Photo: social media of the Belgorod region’s Governor Vyacheslav Gladkov
Initially, I had absolutely no desire to talk with her about books: there was little time, and I did not want to distract myself after the service.
We first met at the end of summer 2023. Tatiana was a very sociable saleswoman at a newsstand, who I regularly bought magazines from for my mother, as long as her eyesight allowed her to read. Tatiana confessed that she had a large collection of English detective stories at home. She recommended to my mother books by Dick Francis, who is little known in Russia, assuring her that his style was similar to Agatha Christie’s.
Tatiana amazed me by her openness and trustfulness. She looked as though she was well into her fifties, with curly, bleached hair and wearing very little makeup. But is it considered polite to hint at a woman’s age?
Gradually, she began to share absolutely everything with me. I learned that my new acquaintance lived alone in a private house, and her daughter and her family lived nearby. In addition to reading, she was keen on sewing and kept exotic cats. I saw that she was a kindred spirit, although the woman was far from the Church.
Soon I noticed that every time I went to the market I hurried to pop in at her newsstand to listen to her endearing voice, see her smile and “recharge” with optimism.
“I read a lot of modern historians and experts in politics, and analyze them...” she would say.
“Don’t stuff your head with this—no one will write honestly anyway. There’s only one book that contains the Truth,” I would object, regretting that I again had no time to listen to her.
“Which book?” Tatiana would look at me naively.
“The Gospel, and the Bible in general,” I replied briefly, surprised that she didn’t know.
That cylinder-shaped newsstand stood at the intersection of Preobrazhenskaya (“Transfiguration”) Street and The Fiftieth Anniversary of the Belgorod Region Street, dubbed as “Belgorod’s Arbat”. There is a bus stop to the left of the newsstand; across the street is the old Detsky Mir (“Children’s World”) department store, which is now called the “shopping center”; and opposite is the Pobeda (“Victory”) cinema. All in one block, a stone’s throw from the cathedral.
A couple of times Tatiana asked me to light a candle for her health when I went to church.
One day, Tatiana mentioned that she was going to visit a friend in the city of Kursk, and they were planning to make a pilgrimage to the Kursk Root Monastery.1 I know many people who had been there, but I never had, so I wanted to ask her to include my name in a service of intercession there. I love the Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos of the “Sign” very much, and services of intercession are probably celebrated daily in front of it at the monastery. The southern aisle of our Transfiguration Cathedral in Belgorod is dedicated to this icon.
Tatiana took everything seriously and responsibly. She was worried before the trip—her friend’s birthday was on November 25. I had already forgotten, but she kept reminding me. She promised that they would go there by car and she would definitely fulfill my request.
And in early December she announced to me that everything had been fine at the monastery. Despite it being late autumn, it was not cold. They even admired the beautiful rose bushes, not yet wrapped up for the winter. They visited magnificent churches and walked around everywhere. And my intercession list had had to be duplicated, since my money had been used to order prayer services for ten days. She and her friend had copied it carefully—there were twenty names on my list for health. I thanked Tatiana, touched by her concern, and thought that their tourist trip had actually become almost a pilgrimage.
On December 30, 2023, the city of Belgorod was subjected to massive shelling from Ukraine. A large volley landed in the city center. A volley is when projectiles are shot down in the air and fragments hit the ground. At that time, no siren went off to warn of a missile—that would start in January. Or maybe there was, but it was not turned on until after the shelling.
Our apartment block was shaking badly at that time and the glass in our windows was rattling. Children on the skating rink in the central square were killed; meanwhile a New Year’s play was being performed at the Drama Theater nearby. Thank God, it was not hit.
Most of the fragments fell in the area of the Detsky Mir shopping center. There, just opposite the newsstand, stood the “Heart of Belgorod” art production, which later became a monument and symbol of the war-torn city.
