He prayed. Praying day and night. He begged God to heal his daughter. Five years ago, his wife passed away, and now the disease has taken on his daughter. She’s only seven years old. I haven’t lived yet. What did she see in this world? At first, he took her to the doctors, took her to money all over the country. Nothing worked. Katenka was fading. The only thing left for him was to pray. Pray to a God he never believed in. And he prayed, day or night, with his huge palm over the hot head of his daughter, as if his hand could heal her.
When the daughter was forgotten in a hot dream, he went outside, went away from residential buildings, where the ravines began, and howled. I looked out at the black night sky. Howling out of power that he couldn’t help his daughter. He punched the ground as if it was his fault. He scratched the frozen ground breaking his nails, as if he wanted to wake her up to help his daughter. After a while, he calmed down. He returned, sat down next to his daughter and prayed again.
She felt better in the morning and asked her father to tell her something fun. Talk about happy families where no one ever gets sick. Talk about distant countries and deep oceans. And he would talk, sometimes turning away to brush off a tear. Don’t let my daughter see her dad crying. Daughter shouldn’t see dad’s tears.
As soon as he fell asleep, he prayed. His heart, or what was left of him, was beating into heaven, begging the Lord to help his daughter. His heart penetrated into his daughter’s small body, banishing disease from him.
Of course, he knew he could only hope for a miracle. And he was hoping. I prayed and believed in this miracle. And a miracle happened.
One morning my daughter asked for manna porridge. My daughter asked me to eat. He couldn’t believe his ears. I couldn’t believe it. On the pale cheeks of the daughter appeared a weak blush.
He never made porridge. He couldn’t cook porridge. But even here the powers of heaven helped him. He didn’t even know how to cook it properly. Just boiled it.
My daughter ate a few spoons and smiled.
“God came to me today,” Katya whispered, “and said that we would be fine and I would recover.”
— All right. Thank God, my father whispered tears.
Since then, my daughter has recovered. Within a week, she could have been sitting. And he kept praying. He prayed day and night as soon as his daughter fell asleep.
God, the Creator of all living things, I implore you to have pity on Your servant Katerina and bestow healing on her body. Only Your help will heal her, only Your power can work miracles, only You can give salvation and deliver her from suffering. Do so, O Merciful One, that the pain may recede and never return, that the soul may feel the divine power, and the body may be rid of the disease. Your strength will wash the wounds of the weak, which will heal instantly. Your mercy, O Lord, will strengthen faith and deliver Katherine from illness. Forever. Amen.
He was happy. Now he was happy. This is what real human happiness is.
(Real story) Authored by Burakoff
The Holy Land Charitable Foundation
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Orthodox stories from life
