Born in Moscow in 1942 when I was seven years old, I suffered pneumonia. The disease turned into a serious complication: my arms and legs were taken away, I was completely immobilized. Sometimes my parents moved me from place to place, mostly I lay there. To what doctors parents did not turn, but medicine was powerless. The parents heard about Mother Matrona from their friend, her name was Aunt Pasha, I do not remember the surname. She told them that there is a woman in Zagorsk who helps many people from all diseases. My parents hired a car and I was taken to Zagorsk. We arrived at the church (now I don’t remember which one), asked the pilgrims how to find it, and they told us. She lived in a village nearby. We drove from the church for about half an hour. We arrived early. There were a lot of people in her house, everyone was on the street. My parents took the line and waited. Suddenly, the door opens, the woman who took care of her mother comes out, goes all the way, goes to her father and says, «Take the girl and follow me.» I was in the car. My father took me in his arms and carried me into the house. My mother told me to leave me for three days. She said to him, «In three days you’re going to pick her up and she’s going to go with you to the car.» Mother was sitting on a metal bed, covered with pillows. She told me to put me on her bed so she could reach my hands. As I see it now: in a white handkerchief in small blue peas, the dress is dark blue also in small peas, buttons on the chest. The handles are small, plump, the sleeves at the elastic dress, the eye sockets are empty. The room was full of icons. The light was reflected from the icons, and it was as if light and warmth emanated from the mother. The room was filled with this light. I was lying next to her on the bed, and my mother was receiving visitors.I felt that my mother had entered me, her warmth, her love for God, her love for me.
On the first day, my mother constantly held me by one hand and then by the other, constantly stroking, and I felt how warm my hands were and how they were moving away.
On the second day, her mother called the woman who took care of her and said to her, “Put her on the floor, or she’s lying down.” She said to me, “You’re lying down, you’re lying down!” I was very scared because I had been lying motionless for a year. The woman supported me, and I stood on my feet and stood by the bed on which my mother was sitting. Then she told me to put me on the bed so she could reach my feet with her hands. During the day she took visitors and stroked my legs, and at night we were alone. She napped a little, sitting in pillows, prayed a lot and stroked my legs and hands.
On the third day, my mother told me to walk a little, asked a woman to help me, she helped me move my legs. I was really scared. My mother told me, “Move your legs, you have walking feet.”
On the fourth day my father came to pick me up and I was walking to the car with my feet. Of course, I walked with fear, barely crossing my legs, after a year of complete immobility, my legs did not listen well to me. I needed more time to get used to being perfectly healthy.
My mother read people’s thoughts like an open book. When I was lying on her bed the first day, I thought that I would not get up, I would not walk, but she said to me: “In three days you will go by yourself, with your feet, and those who do not believe me, I send home.” I fell asleep, and she said to me, “You don’t sleep well.” Now you will quickly fall asleep, sleep and have good dreams! She could read thoughts from a distance. When I saw her, she called the woman who was taking care of her, and she started counting on her fingers — as I now see, they are so plump, small — counted down and said, “You go to the queue, count the thirteenth in line.” Let her look for someone else to help her.” She did not take money, took food, and even then only her own, home, and distributed it to those houses where she sent the remaining people to spend the night. I didn’t leave anyone on the street at night, I took care of everyone.
Nina Chizhik
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Orthodox stories from life
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