STOUGHTON, Wisc. (NewsNation) — Renee Lushaj’s day probably looks familiar to most Americans: juggling work between things like trips to the library and drop-offs at the doctor.

But along with taking care of her family, she’s navigating day-to-day life with Ukrainians displaced by a war that started one year ago, helping their lives feel at least a little normal.

Lushaj is one of the three directors of the Stoughton Resettlement, a collective of community members who have sponsored 34 Ukrainian refugees in the last year. Lushaj sponsored 10 herself, including the Poroshkovs, whose 13-year-old daughter Melaniia now goes to the same school as her own daughter. 

The collective is located in Stoughton, Wisconsin, where visitors will find small blue and yellow flags spotted across town in the windows of house and pinned to backpacks.

“See that, on that post, it’s the Ukrainian flag,” Lushaj points out as she drives through a neighborhood to the local high school. “And that house on the corner, they have two.”

Lushaj is one of dozens of volunteers here who have found a calling in helping Ukrainians feel welcome.

The Stoughton Resettlement relies on a model called community sponsorship, where teams of volunteers pledge to support refugee families with everything from rent and food, to language lessons and a job search.

In Stoughton, there are 15 volunteer team members, plus many other community organizations that offer support. Church groups have provided clothes, and a local thrift store has donated furniture. Landlords help provide affordable and flexible housing, and one woman holds English classes for adults.

“It takes a village,” Lushaj said. “It takes all of us.”

‘What are your worries?’

Standing in the dining room of one of the first families to come to the Stoughton Resettlement, Lushaj watches Illia Poroshkov cut the skin off a large piece of fruit.

His wife Natalia and Lushaj try to decide on its English name using Google translate. “Is it a blood orange?” Lushaj speaks into her phone, which then reads out the Russian translation. 

Natalia shakes her head, then speaks in Russian into her phone. The translation reads out: “It is a sweet orange.”

Even without a shared language, there is a sense of family between Lushaj and the Poroshkovs. 

“This group just asks you, ‘What do you need?’ What are your worries? How can we help?’” said Natalia through a Russian translator.

The Poroshkovs are one of five Ukrainian families who have settled in this apartment building marked by two massive blue and yellow flags hanging off the top balconies. They arrived in Stoughton not too long after the Russian-Ukraine conflict started one year ago.

As their sponsor, Lushaj is required to provide housing and help newcomers navigate U.S. systems, like enrolling the children in the local school or helping the adults find employment.

The requirements ensure basic needs are met, but Natalia says it’s the small, loving touches that have the most meaningful impact to help her family feel welcome. Things like filling an apartment with toys for her young daughter and a hand-made quilt that combined the American and Ukrainian flags.

These are the things that also take the most work, volunteers say, and are truly a community effort. 

But it’s in Stoughton’s DNA. The town of 13,000 just south of Madison has a history of helping refugees, including those fleeing Kosovo in the late ’90s.

“Stoughton has embraced this,” said Sharon Mason-Boersma, who was a county social worker helping Albanians resettle at the time.

She said she learned it takes more than a government agency or caseworker to create a welcoming culture.

“It takes connections to really make things work well,” she said. “Sure, you’re going to have bumps in the road … (but) in the end, you will be working together to gain that trust, not just for the refugees or parolees, but with each other. And that takes work, that takes effort to continue to do that, and it takes authenticity.”

Mason-Boersma brought that knowledge into her role as a director of the Stoughton Resettlement. Yet this next wave of families came with a new wrinkle. Because Ukrainians were given visas under humanitarian parole — not as “legal” refugees — they didn’t come with the financial resources other groups do. 

“They don’t have those refugee assistance-based programs,” Mason-Boersma said. “The slowness of getting social security cards for work permits, as well as the tenuous nature of that status has been challenging.”

But that’s proved one way the larger community can help. Stoughton Resettlement and its donors had to mobilize to raise the money and provide the necessities themselves. The organization has had to pause sponsoring new Ukrainians due to financial restraints, saying they want to support the families already here as best they can.

While it’s been a difficult year of learning, the volunteers say it is all worth it. 

On challenging days, Lushaj remembers a video the Poroshkovs texted her of their 4-year-old daughter dancing and singing: “Illia says, ‘It’s bedtime, but we can’t get her to sleep. But my heart is happy because she’s happy.'”

“It’s just those types of images and messages and knowing that they are safe — as a parent, it’s priceless,” she said.