And it all happened like this. In February, the eldest daughter and her mother went to the market to look for things for the spring, I stayed at home with my three daughters. We decided to go see the monastery, which was located in a neighboring village; the journey was not long. We got together quickly and joyfully; it was still an adventure, albeit a small one. By the way, the roads are a mess, but that’s okay, we sat down and drove happily with songs. We stop, take pictures and go again — in general, everyone is happy. The road to the neighboring village passed through the forest. And bad luck, we, of course, got stuck on the forest road. And no matter how I tried to dig it up and put branches under the wheels, nothing good came of it. The children began to get tired of what was happening, and they were no longer happy about such a trip, they began to ask to go home. The phone died, there is no charger in the car, they were completely hit. It’s good that at least the tank is full of gas. We are sitting in the car, cuckooing, waiting for at least someone, but there is no one. About 4 hours passed, or even more, then a priest comes out of the forest in an old cassock, even greasy, a cross weighs heavily on his chest and in his hands — lo and behold — a large snow shovel. He said hello, introduced himself as Father John, and we began to dig out the car. The work was going on happily, I was digging, he was dragging branches, the children also perked up and no longer whined. We dug ourselves out. When I offered to give him a ride to the monastery, he refused and said that he liked to walk. Having thanked him, we hugged him, he blessed us, and we finally went to the monastery to light candles for good health. Arriving at the monastery, I told the story that happened to us on the way, to which I heard that they did not have any Father John. But in the forest there is a grave of some priest, the old grave on the sign says priest father… But the name is not indicated, and no one knows where this grave came from and when. It had already gotten significantly darker, and we drove with the children back home; the children all fell asleep in the car. We arrived home, my wife was crying, where were you, I can’t get through to you, I’m worried. I told the story of our trip, we sat and thought with her, and then we went to bed; the children had already been asleep for a long time. In the morning, the children all vying with each other to tell their mother how their father helped them yesterday. In general, miracles and that’s all.
Winter has passed, spring is in full swing, it’s warm, everyone is wearing T-shirts and dresses. My wife and I and all our children decided to go find the grave of the priest of the one they told me about in the monastery. We arrived at the place where we were stuck in the winter, got out of the car — and there it was right next to the road behind three pine trees, with an old rickety cross with a pommel. The cross has almost rotted away. We cleaned up the grave a little, laid flowers, and then went home. After that, we came to the grave more than once, put up a new cross, but the same as the old one, with a top, updated the sign, which read, although very small, Priest Father John, and at the bottom the inscription: frozen…
So here it is: he froze, but he helped us. The kingdom of heaven to him! Thank God!
Anton Molgachev, 2017
Holy Land Charitable Foundation
Investment in the Soul!
Orthodox stories from life
