My friends on the forum write to me in the comments that I am building cultural bridges between us, telling you about the problems and life of people
in Russia, and my threads are different from the Western agenda. Honestly, that's what I want. So that we can understand each other better. And when
people understand each other, it becomes a powerful obstacle to propaganda, which fancies mutual hatred. Today I want to retell you the story of a
simple Russian woman who has performed 32 abortions in her life. It would seem that everything, her soul has died. But the story told by Archpriest
Dmitry Khartsyz in the
, which I will tell you, says otherwise. You can always be saved. And now in Russia a very large number of people are thinking
about it. So, my retelling.
“The concept of happiness is relative for everyone. I am often asked the question:“ Is it happiness? ”So, I repeat, someone's happiness is to
stay alive, while someone will find a smartphone not the last but the penultimate model as misfortune.
In the Trinity Church of Krasnoyarsk, where I had to go through the basics of my formation in spiritual life, at different times the exiled
Decembrists and the current metropolitans "obeyed", and - let me put myself on a par with these people - your humble servant. But I say this not in
order to become proud, to turn up my nose at my "importance", but to make it clear that many people have passed through the gatehouse, stoker,
refectory or sacristy of this temple during the entire period of its existence. And they were all different.
I don't even remember the name of this woman. It seems Valya or Galya, but it doesn't matter. Looking at her, only a lazy one would not roll his
eyes and twirl his finger at his temple. I don’t remember how she appeared in the refectory in the dishwasher. Most likely, she just nailed to the
temple, like tens and hundreds of people in need of God's help.
So, as everyone thought, she was very strange. I never smiled, did not participate in conversations and joint prayers. Even at the liturgy, she stood
in the corner of the church, half-turned to the altar. During the liturgy, she prayed more in front of the icon of the Mother of God. This Valya-Galya
did not pay attention to any admonitions from us, "who know correctly" how, when and to whom to pray, stubbornly continuing to stand half-turned to
the altar at the services.
I remember that another feature of her was some, as it seemed to me, an abnormal desire not to call animals by name, especially if these names were
also consonant with human ones. We had a cat in our stoker. “Murka,” or something, everyone called her. So, Valya-Galya said that Murka is almost
Maria, and she called the cat just "cat"! So she walked around the yard and called loudly: "Cat, cat"! And she stubbornly did not kill flies and
mosquitoes, even those who bit her.
One day, for some reason, this woman stayed late in her obedience in the refectory. It seems like there was some kind of holiday. There were many
people at the service. They fed the homeless, and there were a lot of plates in the dishwasher. It was also my shift in the service. In general, we
crossed with Vali-Galya very close. In short, I began to "talk to her and talk to her."
And that's what she said. Her youth was stormy. There was a lot in it. But the worst thing is 32 (!!!) abortions. When awareness and comprehension
came, it was already too late. There was no question of getting pregnant and carrying a child. Such are the things. At one point, suddenly, with all
her being, feeling all the abomination of what she had done, she went to the church for confession. The confessor blessed her "to take care of every
breath." That is, do not kill any living creatures again, never! Nobody, never!
That night the cat decided to give birth to kittens. But, carefully fed, she only turned from side to side and somehow pitifully looked into our eyes.
This gorged cat simply had no labor activity at all. The cat was dying. Valya-Galya, sobbing, was kneeling in front of the cat in the boiler room and
praying earnestly. What amazed me? She did not ask God to help the unfortunate animal. She begged the Savior and the Mother of God to forgive her. And
her prayer was so fervent, and so “infectious” that I knelt down beside her. So we stood for half the night. Looking at my co-prayer book, I was
only afraid that she would finally lose her mind: she bowed so earnestly and, almost scratching her face, was baptized.
By morning it was all done. The newly-made mother-cat was rather purring and licking the kittens. And next to her, right on the quilted jacket thrown
on the bare cement floor, Valya-Galya curled up like a ball. When she raised her tortured eyes to me, they shone with extraordinary happiness. "