There was a time when Nadia could not even hear the word “mother” without breaking.

She was fifteen when her mom died, old enough to feel the loss deeply, but still so young to carry it. The grief did not stay quiet. It worked its way into her life, into her choices, into the direction she was heading.

Alcohol. Cigarettes. A slow drift.

Not because she wanted that life, but because she did not know how to carry the pain.

Then one day, she heard about Last Bell.

At first, she did not want to go. She did not know what it was or where it was, and she was afraid she would not be accepted. But something in her chose to show up anyway.

And when she did, everything changed.

It is amazing how something as simple as a hug can begin to rebuild what loss has taken.

When I asked if the people there had become like family, she said something I will not forget.

“Even more.”

Little by little, her life began to shift.

She started hearing about the Bible. She found people who would listen, people she could talk to, people who stayed. And somewhere in that steady presence, something inside her changed.

“I realized I didn’t want to drink or smoke anymore.”

Not forced. Not pressured.

Chosen.

Because she found something better.

“It’s better to have people around you.”

“Then my soul feels better.”

When I asked her what God means to her now, she did not hesitate.

“He is my life.”

And then she explained it in a way only someone who has lived it can.

“When I started to believe, my heart became lighter. I realized He is with me. I can feel Him.”

Today, Nadia is moving forward.

She has taken up arm wrestling, a sport she discovered through church. She laughed as she told me how she wanted everything all at once when she started, and how her coach had to remind her to slow down and go step by step.

That phrase stayed with me.

Because her whole life now feels like that.

Step by step.

She trains. She competes. She wins.

“It gives me energy,” she said. “Every victory feels like a new level.”

And maybe that is the best way to describe her story.

Not one moment of change, but many small victories.

She also dreams of owning a camera. She loves photography. She notices beauty in everyday life, people sitting together, quiet moments in a park, scenes others might pass by.

That, too, is a sign of healing.

To notice beauty again.

When I asked her how she sees her life now, her answer was simple.

“I don’t want to go back. I want to go on.”

And when I asked her to describe Last Bell in one word, she smiled and said,

“Family.”

She learned to fight, not just across a table, but in her own life.

And step by step, she is moving toward something good.

About Last Bell Ministries

During my time in Zhytomyr, I didn’t just observe the work of Last Bell, I experienced it, in the laughter of young people gathered together, in quiet conversations filled with honesty, and in the steady presence of a community that feels like family.

During so many of the one to two hour interviews I conducted, I often asked a simple question, “If you could describe Last Bell in one word, what would it be?” After careful reflection, the most common answer was the same, family.

In Ukraine, the “Last Bell” marks a student’s transition into adult life. For orphanage graduates, it can be a moment of deep uncertainty. Last Bell Ministries meets them there, providing housing, mentorship, and community, helping turn a vulnerable ending into a hopeful new beginning.

I’ve seen firsthand how this kind of support changes lives, walking with young men and women through some of their hardest moments and helping them move from survival toward stability, healing, and belonging.

If you’d like to learn more about Last Bell or be part of this work, visit lastbell.org.

About Capturing Grace
Discover the story behind Capturing Grace and how my daughter Christina’s life continues to inspire this work at capturinggrace.org/about-us.