Singleness of Mind

"In a vision, St. Katharine received a ring from the Lord Jesus Himself as a sign of her betrothal to Him. This ring remains on her finger to this day." -from The Prologue from Ochrid

The story of St. Katharine's life never ceases to fascinate me, nor the lives of any of the saints for that matter. There is such a great difference between her life and mine, I am very often ashamed that I carry her name. I have not been called to martyrdom as she has, but certainly we all are called to be saints. I am married and have children, but I still should wear the ring of Christ in my heart signifying that I belong to Him first.

What I notice in the saints and, in fact, what made these men and women saints, was their singleness of mind. Their eyes did not falter, they remained on Christ. My eyes and my ears and all of my senses jump from one thing to the other. I can go days without standing before the Icons and praying, yet I desire to be good, to be one with Christ. It seems like a paradox, but then I am a paradox. Somehow, with the help of God and through the intercessions of the saints, I too will come to this singleness of mind. One day, I too, will bear Christ's ring on my heart.

That One Thing Extraordinary

I remember a friend commenting to me on the lawn of our college one afternoon as we neared graduation. "You're going to just get married and have kids, while the rest of us are going to have careers."

She was obviously very angry with me, and life in general. Now that I've written this statement down I realize how ridiculous it is. How is it that it took me more than seven years to get over it? Certainly it was a combination of things, most of all how someone who was supposed to love me could say something so insensitive, but more, I took her seriously for a long time - that somehow getting married and having children was a sellout. On the surface, I believed very much in my choice. Inside, I've wavered back and forth, forever doubting myself. Glory be to God that I no longer waver. I am where I am and I am happy.

I just finished reading a biography of Picasso, and was really struck with how a man of such artistic genius could be so tormented, and so childish. He had everything in the world and yet he was in despair, always tossing away all that could give him life and ultimate happiness. It was terrifying to read of his incredible darkness, but more, how many people chose to live in the midst of his darkness, all for the sake of being in the midst of the "extraordinary."

That one thing extraordinary - I have sought this for a long time. Yes, I would love to publish a book one day. And I must confess, I have, in my pettiness, imagined doing a reading in New York and having that same friend walk in and be amazed that I was able to succeed despite my "old-fashioned" choices.

But that one thing extraordinary for me is, as Father Paul often said, to be able to make the sign of the cross before each task that I undergo. To always be seeking my salvation - to lose myself - so that it is "no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me."

I am not saying that I will not, one day, be a successful writer, but my motivation for being successful has now altogether changed. I want it for myself, to be able to make a living at what I love, not because I need to prove myself to old college acquaintances.

The only one I need to perform for is God, and He isn't even asking me to perform. He is simply asking me to accept His love, and by doing so, live out His love in this fallen world.

Vechnaya Pomyat

Today is the year anniversary of my Godmother's death. I remember I learned about her death six days after the event, and that my friend, upon telling me, assumed I already knew. I remember hardly being able to breathe, and feeling utterly devoid of all physical sensations, except for the strange tingling in my fingertips and arms. My friend's voice over the telephone came in and out like the noise of traffic. I heard nothing more that she said.

Anyone who has ever been close to me in my life who has died has left with a warning. There was time to say goodbye, but my Godmother left this world without warning. Three weeks earlier I had written her a letter in Russian telling her about my pregnancy. The letter was sitting on my desk waiting to be edited and sent off. I didn't rush to send it - now I wish I had, not for her, but for myself.

There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of her and how very much I loved her. Through her simple note slipped into my college mailbox - If you would like to see the Vigil for the Elevation of the Cross, we would be happy to take you - I began my journey to the Orthodox Church. I met my husband sitting next to her at coffee hour. Indeed, everything in my life, after that service, changed. The happiness and peace I have today is, in many ways, due to her love and example. Apart from my husband and children, I consider her the greatest gift God has given me.

How I miss her - how I wish I could still write her a letter, even with all my Russian grammatical mistakes.

Lydia, tseluiu. Ya liubliu tibya.

Let us stand aright! Let us stand with fear!

"Let us stand aright! Let us stand with fear!" - this is what the Archangel Michael said to the other angels when Lucifer and his legions rebelled. Let us not turn away from God, but be attentive.

It is utterly incomprehensible to me - the idea that there are angels everywhere, that they worship with us at the Divine Liturgy, that they watch over and protect us, because I lack the purity of heart to see them. But they are there, always. When my son pulled down a five-drawer dresser when I was out of the room, and yet bore not one scratch, was the Archangel not there protecting him? When a friend, while driving a jeep in Iraq, was shot at, so closely, that bullets were scattered in the backseat, was this not the Archangel protecting him? There is so much holiness here on earth, yet most of the time we walk around with our eyes and ears shut - we do not see and we do not hear.

