SOMEONE “FROM ABOVE” MAY HAVE ASKED
ME TO HELP
Irina Krikheli
Last summer, I hoped to find someone
who would look after my ailing mother, and a friend of mine told me about a
woman. She came, and we got into a conversation. Maria Ivanovna (that’s what
we’ll call her) turned out to be an elderly woman. She amazed me when she said
that she “sees her own self in each bedridden person and would like to be
treated the same way she takes care for those who need her help.” Maria
Ivanovna did not look like someone who was hard-up; she said her children
provided her with everything, but she could not live without an occupation. She
was so used to being responsible for someone that she could not live idly.
Maria Ivanovna told me her story, and it made me weep.
“I have two children. I am the happy
mother and grandmother of four grandchildren. That’s now. But I had to go
through many troubles before I could hear the children laughing in my home.
“I got married at a very young age.
My husband loved me so much, we were so happy, but we could not have
children—that was the only thing that darkened our life. Finally, we resolved
to adopt a child.
“It was in the 1970s. We headed for
the orphanage in the suburbs. I was sure that I would somehow feel with my
heart which baby should be ours, which one should be mine. We saw a lot of
babies, but I felt nothing.
“We were about to leave when someone
unexpectedly said there was one more baby, a girl born twenty days earlier. She
was severely ill; the doctors said she would not live more than two or three
days, and only a miracle could save her. In fact, she was like the “living
dead”, as they put it. As I heard those words, that the baby was the living
dead, something inside of me changed. I yelled, “Show me the baby!” They gave
us the baby but did their best to dissuade us from adopting her. The little
girl had a severe form of sepsis, her skin was blotched. I took the baby girl
in my arms and cried. I felt it was our baby. The doctors would say to my
husband, “Your wife is insane, you can’t take this child, she will die before
you get home. There are many kids that are healthy. Choose anyone you like!”
Then I said to my husband, “Take her in your arms. If you feel nothing, we will
not adopt her!” He did and tears flowed from his eyes.
“We took the girl right away, without
any documents, and dashed to the city through the snow (it was winter) to see
the best doctor we knew. He said only the most potent antibiotic could save the
girl, but it couldn’t be found, not in the pharmacy nor in the hospital. “If
you are lucky enough to find the antibiotic and give it by injection for at
least a month, you may possibly save the baby’s life,” the doctor said.
“We found the antibiotic. Each dose
cost a fortune, but we bought as many doses as we could. I gave it to the girl
every four hours, both day and night, for over a month. Three months later, we
came back to the orphanage and they did not recognize her. They just could not
believe she was that dying baby. We completed the legal formalities concerning
the adoption and took the baby home.
“The girl was growing; we were
pleased with her little victories, and a few years later we made up our mind to
adopt another child.
“In the orphanage, we saw a boy who
looked exactly like my husband. But his chest wall and legs were badly
deformed, and we were told he would not be able to walk. Moreover, his little
body bore numerous scars. His story was as follows: The boy was found lying in
a box in the street, with was no one nearby. He was first taken to the police,
then to the orphanage. He was afraid of men, panic would seize him every time
saw a man, and that fear haunted him for a long time.
“The doctors again discouraged us
from adopting him, suggested that we should instead choose a healthier baby.
But I tried to imagine what could have happened to him he in the orphanage. I
decided that I would adopt him, I would spare no effort to help him and make
sure he could walk. Again, we signed the necessary documents and our long
battle for his life began. We tried to treat him with massage, and I learnt how
to administer it. We consulted a psychologist and speech pathologist. The chest
wall was restoring to its normal anatomy, his legs were becoming stronger, and
our little boy could take some steps at home at first and then outdoors. We
were delighted by all his victories and refused to give up. There was only one
problem that persisted—his fear of men caused by some dreadful memories. The
fear abated two months before my husband tragically died.
“We hoped to adopt one more child. I
knew there was a girl in the orphanage whose mother had brought her there and
then left, but promised to come back. Many years passed, but she would neither
come nor call. We were preparing the necessary documents and regularly visiting
the child when her mother suddenly turned up. She had been abroad. Having
earned some money, she took her daughter from the orphanage.
“After my husband died, I had to
commit myself to hard work; I had to provide for the children, and I wanted to
give them good education. It was not easy, but I was not alone—my children were
with me, and they were the meaning of my life.”
***
I would like to note that Maria Ivanovna
turned out to be a very good caregiver. She did a lot to help my mother, even
more than she was supposed to do. For example, she used to buy tasty food for
my mother in order to please her. Though she herself ate almost nothing during
the day she was a great cook, and my mother even gained some weight.
Maria Ivanovna is no longer my
mother’s caregiver, but she continues to come to our place from time to time to
see her and always brings a load of fruits and sweets. The last time she came,
she said she was going to start looking after one of her relatives. That woman
had dementia, so it wouldn’t be easy. But she could not decline the request,
because it may have been someone from above who was asking her to help.
Written down by Irina Krikheli
Translation by Maria Litzman
Pravoslavie.ru
3/14/2022
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