12/30/2021
Elena Kucherenko
Despite the twenty years that passed after his father’s death, his son began to pray for him. And everyone felt relief.
My friend Fr. Yevgeny’s teenage son was once put in a holding cell. He had been such a good boy. The church grandmothers used to cry tears of joy looking at him, and even the priest secretly did the same.
What demonic power over a man that he wants to cross himself, but one hand doesn’t let the other do it. And he can’t control himself.
I can’t get used to the fact that Optina is a place where Heaven meets Earth; where grace is felt as you approach it; where the soul sings; and where the impossible becomes possible.
He lived like many of his fellow-countrymen then—nothing special. But there was another story in his life that all his relatives knew.
“And we, classmates, crowded around him: ‘Vanka, Vanka, what’s the matter with you?!! Vanka! Don’t die!’” Galina recalled. “And then he smiled so feebly. And suddenly at that moment I thought about my grandmother's God.
And then suddenly a faint spark of holiness lights up the horizon in the midst of complete darkness. Or it could even be a fire! And then you understand that everything depends on us, not the times.
“Well, you know… Don’t give up. It is terrifying, I know, but everything will be all right with your Vovka. Prayer works miracles. Everyone prays for him here.” I hear something odd happening on the other end of the line. As if someone was gradually but steadily sliding down to the floor.
Before my very eyes a thief has entered Paradise.
Taras is praying, too. He prays that his brothers Mishka and Victor, and his friends Vovka and Van’ka, fighting on different sides of the front line, never meet one another and won’t have to shoot at each other…
I know that the Lord and His saints love everyone and are merciful to all, even to oddballs like me… Even in such completely ridiculous cases… And it’s a great joy!
While Olga was fretting and feeling upset, Fr. Boris found his wallet, took all the money he had and handed it to her. Then, he emptied a donation box and handed its contents to her as well. Had he been an elder, he’d have prayed and all the money she needed would have materialized out of thin air!
“I am sorry, but what was that all about? Why did you chase her away?” I asked her using my sweetest voice—just in case, so I wouldn’t be next to be carried outside. “Well, I happened to have trouble in the past. After that, every time I hear about “grace-filled elders,” I am on the verge of committing homicide…” That’s how I met Olga.
