The station is a place where the soul is always restless. People scurry back and forth, each preoccupied with something of their own: waiting for a train, buying a ticket, or finding a place to sit down.
Trains came and went. The station was empty and filled again. In one place there was no movement.
An old lady warmed up at the end of the waiting room. All in black. Dry. Hunched. There’s a knot nearby. There was no food in it, otherwise the old woman touched it at least once during the day.
Judging by the protruding corners of the knot, it could be assumed that there was an icon, but the tip of the spare handkerchief was visible, obviously, «to death.» She had nothing else.
Evening. People settled for the night, fussing, placing suitcases so as to protect themselves from bad passers-by.
The old lady didn’t move. No, she wasn’t asleep. Her eyes were open, but indifferent to everything that was happening around her. The small shoulders shuddered unevenly, as if she was clutching some inner crying. She barely moved her fingers and lips, as if she were baptizing someone in her secret prayer.
In her helplessness, she did not seek participation and attention, she did not turn to anyone or leave her place. Sometimes the old lady turned her head towards the front door, with some heavy humility lowered it down, hopelessly swaying to the right and left, as if preparing herself for some final answer.
It’s been a tedious train station night. In the morning she sat in the same position, still silent and exhausted. Patient in her suffering, she didn’t even lie on the back of the couch.
By noon, a young mother with two children of two and three years old was not far from her. The children tinkered, played, ate and stared at the old lady, trying to get her into their game.
One of the toddlers approached her and touched her finger to the floor of a black coat. Grandma turned her head and looked as if she had seen the world for the first time. This touch brought her back to life, her eyes warmed and smiled, and her hand tenderly touched the linen hairs.
The woman reached for the child to wipe her nose and, noticing the waiting look of the old woman facing the door, asked her: “Mom, who are you waiting for?” What is your train like?
The old lady was taken by surprise. She hesitated, fussed, not knowing where to go, sighed deeply and seemed to whisper a terrible answer: “Daughter, I do not have a train!”. And bent even lower.
A neighbor with children realized that something was wrong. She moved, sympathetically leaned over to her grandmother, hugged her, begged, “Mom, tell me what’s wrong with you?” Tell me! Tell me, Mamo, she turned to the old lady again and again. — Mamo, are you hungry? Take it!
And she handed her boiled potatoes. And then, without asking her consent, she wrapped her in her furry shawl. The child also handed her his tarnished piece and groaned: “Eat, woman.”
She hugged the child and pinned his piece to his lips. «Thank you, baby,» she moaned.
There was a lump in her throat… And suddenly something ripe in her and broke through so powerful and powerful that she threw her bitter misfortune into this huge station space: «Lord! Forgive him! she moaned and huddled into a small lump, covering her face with her hands.
Weeping, weeping, swaying: Son, son… The only one. Unlovable… My summer sunshine… The sparrow is my restless… Brought… Left it.
She was silent and crossed and said, ‘Lord! Have mercy on his sinner.”
And she had no more strength to speak or cry because of her despair.
«Kids, hold on to your grandmother,» the woman shouted and rushed to the checkout.
“Good people! Help me! I need a ticket! Take the old lady over there, she pointed at the end of the hall, she will be my mother! I have the train now!
They went out to land, and the whole station accompanied them with wet glances.
“Well, kids, I found my mother, and you – grandmother,” she said with joy.
She held an old woman with one hand and a bag and children with the other.
I looked at them and prayed quietly and thanked God for this meeting. Strangely, most of those to whom I tell about this case, which I witnessed a few years ago at the station of the city of Kurgan, do not believe that just like this, in a few minutes, a person could make such an important decision for himself.
I am not trying to convince anyone, I am not trying to explain anything. Everyone should feel it for themselves. And how can you explain that our heart sometimes needs a moment to make a decision, if, of course, it is alive and loving to God and others?
For me, this case was another confirmation of the wise faithfulness of the words of Archimandrite Seraphim (Tyapochkin): “Forget this word ‘accident’, there are no accidents.”
Author: Tatiana Kvashnina
The Holy Land Charitable Foundation
Soul investment!
Orthodox stories from life
