By Ihor Tereshchenko, LHI Ukraine Country Director
Oleh distributing warm hugs and blankets to the elderly residents of Yalta village.
For three years, Ukraine has been living through a nightmare. The war hasn’t stopped. The suffering hasn’t stopped. The need for aid hasn’t stopped. Yet, as the war rages on, international support is shrinking. Major funding sources have been cut, including critical U.S. humanitarian aid. Many organizations that once provided lifesaving assistance are scaling down or pulling out entirely. A potential agreement is being crafted without Ukrainian input and without consideration of Ukrainian sovereignty.
Now, more than ever, we are committed to continuing our high-impact programs throughout Ukraine.
Aid delivered to rural villages in the embattled Donetsk region.
Food and Medical Aid
We work in towns where the grocery store has been shut down for years, the local hospital was bombed long ago, and the only way to get drinking water during the winter is to melt snow. Elderly people are living on nothing but bread and tea. Families are forced to choose between going hungry in a basement shelter and getting shelled as they attempt to find food. This is the reality right now in Ukraine’s war-torn regions.
In response, we’ve delivered food and medicine to those who need it most—to villages on the frontlines, hospitals struggling to function, and people who lost everything. We delivered emergency surgical supplies to a frontline hospital, just days before hundreds were injured in a missile strike. We helped hundreds of people evacuate from under fire and destroyed villages to new homes and new hope.
A group therapy session for women who have lost a loved one to the war.
Psychological Support
There’s another war happening in Ukraine, one that doesn’t make the headlines. It’s the battle inside people’s minds.
Children who flinch at every loud sound. Mothers who haven’t slept in months. Grandparents who have buried all of their descendents. Trauma in Ukraine runs deep, and its scars aren’t always visible. That’s why we focus not only on delivering food and supplies, but also on helping people heal.
One of the women in our program, Natalia, lost her husband on the battlefield. For months, she was drowning in grief to a point where she could no longer speak. She joined group therapy sessions, hesitant at first, but over time she started talking again. Today she doesn’t just attend—she leads. She now helps other widows navigate their pain, proving that healing is not just possible, but contagious.
For many, this psychological support isn’t just about mental well-being, it’s the difference between giving up and fighting to live.
Psychological support sessions for kids at our Center for Mother and Child in Kherson City.
Rebuilding Communities
War doesn’t just destroy buildings. It destroys entire lives. When a missile wipes out a home, it erases more than just walls and furniture. It erases safety, stability, and dignity.
We’ve seen families huddled in basements for months, with no running water, no electricity and no certainty about tomorrow. But we’ve also seen something incredible: resilience. People picking up bricks and rubble to rebuild, turning ruins into homes again, refusing to be broken.
That’s why we are working alongside communities to help them recover. In Kherson, we’ve helped rebuild destroyed homes. We’ve helped local women regain their self-confidence and learn new skills to provide for their families. In Lviv, we’re helping displaced women cope with the horrors they have experienced, restore their faith in life, and even start their own businesses. In Kharkiv, we’ve worked with volunteers to create safe spaces for children to laugh, play, and just be kids again, even with the sounds of explosions in the distance.
War doesn't define the future of Ukrainians. They do. And as long as they are willing to fight for it, we will be there with them every step of the way.
Two family members during a distribution of coal and winter clothes for Myrne village, Donetsk region.
Holding On Together
Why does anyone stay put near the frontlines? Why do elderly women stay in villages that are hit on a daily basis? Why do people stay in cities that are occupied, or at risk of occupation, like Pokrovsk or Kherson? Why do some even return to homes under Russian occupation?
The truth is that leaving is not a simple choice. Displacement is exhausting. Shelters are overcrowded, aid is running low, and the uncertainty of starting over with nothing is overwhelming. Many displaced people spend months or even years moving from one temporary shelter to another, only to realize there is nowhere that truly feels safe.
But perhaps the most important reason why people stay (or return) is that for most Ukrainians, their home is their only financial asset. Most families inherited their homes or land from prior generations who were assigned them during the Soviet era. Losing that home means losing everything. If their city falls under Russian control, they may never be able to access their property again. There will be no compensation, no way to reclaim what was lost.
For an elderly woman in a frontline village, leaving might mean dying alone in a shelter. For a young family, it might mean never having a stable home again. The choice is never simple or easy. It is not just about survival—it is about dignity and holding onto the last piece of a life that war has not yet stolen.
The most important thing to remember is that humanitarian aid is so much more than the initial emergency response. We listen to people to make sure we provide the exact support, physical and emotional, that people need to get through excruciating situations. So, every box of food, every warm blanket, and every session with a psychologist is more than just humanitarian work—it’s a recognition of Ukrainian resilience, and a message of hope and support.