It was Saturday afternoon. I did not get to church for Vigil that evening, since the streets were blocked because officers of the Ministry of Emergencies and volunteers were clearing the debris in the damaged buildings. That day, Ukraine had launched Olkha missiles and Vampire shells against Belgorod.
The next day after the Sunday Liturgy I rushed towards the Detsky Mir shopping center. The empty newsstand was dark—everything had been removed—there were no souvenirs and no colorful covers of magazines and newspapers. The front and side windows were filled with plywood instead of glass. I wished I knew who had been working there on Saturday—Tatiana or her relief…
Days passed. That tragic event had long-lasting effects. The Christmas tree and all the illuminations were soon removed from the square, and the nearest stores were closed. The shopping center was open, despite repairs to its windows and facade, but it was empty without customers—people were afraid to walk the streets, especially with children. Concrete protective blocks began to be installed throughout the city and shelters were equipped in residential buildings.
Tatiana was not on the list of the injured and killed, although knew only known her first name and approximate age. It was only on January 14, on a frosty evening, that I saw light in the newsstand. Tatiana looked out of the window.
On that day, as soon as she heard a whizzing in the sky and explosions overhead, she fell to the floor. The upper front and large side windows shattered completely. Very small splinters did not fall inwards, but outwards. She didn’t notice the hole in the roof right away. There is so little space inside the narrow newsstand that it is difficult to turn around even in a standing position. It turned out that Tatiana was not lying flat, but prostrating on the floor.
When the explosions stopped, Tatiana got out safe and sound.
Near the bus stop she saw a girl with her head pierced, and her brains mixed with blood. Dead people were lying in the snow beside the department store. Cars were burning like torches in the road. Black smoke and eerie sounds were everywhere: the screams of people, the crash of falling bricks, cracking, and the wailing of car alarms.
“I stuttered for a few days afterwards,” Tatiana finished her story. “But I’m not afraid of anything now. It was as if someone had covered me with the palms of her hands! As if I had been under a sturdy, secure protective screen.”
The next day after that she went to Kursk to visit her friend Victoria.
I was about to ask her if she had thanked the Mother of God Who had saved her from sudden death, but Tatiana forestalled me:
“Yes, of course! We celebrated the New Year, and then, on January 2, we took a taxi and went to the monastery.”
Were those who were on the streets on December 30 ready for death? Tatiana and I had often spoken about death before, about its suddenness and inevitability.
The Mother of God, Who is an Invincible Wall against enemy attacks and shows us the glory of God in Her miracles, had protected Tatiana from premature death—this is obvious. It’s too early for her to die.
The newsstand was repaired, the unplanned “New Year’s holiday” was over, and Tatiana resumed her work. What’s the point of quitting? A shell won’t land in the same place twice.
But in the spring, I bought my mother magazines less often because her eyesight had deteriorated, and soon I stopped going to Tatiana’s newsstand altogether.
In early summer the newsstand closed again. It stood in the full blaze of the sun, and the display cases (hung with foil on all sides) glowed with their silver rectangles. I passed by it, as usual, but one day I stopped.
There was a handwritten note on the closed hatch in the window: “The newsstand has moved to a different address—you can buy the latest newspapers and magazines there.” And the address was given. It’s not far; you walk to the next street parallel to Preobrazhenskaya Street.
It took me a while to get a chance to go there. A lot had changed. Was it a mere coincidence that Tatiana was working there that day?...
She told me that her grandson Denis was going to enroll at military school. She asked me to pray for him. And I told her my news: “My mother has died, and I’m leaving soon—returning to my convent.”
We were almost parting, warmly and amicably, when Tatiana suddenly said:
“You know, I got it. People of all ages had been killed then, and God knows which of them was ready or not. It is written in the Gospel: The one shall be taken, and the other left (Matt. 24:40).”
I also understood why we had met: She needed to discover the most important Reading in her life, and I needed to get added evidence of the reality of miracles and the work of Divine Providence in our lives.
“Under the Protection,” Tatiana added reverently. “We are all under the Protection of the Mother of God.”
