"Whenever God decides the laws of nature of are circumvented"
by
Metropolitan Nicholas of Mesogaia, Greece
The timeline is April 1985. Olga, a ten year old girl, with a brain tumor
is undergoing radiation therapy in order to shrink a cancerous growth. The condition has plagued her with terrible
pain and dizziness. Her parents are
simple, ordinary people from the City of Athens. The doctors in Greece determined from the
very beginning the very difficult location the tumor was in. The only hope for the girl’s recovery was God
and possibly medical care in America.
One of the family’s relatives lived in Boston and invited them to come
to that city where the best children’s hospital in the world was located. The family put their affairs in order and
travelled to the last place where there was hope for the recovery of their
daughter.
Their story is filled with
suffering and stress. How is it
possible for God to allow such things to happen? In seven years of marriage the wife could not
get pregnant. They are ordinary people
without having any special knowledge of faith.
As their hopes for getting pregnant were diminishing, God granted them a
baby girl. They glorified God for this
gift and they centered their lives on this gift they were granted. When the girl reached the age of ten, she
started to exhibit strange symptoms such as severe headaches and anxiety. They started a series of tests and diagnosed
the problem, a diagnosis that when a person hears it, their legs are cut from
under them. It is a diagnosis that
rattles one’s head, tears one’s soul asunder and rips the heart apart.
Having this tragic diagnosis as
their companion, the couple leaves their jobs in Athens and the three of them
arrive in America. In taking this trip
of mercy, they do not know when, how or if all of them will return to their
home. But that which accompanies them is
a simple, genuine, and strong faith. A
year and a half before, a series of cassettes came into their possession. They are cassettes of sermons which totally
changed their outlook on life. These
sermons filled them with faith. It
filled them with a faith that comes from deep within a person. And what was the answer of God? When this couple did not attend Church, the
birth of Olga took place. As soon as
they turned to faith, cancer presented its ugly face! Why would God do these things? Why is not an opinion expressed about this
situation in a way that no one wants to say it? Is it possible that in the
final analysis, we believe in a God who does not exist and we do not know the God
of truth? Is it possible that we must
discover who He is and not how we want Him to be?
Olga cooperated very well with the
team of Dr. John Shillito at the Boston Hospital. He is possibly the best oncologist in the
Children’s Hospital of Boston. All the
attendants did everything possible with a spirit of love to help the
situation. They treated the girl as if
she was the only patient they had. All
indicators appeared initially that things were moving along well until suddenly
Olga slipped into a coma. This was
followed by a series of tests that showed that the tumor had spread extensively
in the brain. All hope seemed to vanish
with these tests. The only thing left to
do was to inform the parents. The
parents must be informed so that they can decide whether the child should stay
in Boston until the time they can later escort the body to Greece. Or they can take her to Greece before she
expires. If the parents decide to do the
latter, they must understand that there are international laws that regulate
the transfer of terminally ill patients.
The doctor of the hospital must certify that the patient will not die
during the flight.
All of this took place on Sunday,
April 28, 1985, on the Sunday of the Myrrh-bearers. The parents at this point have not been told
anything. They are in agony and suspect
the worst. At 6 p.m. Dr. Shillito will
talk to them in detail about the situation.
None of the Greek-American volunteers at the hospital wanted to
translate the report of the doctor to the parents. They all avoided offering themselves. It is such a difficult thing to inform
parents that their child has no hope of survival and is dying.
Finally the responsibility for
telling the parents was mine. I had
heard about the situation but had not met either the child or the parents. I could not possibly avoid the responsibility
of telling the parents. I accepted to
lift along with the parents this truly unbearable burden. It is something that cannot be endured.
I took the elevator up to the
eighth floor, to the floor that houses the cancer afflicted children. I found it to be very difficult. I felt uptight, weak and uneasy as I
proceeded ahead. I entered the
corridor. I was perplexed when I entered
a room where there were three children in rocking chairs hooked up to tubes
dispensing chemotherapy. Some of the
children had bald heads and laughingly were watching cartoons on
television. On one side of the room
there was a little girl on a sofa. She was thirteen or fourteen years old and
deep in thought. She sat there lost in a
world of the unknown. Her eyes were
filled with pain. With deep piercing
eyes, we both made eye contact with one another. Why should these children suffer? Why is it that instead of being filled with
the sweetness of a future, they are now tasting the bitterness of a hospital
and suffering the grief of uncertainty?
