(Note: This is prose narrative, not poetry, but rendered with attention to its literary qualities)
Six years in their new home, then the Balatzky family sold For thirty-two thousand rubles to young Danilo Babenko, And journeyed to Uzbekistan—January '84 found them In unfamiliar lands once more. With modest house and plot, Timofei labored six months building grand within the yard— Roof and windows, floors complete, yet funds for finish failed, For he had bought a motorcar and hives of golden bees.
In those regions, many engaged in such a trade, Extracting honey, sending it to Japan for state export.
In '85, their eldest daughter Galina wed Alexander Borodaev in that distant place.
In Uzbekistan, compared to Ukraine's harsh grip, A relative freedom dwelt—faith could breathe, though watched. Unlike Kherson, where believers gathered in their homes in secret, Fergana held a House of Prayer where militia seldom came, And when they did, they did not scatter congregants like wolves. Schools too held a certain liberty. With Julia in her class, Seven others sat—some Baptist, some Pentecostal born. None were forced to join the Pioneers against their will. Her classmates, knowing her devotion and her gentle tongue, Treated her with honor always; if a curse slipped out, They begged her pardon straightway. By her teacher's choice, She became class monitor, and when she left for America, Many wept to see her go.
Yet even in this freedom, Christians faced the State's dark hand. One dawn in 1986, at seven o'clock, came knocking at their gate. The parents exchanged glances: who could come so early?
Opening the gate, Timofei saw several men who briefly introduced Themselves and showed a warrant for a search.
"Julia, wake up!"—hearing this unfamiliar voice, The girl opened her eyes. A stranger stood beside her bed. Not understanding what occurred, she asked in fear:
"Where is my mother?"
"Your mother's in the other room. Get dressed and come, You won't be going to school today," the man replied, then left.
Dressed, Julia entered the hall where all her family gathered— Parents and children seated on the divan while strangers Overturned each cabinet, shelf, and bed. She trembled with new fear. Upon the table grew great stacks: of notebooks, Christian books, Of hymnals and of musical scores—each pile increasing. They seized all that mentioned God, all cassettes and reel-to-reel, All tape recorders too. Then Julia saw them carry out From their unfinished new house boxes bound with cord.
Her father kept there paper for printing Christian texts— The children knew nothing of this secret work. That day, in many homes throughout Fergana's faithful folk, The searches came. When literature and machines were seized, The "organs" warned Timofei not to leave the city, For court proceedings lay ahead. Two brothers, pastors both— Mukhin Alexander Semyonovich and Bogdanov Sergei Egorovich— Were arrested, imprisoned for years in cells.
Much later, they returned the books and tape machines, But all the cassettes' voices had been erased— No memory remained of recordings made in childhood days. The family grieved, yet nothing could be changed or made anew.
Through beekeeping, Timofei earned enough to finish building, And in '87, they moved into their home. But after two years' time, A letter came from friends—Mikhail and Anna Kramarevsky— Who wrote they'd settled in the States and could send invitations. Timofei, with joy, agreed.
In January '89, they received the call from America. They submitted documents and prayed to know God's will, Believing: if His will it be, then permission would be granted. In August came approval, and the family prepared to depart. Their second daughter Liliya, proposed to by Anatoly Nikitenko, Chose to remain in Fergana rather than to go.
That summer brought civil war to Uzbekistan's troubled lands, And many fled; prices fell, and selling homes grew hard. But Liliya's choice to stay resolved the problem of their house. So on September thirtieth, nineteen eighty-nine, The family set forth on journeys long and strange unknown. By train from Moscow through the Polish lands to Austria they came, Where in a town called Badgleychtenberg, two hundred twenty kilometers From Vienna, they were housed and fed, and given money for their needs. One month they stayed, then in late October journeyed on To Rome with countless other souls like them.
In Tivoli, a small town on a mountain's crest Thirty-five kilometers from Rome, with valley views below, The hotel held dozens of their countrymen all waiting For America's doors to open. Three meals daily, lodging free. The younger worked at markets or on farms collecting kiwi, Or stood at intersections offering to wash car windows During red lights' pause. Pavel worked and earned enough To buy a camera and tape recorder, small necessities. From churches they received free clothing, shoes discarded By Italians for the poor. Here they met Elena Grischenko, Sister of Tatiana, who had fled two months before. Then Galina came with husband Sasha and two sons, Misha, Sasha.
Three months in Italy, permission granted, they flew forth: February second, nineteen ninety, Sacramento called— Timofei now sixty-one, Tatiana fifty-one.
The Grischenko family—Victor and Lena—met them there, Having arrived some months before. Soon after, in their own apartment, The Balatzky children entered school: Pavel in the twelfth grade, Julia in the ninth, Anna in the seventh year. The state gave aid and food stamps for their needs. Tatiana studied English for a time, but age made learning hard. Timofei longed for his homeland and sought to restore His citizenship through the Soviet consulate in San Francisco. A year passed; the USSR underwent upheaval, collapsed. Yet still he hoped to go back, though knew not where.
On March the first, nineteen ninety-two, en route to church, A woman running red light struck their car— Pavel drove; he lost control and struck a tree. All found themselves in hospital. The car could not be mended. Timofei lay fifteen days in coma; his aorta torn, He underwent emergency surgery, while church and loved ones prayed. God granted him his life. Tatiana cracked her hip, Julia sustained a compound fracture, Anna cuts from glass, But Pavel—his right hand had tendons severed; surgery repaired them, And he was to be released at dawn. Yet walking down the hall With his sister, he confessed his legs felt numb, like cotton wool. She urged him tell the doctors. Tests revealed a chip Had broken from his seventh cervical vertebra. Emergency surgery followed; three months in metal brace. The family thanked the Lord that surgery had been swift, That their son was not made paralyzed. God showed His care once more.
Church brothers and sisters brought them food and visits, prayers, And helped with all their needs. For time, Timofei abandoned His dream of return; no answer came from the embassy, Though the Grischenkos gained their citizenship and left for Ukraine. In autumn '92, with Russian citizenship and green card in hand, Timofei and Pavel visited Liliya's family in Fergana. After that journey, the desire to return diminished somewhat. With restored citizenship, he could visit his homeland anytime, And regularly he did.
Gradually their family grew; the Balatzky's sponsored many relatives. All Timofei's brothers with their families, and some of Tatiana's siblings, Settled in America. In 2000, Liliya with Anatoly and five children Moved to Sacramento too. The younger children finished school, Found professions, started families of their own. By God's grace, in 2022, Timofei and Tatiana Celebrated sixty-five years of marriage together, Living in Sacramento, California, surrounded by the love Of five children and their spouses, seventeen grandchildren, And seven great-grandchildren.
