embroidered. “I like it.”

The Naichuks also remember home by making a grandmother’s special dumplings. It’s more than just cooking, said Mikhailo, who now goes by “Mike” in this country. 

“When they call to my mom … and ask, ‘Oh Grandma, we miss you, we want to try your dumplings.’ She say, ‘Okay, I can make them and send it to U.S.A.”

In addition to nostalgia for home-cooked meals, Olha misses being able to send her kids outside to play. The children don’t yet have friends in their new neighborhood.

Olha now works two jobs: one at a hospital prepping surgical equipment, and at a second at a banquet hall as a server. Mikhailo works 12-hour shifts in a factory. Their demanding schedules make it even more challenging to develop a social life.

Late at night, when their neighbors are asleep, Olha and Mikhailo call their loved ones back home to share mundane stories and talk about the day they will reunite. They speak with their families as often as they can, but must battle time zones and spotty internet. 

“Sometimes they have not electricity, sometimes they have not internet,” Olha said. “Russia destroyed our electrical system.”

A closeup of the crochet work done by Olha Naichuk on Monday, September 23, 2024, in her home in St. Charles, Mo. Naichuk crochets in her spare time as this creative outlet offers her a sense of connection to her past life.
SYED ALI / NEXTGENRADIO

Olha Naichuk holds up an embroidered tablecloth on Monday, September 23, 2024, in her home in St. Charles, Mo. It reads “Christ is risen” in Ukrainian and signifies her faith, reminding her of the Easter traditions the Naichuk family used to celebrate in their hometown.
SYED ALI / NEXTGENRADIO

Even after years of displacement and uncertainty of ever returning back home, Olha hasn’t lost hope. 

“When I step off that plane [in Ukraine], I’ll fall to my knees and kiss that ground beneath my feet,” she said, with her eyes welling up.

After two years of renting, Olha and Mikhailo are relieved to finally have another place they can call home. The St. Charles house they purchased in August gives the husband and wife a sense of belonging they haven’t felt in a long time. 

“Home is not just walls and roof,” Mikhailo Naichuk said. “Home, it’s people.”

For now, their Missouri home provides their kids warm beds to sleep in. But they are still waiting for the day they will return to Ukraine.

“I like this home,” Olha Naichuk said, “but inside, in my heart, is my native home.”

The loving couple, Mikhailo Naichuk (left) and Olya Naichuk (right), stand outside their new home on Monday, September 23, 2024, in St. Charles, Mo., with the Ukrainian flag behind them.
SYED ALI / NEXTGENRADIO