Why is this so, my dear God? Just
a few minutes ago, before arriving at the entrance to the hospital, I passed a
local park with little children playing.
They were unaware of anything special happening in the hospital and
their adoring parents were laughing as they played. What a great difference, what an injustice, what
an unexplainable difference with what is happening in the hospital!
I then met three people who spoke
Greek. There were two men and a
woman. Without a doubt, two of them were
the parents of Olga and the third was Olga’s uncle. I approached them and we introduced
ourselves. They thanked me for being
there and before we were able to say two words, we were called into Dr.
Shillito’s office. As I entered the
office, my eyes focused on a triptych with three pictures. These are the daughters of the doctor. They were three adorable daughters that
brightened the doctor’s office. He was adoring them. It was a natural and blessed expression of
the doctor. Olga is in the adjourning
room, her face changed by her fight with death.
Her parents are crushed.
The doctor, after giving a short
introduction, went directly into the issue at hand. “Olga, as you know, has a tumor in the third
lobe of the brain which is not operable.
We attempted to shrink it with radiation. Initially, Olga responded very well, so much
so that we had hopes for her. But
unfortunately, the other day she slipped into a coma from which, as the tests
indicate, she will not recover.” The
parents were listening very carefully to every word. At hearing this, the father broke down into
sobs. The mother held back her emotions.
“In other words doctor, speak to us
frankly.” “I have determined that Olga
will not make it. She is slowly dying.” “What do you mean, she is slowly dying
doctor.” I dared to ask? “I mean as we
are talking, in a few hours, maybe during the course of the night she will
die. I believe, without any doubt, she
will not live through the night.
Theoretically I can give you a time that she might make it to tomorrow.” “In other words, doctor, only a miracle can
save her,” says the mother. “Yes, only a miracle,” repeats the doctor. The father continues to cry with controlled
sobs.
“Doctor, we want to thank you very
much for all that you have done for Olga for such a long time,” says the
mother. “We may be humanly losing the
battle but we are preparing for a miracle.
Either, in spite of your prognosis, our daughter may get well or she may
become a little angel at the throne of God.
Isn’t that a small miracle? Do
you realize what a good girl she is? We,
naturally, are praying with all of our strength only for the first option. That expresses how little faith we have. But if God should permit the second thing to
happen then we will also accept that as a gift.
Simply speaking, we now must turn our whole attention toward God. Our mistake is that we should have done this
from the beginning. You see, we first
believed in the doctors and then in God.”
“That is the way it is. Your faith
is that which will help you now,” said the doctor. “No, doctor, faith does not
help. That faith is human. It is our
thing. He who helps is only God
Himself.”
In all these things that are
happening, I am simply a translator and a startled listener. What power, what faith that woman has! And that, which she is saying, does not
indicate to us simply her psychological feelings; neither is it like a sermon.
It shows that it springs up spontaneously from within her like a sense of
joy. It is simple and is calmly assuring
us that whatever she says is a reflection of the clarity of her innermost
world. It is dignity, calmness,
politeness, self control, and truth that comes forth from her mouth. The same is true with her eyes, which for so
long have had an expression of hope and have not shed one tear.
We came out of the office and sat
together so that we could get to know one another better. At times like this, people get tied to one
another directly and strongly. But here
before me I had something unfolding that was unusually profound. This woman was
open with us yet very profound. The
words that came out of her mouth had the strength and persuasiveness of
heartfelt reality. I marveled at her
strength more than anything else.
We departed from one another with a
great deal of warmth. It was necessary
for me to leave, for I had an appointment.
I was going to visit that night at 10 o’clock with the hope that I would
find Olga still alive. Every so often, I
would call the hospital information office to find out how she was doing.
It is now 10:30 at night. Olga is still holding on. Mr. Costas and Mrs. Maria, those outstanding
parents, calmly are prepared for all eventualities, but they are hoping and
praying for a small miracle, as people say.
God who brought Olga into this world—is a great miracle in itself—can He
not now also protect her? Simply
speaking, they say the problem is their sins!!!
At 11 p.m. the hospital staff
arrived on the elevator with portable beds, pillows and sheets for those who
are staying the night with the patients.
That hospital is amazing. The
social services are prepared for all things.
The hospital policy is for the parents to be able to spend the night
with their children if they so desire.