Today at Liturgy Sasha was being especially rebellious - I had to take him out three separate times. I was not able to focus on anything but just trying to get through the service without losing complete control. But I stood there and I did remember - I am now in the Kingdom and the angelic hosts surround us - Christ is in our midst. If I can just be attentive, keep myself turned toward God, then I really have nothing to fear. If I continue to be vigilant, then I will recognize Christ when he comes in His glory. I will hear Him say - Good and faithful servant, draw near.

Yes, let us be like the angels, who constantly stand in the presence of God, who do not rest, but forever keep their eyes and ears attuned to Him. Yes, let us be attentive, lest the Bridegroom comes and we are not there.

Post for Anna

I wanted to do a post for Anna, who I saw yesterday for the first time in over four months, and to tell her how lovely it was to see her.

Yes, I admit, I was very, very tired yesterday, as I always am on Sunday afternoons, and there was a point, when I was sitting there with Pavel and Sasha, that I considered not going to the birthday party. But I also knew I really wanted to see Anna again, and that Sasha would enjoy jumping on larger-than-life trampolines, so I pulled myself up, drank an espresso and managed to make myself and my children look somewhat presentable.

The drive into town was stunning - one of the most exquisite fall days I have experienced in Colorado. The sun was spread over the fields so brilliantly that it seemed I could see every dust particle and tiny insect floating in its rays. I thought of Anna, and how the day was, in a way, a gift from her, as I would have stayed inside all day had I not gone into town to see her.

When I used the word "lovely" earlier, it seemed to me somewhat old-fashioned and formal, a word I had a preference for when writing to my Grandmother, but "lovely" is the only word which seems appropriate when I was describing how it was for me to see Anna, because this is exactly the word I would use to describe Anna - lovely.

Between ushering children on and off trampolines, looking for matches to light birthday candles (it was absolutely amazing to me that not one parent in the group smoked), and nursing Pavel, we actually didn't get to talk all that much, but it was enough to just be in her company - to hear her laugh, which I love, and watch her scurry to and fro snapping pictures. She is full of life.

When I got home, my husband asked me how the party was, and I told him how much I enjoyed myself. Yes, Anna is a very nice woman. I'm glad you're friends with her - you should see her more often. You know, friendship takes work.

Yes, it does. Friendship does take work. In our very hectic lives, friendships are the things we often move to the bottom of our lists because it doesn't have a due date, when it is the very thing we need most.

Sitting in the November sun, sipping wine and jumping from one subject to another like fireflies, this is where life is. Please forgive me, Anna, for forgetting this too often.

Because there are other things that are more important

"Fear and tremling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me. And I say, "O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; yea, I would wander afar, I would lodge in the wilderness, I would haste to find me a shelter from the raging wind and tempest."
- from Psalm 55

Today I was incredibly, almost frighteningly sad. It has been a long time since I was really depressed, and I had forgotten almost what it was like. I was driving home and both my children were asleep in their car seats. It was late afternoon. The sky was a dull blue, and with each hill I drove over I was confronted with the same image - brown, forlorn grass, white and red farm houses, one or two elm trees, a few crisp brown leaves dangling from their dark branches. There was no oncoming traffic and I felt very much alone, that I did not belong in this place, this life, that I had nothing to offer to anyone anymore.

When I arrived at my house, my children woke up. Pavel needed to be fed and Sasha needed help getting out of the car. Melancholia still loomed over me, but I realized I had duties that had to be attended to, whether or not I felt like it.

While putting away the groceries, Florence called, and her sweet, Midwestern voice filled the room. I boasted proudly of my going to the Pediatrician's, the grocery store and the wine store with two children at peak hour without once losing my cool.

"I'm so proud of you," she said. Florence also hates grocery shopping, especially when it is crowded, and like me, manages to run her cart into at least one person while turning a corner. We talked for a little while about each of our days, and then she told me that she had seen on the news that three more soldiers had died in Iraq - three human souls with families - young, full of life, and now they're gone.

I have no more words, only that I do not know how these families will do it. Somehow they will have to do it, though. They will have to continue to live without the men who were the most precious to them.

How unimportant I and all my silly emotions became in that moment, when I was confronted with what real sadness is, when I realized that all these things we take for granted can be taken from us in an instant.