Maria
Podlesnaya
Artist:
Kathryn Andrews Fincher
Close
your eyes and imagine the following picture. It’s summertime, a hot midday in
July. You’re five years old. A huge bumblebee just landed on your outstretched
hand. Or, possibly you saw the golden disc of a sunflower for the first time in
your life. Or, you picked a strawberry. You’re running barefoot along a
sun-heated path towards your old and cozy house to sneak inside its refreshing
coolness and flop down on the creaking boards into a big room with a wood
stove. That’s where your daddy is reading a book in his armchair. As you run,
you’re worried about only one thing—how to reach him as fast as possible. You
burst into the room, clamber up on his knees, lean on his chest sputtering with
excitement over what you’ve just seen or experienced, and whisper, “Daddy,
Daddy!” as if these words have bubbled over from the innermost depths of your
heart. He tears himself away from reading his book, hugs you tightly, stroking
your hair with his strong and generous hand, and tenderly looks at you while
all you can do is to keep saying, “Daddy, Daddy!..” Nothing else is necessary.
Your whole world is in these words. And your happiness. No other thing can
transmit fatherly love better than a simple touch of your father’s hand as it
lovingly strokes your head.
But
here you are, all grown-up. You’re far from being a five-year-old. You’ve
learned a lot and gained life’s experience. You’re happy around your friends
and affectionate with your parents, you can tell funny jokes, or you could even
compose poems… You’re creative and jovial, in other words. But when it comes to
talking with the One Who is so near, Who awaits so keenly to have our awareness
and thought, or for the minute we meant to spend with Him, we for some reason
look somber and put on the air of solemnity focusing all our thoughts on
reading a prayer book, passionately immersed in prayer. Somehow, we have
trouble establishing a personal connection with Him Who is the most Creative,
the Dearest, the Most Loving and the Loved One.
For
some reason, we have trouble establishing a personal connection with the
Dearest, the Most Loving, and the Loved One—with God
It
takes a while to find time and we get annoyed if we can’t and we put our
conversation away for later. We treat it as if we’re supposed to call the
office of the most illustrious personality and have a businesslike
conversation. We draw a dividing line between our life, with its pleasures,
sadness, jokes, emotions, songs, idle talk with friends, and what’s outside
that life, a particularly exclusive, personal side. That’s the one we reserve
for our communication with God. As if He isn’t with us when we’re waiting for a
bus to come, or He doesn’t enjoy seeing us planting hydrangeas in the garden,
or He doesn’t cry with us when we hurt a knee, or fail a job interview. It
looks as if we limit ourselves like the prim and proper housewives of old who
protected their expensive china set inside the cupboards for a particularly solemn
occasion that hardly ever takes place.
We
seemingly do it with all good intentions. And why not, isn’t prayer a serious
thing? You can’t just start praying at the drop of a hat! We have to mature
spiritually, preparing to arrive at it with focus and concentration. Because
God Is a serious Person, He’s unlike your neighbor whom you can easily engage
in a chat. Besides, there should be a reason for a talk, as you can’t wantonly
bug Him. Isn’t that true? Or, maybe it’s not?
Recently,
I had a conversation with an old friend who like my husband, a priest, and I,
had a young child. She complained that there’s practically no time left for her
prayer rule; the exhaustion and lack of daily routine takes its toll, so she
wondered: How can one have a baby and keep prayer alive or still lead the
spiritual life? How can we, really? In Batiushka’s and my humble opinion, this
question concerns not only young mothers. We will share a few simple tips based
on our experience but we won’t reinvent the wheel…
First
of all, I don’t understand—if He’s the most caring, wondrous, and loving
Father, why can’t we appeal to Him with that endearing, exciting “Daddy,
Daddy?”
Where
do we hide our inner five-year-old child who needs that firm father’s hand so
badly? Why do we neglect an open opportunity to clamber up the knees and
whisper from the bottom of our heart “Father…?” It seems at times that the
saints are just waiting for us to remember them and have a talk with them.
That’s what my husband, a priest, and I try to teach our children.
From
the very first days of our daughter’s life, we take her in our hands and carry
her to the icons after the meal. It sounds so simple! We read the prayers of
thanksgiving and show to her the icon of the Lord lit by an oil lamp.
Gradually, she begins to focus on things with a conscious gaze, and the joy of
a simple appeal to God settles into the recesses of her grateful heart. You may
not find time to read the daily prayer rule, but you will surely find time for
simpler things! It only gets better from there! There are so many icons in a
prayer corner at home! A child takes so much interest attentively absorbing
this silent conversation. We don’t read any akathists to the saints or sing the
troparions (I don’t even know them by heart!) But what we do is appeal to every
saint and gradually build a dialogue with this or that saint while as I hold
her in my arms, my daughter scans their faces, taking in the peace, warmth,
attention, and love that exudes from these icons. “Rejoice, St. Mitrophan of
Voronezh. Pray to God for us!” We step forward to the next icon. “Rejoice, St.
Seraphim of Vyritsa, pray to the Lord for us!” We take one more step. “Holy
Equal-to-the-Apostles Nina, ask the Lord’s blessing for us on this day!”