But the parents of Olga have a hard time sleeping. They prefer to talk and keep vigil. In fact the doctor had said that Olga would
not live through the night. Their faith
was indescribable. They spoke of
miracles as if they were common natural things that happen. They were discussing eternity like we usually
talk about everyday life. They believed
that the will of God, whichever it would be, would be a great blessing to
them. Frankly speaking, on the one hand
they would experience boundless joy if she lived. On the other hand, they would again experience
the truth. The second instance, the most
difficult one, would be the most authentic.
But in the first instance, that is the most desirable.
I stayed with them until 1:30
a.m. I could not get enough of
them. In meeting these people I had met
truly faithful human beings. I had
never met this type of faith. That type
of faith not only functions after their loved one dies; but is a faith that
functions psychologically and as a means of consolation for them. It was also a faith that would be expressed
a few moments before the last breath of their only child. I must admit that it was the first time that
I have met people that had this type of faith.
Next to us was a motionless Olga, in a deep coma. She had no communication with the world
around her. Maybe she was communicating
with the other world which is unknown to us at this moment. Now and then the parents would steal a look
at the expressionless body of their daughter, with painful doubt of unjustified
hope.
Olga finally lived through the
night. The doctor’s timeline about her
death was wrong. Who knows? Maybe the medical opinion of the doctor would
fail. It is so wonderful sometimes when
science is proven wrong!
The following morning I called some
women and shared with them some of my profound impressions of the family. I
advised them to make another visit to Olga in order to give the family their
support and also so that their own lives would be reinforced by the
experience.
Olga continued to live throughout
all of Monday. That night, returning
from work, I visited with the family.
The parents had decided to return to Greece with Olga and allow her to
die there. During that Monday they made
all the arrangements for the trip.
Finally, they arranged for Olga to leave if she was still alive on
Wednesday, May 1, 1985 on an Olympic Airlines flight from New York. I again stayed with them quite late enjoying
the grace of these incredible people. I
was also awaiting the departure of Olga either on the plane for Greece or with
the angels to her eternal home. They
were intense moments, very real moments next to a world of living faith of
immense dimensions.
It was Tuesday morning, April
30th. My telephone rang. One of the three ladies that I communicated
with the previous day had spoken to her spiritual father, the well-known Elder
Porphyrios. He had the Grace of foresight.
He was internationally known as a holy man. He sees things where human vision cannot
penetrate. He said to her that he would
pray for Olga but they also should pray along with him and God will do His
thing. She came to the conclusion that
there was now some hope.
“Please”, I said to her, “do not
hasten to say anything about this. You
know the situation”. I knew the parameters of the issue; the girl is dying. I am perplexed that she is still living. You, yourself, have seen it with your own
eyes. It is best that we say very little
so that many things can happen” I said
to her, “It is better this way than for us to give them hope and then nothing
happens.”
Olga held on through Tuesday.
About ten o’clock that night, I arrived for my accustomed visit of faith
with the family. I entered the room and
saw an unusual scene for an American hospital.
Olga was in her bed, known to us in her blessedness. Mr. Costas was sitting away from her. Mrs. Maria, the mother, was with Mrs.
Vasilia, an exceptional Greek-American volunteer. She was truly the mother of all those
children. They were next to each other
saying an unknown service of supplication. It was a supplication that was
unknown to me. They had lit the incense,
a candle, placed an icon of the Holy Mother on the child, and they were
praying. I sat exactly next to the door.
In fact I was sitting half way in and half way out of the room. The nurse approached and asked me, “What are
they doing? What is that they are burning which smells like that? Do they belong to some strange Church?” I responded to her emphatically, “They belong
to the Eastern Orthodox Christian Church,” thinking that she would understand
something about our Eastern culture. She
left the room. The rest of us remained
in the room. I knew many prayers but the
prayers that I was hearing, I was hearing for the first time.
In fifteen minutes they finished
with the prayers. They had acquired a
little olive oil from a votive light from the famous shrine of the Holy Mother
of Tinos, Greece and from the Holy Mother of Kanala. It was the first time I heard the name “Holy
Mother of Kanala”. They anointed Olga in
the sign of the Cross on her forehead, on her chest, and on her right and left
hands. The child was motionless. As soon as they made the sign of the Cross on
her left foot, Olga lifted her leg, put it down and repeated the movement
again. There was nothing else. The two women broke out in prayerful
shouts. “Holy Mother, do your miracle,”
and they repeatedly made the sign of the Cross while kissing Olga on her
forehead. Olga remained immersed in her
own world.
The child is motionless. In a short while the mother approached. The mother asks of Olga “Do you hear me dear
Olga?” Olga nods affirmatively. “Open
your eyes my dear child.” The child
tries unsuccessfully to open her eyes.
