As the Russian war against Ukraine grinds on and many refugees are anxious about losing their immigration status, a group of Ukrainian immigrants gathers every Saturday in Mint Hill to pray — finding peace in the language, religion and traditions of an old country transplanted into a new setting.
"We have a prayer meeting in a neutral territory, like a park, a very good place," Pastor Basily Rudnitsky said. "We pray about our country of origin, Ukraine. We pray for the United States, the country that accepted us and gave us shelter."
Rudnitsky has led these prayer gatherings since 2010, before the Russian invasion of Ukraine.
"It became more prominent and more important for us when the war started in 2022," Rudnitsky said.
Since then, more people have joined the Saturday prayer gatherings. Not just Ukrainians, but also American allies.
"We had a very hard time, and we felt the need to pray more," Rudnitsky said.
The war has brought fear, uncertainty — and for some in Charlotte's Ukrainian community, a feeling of separation.
"When we pray over Ukraine, it's great to see that there are other people who also have that need and who also worry about what is happening there," 21-year-old Mariia Manilenko said.
Manilenko was born in Ukraine and moved to the U.S. with her parents when she was four. Manilenko is a U.S. citizen, but many in her church are not.
The Trump administration has weighed ending Ukrainians' temporary immigration status, as it has for other groups like Afghans and Haitians, which could put them at risk of deportation back to a war zone.
"I know a lot of them are worried, but a lot of them aren't," Manilenko said. "They're sure if God provided them a way to get here, there will be a way to stay."
The group also prays not just for family and friends back home and in the U.S., but also for leaders like Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, and even Russian President Vladimir Putin and U.S. President Donald Trump. They pray Putin and Trump find empathy for Ukraine.
"When President Trump became president, we had hope that he was going to bring peace, as he promised," Rudnitsky said. "In 24 hours, the war would stop. We prayed about him and got a little bit disappointed that he could not bring the peace. He's trying, and we still pray for him."
The weekly gathering has become a spiritual lifeline to their country over 5,000 miles away, especially for those with loved ones still in Ukraine.
"Some families basically left with nothing," Rudnitsky said. "To have the community here, to have the church to hear their own language and feel that support. It's very, very important."
As the war drags on and uncertainty on legal status for Ukrainians looms, these prayers allow for Ukrainians in Charlotte to hold fast to something in a world that’s been upended: hope.