Step
by step, it all comes to life and gives us a sense of purpose. Every saint is
special. Why can’t we speak to them about something so dear to them? Besides, a
baby will find it even more interesting. Over time, her soul will feel that it
isn’t just an icon but a real person, her friend! “Rejoice, Holy Father Luke!
Please pray and help her pass another exam at a medical school!” That’s how my
husband calms me down before every test. You take Holy Hierarch Luke by one
hand and Venerable Agapitus of the Kiev Caves by another, with Cosmas and
Damian standing by—and off you go!
A
saint is not simply an image on his icon. He’s a real person, your friend!
Secondly,
every more or less church-going Christian likely knows that prayer is a
conversation or dialogue. What then could be more lively and diverse than a
conversation? We have no specific or strict regimen on how to behave with our
parents or siblings; something like, “There are fifty words we have to say in
the morning and a hundred in the evening”, or else there will be a fight!
Neither do we have any particular obligatory topics of conversation, or only
one possible way to address our family members. When you’re calling your
mother, all you want is to have a chat with her, or discuss an interesting TV
program, or get some insider information about a recipe, or maybe just tell her
how much you love her. It often happens that you wake up in the morning and you
are desperate to run around the house and hug and kiss everyone like you did in
your childhood. Or, the other way around: As you leave your room and see how
everyone is peacefully enjoying their morning routine, the aroma of freshly
made pancakes wafting from the kitchen… You just greet everyone briefly, take a
seat next to the kitchen door and indulge in that sweetly divine fragrance of
familial love.
Isn’t
this what we experience in our relationship with the Lord and the saints?
Because isn’t it true that once in a while we are longing to simply smile and
say: “Lord, it’s so good that You exist and I know that You exist!” Or, at
other times, all you want to do is to open the Psalter, read it and marvel at
its words, so ornate and precise, sweet as honey and luscious like candy, about
Him Whom you love so much. That really depends, doesn’t it?
Thirdly,
it could be an odd way to do it and we shouldn’t misuse it, but we are often
drawn to speak to Him in a straightforward manner. When we grieve, “Daddy, help
me!” Or if we are hurt, we slump to the floor before the Lord’s icon, face
hidden in hands: “Father, someone offended me so badly, it hurts so bad. You
were offended, too, but You forgave them, help me!” Or, if you feel great, you
are walking along the street and the lilacs are in bloom, an unfamiliar bird is
singing in the tree nearby and the air in May smells delicious, and this same
moment will never return as tomorrow will bring something new, but you take a
deep breath of this fragrant air and say: “Lord, life feels so good”!
For
some reason, we often disregard an opportunity to share our daily joys and
sorrows with the Lord, the Most Holy Mother of God, and the saints. Why can’t
we simply look in the face of the saints so dear to our hearts and say: “Lord,
I love my husband You have given me so much!” Then, smile and continue: “Thank
You! Glory to You!” Isn’t this also a prayer? It is, and a very great one! You
have no time to read through all the morning and evening prayer rule? Sounds
familiar. But it would be wrong to say that you don’t have time for this little
bit of prayer.
We
often disregard an opportunity to share our daily joys and sorrows with the
Lord, the Most Holy Mother of God, and the saints
That’s
the only way for us to teach the most important thing to our children: Christ
is Life, more alive than others, and more real than you or me. Teach them that
He is with you. It is enough to pray next to your child and together with him
using simple words that arise from the depths of your heart, avoiding elaborate
exultations, kneeling, weeping, or any excesses. It is usually sufficient to
speak to Him as a living Person. I was very impressed with the practice by
ancient Christians to arrange a table with an extra place set for an additional
person. I can’t remember if it was a plate or a bowl. I doubt they had forks
then… But I often wish I’d do the same.
A
small but telling example. Holy Equal-to-the-Apostles Nina is our daughter’s
Heavenly patron. Our baby gets fussy—she pulls a face with brows knit and her
little chin wrinkled. When this happens I bring her to the icon of her saint
and tell her, “Look, Nina, here’s your holy patron saint, you can complain
about anything to her anytime. She is your best friend, the most loyal and faithful
one. For life! So, go and complain to her!” My daughter would rumble and
grumble studying her saint’s face intently, then her mood lightens up, and soon
her baby face is lit with a smile again. May she always know, right from her
infancy, that in any trouble, under any challenging circumstances, she can come
to the icon and mentally tell her problem to the Holy Equal-to-the-Apostles
Nina.
No
matter how old we are, how much life experience we have or how much joy and
sorrow we’ve been through, we must keep in mind that it’s there—our home with
creaking floorboards, cozy and cool in the heat of the summer. And here it is—a
large room with an armchair in the middle, in the most exclusive corner of our
soul, and He is always there next to us—He Whom we so long to embrace no matter
what’s happened, to clamber onto His knees, lean on Him, and sighing from the
fullness of our hearts, whisper: “Daddy, Daddy!..”
Maria
Podlesnaya
Translation
by Luibov Ambrose
Pravoslavie.ru
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