“Give a kiss to Mrs. Vasilia.”
Rhythmically she moved her lips.
“I am now rationalizing. Surely we have seen a burst of life. I ask Debbie, the nurse, if she has all the
papers ready for the next nurse that is coming on duty. The shifts change at 11p.m. for all
indications show that within a little while the child will die.”
Time passes by. Olga returns to her previous state. She is totally quiet and immobile. She has no sense of communication with the
world around her. No one dares to disturb her.
It is now past midnight. Mrs.
Maria cannot control herself anymore.
She bends over and kisses her daughter on the forehead. She seemed to respond to that, but it was
rather her imagination. The women are
sure that something has changed. Mr.
Costas emotionally is following what is happening with doubt. I am again rationalizing. I can’t get it out of my head that in the
best of situations we are talking about small changes. The child in reality is finished. I do not have the slightest hope for a
recovery. Mrs. Vasilia tells me that I
do not have faith. Who knows? Maybe she is justified in saying this.
The doctor was saying that Olga
would die Sunday night. Today is
Wednesday and the child steadily, if not slightly, is showing signs of the
breath of life and communication. We are
divided between those who believe in her recovery and those who are skeptical
and are waiting for death. I live
amongst the coldness of the second group, having logic as my companion. I bid farewell to the family who is leaving
for Greece. A special ambulance
transports the child to New York in the condition that we have just
described. The child is escorted on her
trip by a nurse and she travels to Greece on a bed. It has been decided that there she will die.
That next Friday we called a number
in Greece that someone had given us to find out what was happening with the
child. They told us that Olga is
steadily improving but she is still lethargic.
Simply speaking she is somehow communicating. They are going to do more tests on Saturday. We arranged to communicate by telephone on
Tuesday. This will be ten days after
hearing the diagnosis of her impending death.
We attempted many times to call them.
There was no answer. We surmised
that Olga had died and her parents had taken her to the village to bury her and
to allow them to get some rest. After two more weeks we found a priest in
Boston and had a prayer read for the dead.
This was a prayer from our hearts.
The month of May arrived, then the
month of June went by, and we had even entered the month of July. We had not received any news, and the same
scenario continued for us in Boston.
Other children had arrived at the hospital from Greece, and the usual
stress mixed in with joy and pain was the daily routine.
On July 8th, as soon as I arrived
in Athens from London, I decided to make some telephone calls. I called Mrs. Maria and Mr. Costas. Maybe they have returned from the
village. “Who is this please?” I hear a little childish voice on the other
end of the line. “Who are you?” I asked
quite startled. “I am Olga,” answered
the childish voice. “You are Olga, which
Olga?” I asked with embarrassment.
She gave me her whole name and with
a sense of excitement she expressed her suspicion at who I was. She said: “The Holy Mother did her
miracle.” Olga invited me to visit her
house so that I may ask her questions about geography, arithmetic, etc. She is inviting me, the person who rushed to
have a prayer service for her death. I
asked for her mother. “How great God is
who is our God,” Mrs. Maria said to me from the bottom of her heart. I ended the conversation and left immediately
for their home. When I got there a
lovely little girl opened the door for me.
Her hair had begun to grow back again.
She was a little hyperactive, impressionable and filled with life. I asked her the questions that she had asked
me. She answered with joy. I found myself playing with her. I felt that I had been betrayed by my
logic. I could not believe that which I
was seeing. Previously I believed in
that which I did not see. The life of
Olga constitutes the strongest beating that I have ever received for my
disbelief.
Twenty five years have since
passed. Olga has graduated from the university.
She gives joy and happiness to her parents. She has also acquired a
younger sister. She has grown to be a
young lady. She has made liars of the
greatest scientists in the world. She
has torn asunder the logic of proven statistics. She has certified that “whatever God decides
negates the laws of nature.” And surely
in our days the Lord of Hosts lives.
This
miracle is taken from the book “Wherever God decides the laws of nature are
circumvented.” It was written by
Metropolitan Nicholas Mesogaias and Lavriotiki, Greece. It was first published
in 2009. The real life miracle is taken
from the first section of the book pages 51 to 68.
Glorified
is the name of God in his Holy Saints
Metropolitan
Nicholas or Mesogaia
Translated
from the Greek by:
+Fr.
Constantine (Charles) J. Simones, Waterford, CT, USA, January 2, 2015
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