PASTOR

It was the first day. Sickle cob. Spectacular Californian summer... At the entrance to the doctor's office, people were hustling as they came to recover from the sick. They let us through one at a time, and then checked on the street. It was sad in my soul, but in an important situation: glimmers of hope for life were replaced by hopeless disappointment at the prospect of a close separation. The doctors' forecasts were disappointing. Skin care for your pain. The group of emotional Mexicans regained their respect as they were heatedly discussing. A dozen of the guards tried to get through the checkpoint, but were unsuccessful. This group already has a middle-aged, thin man of short stature. He held in his hands a black book with gilded sides. “Singing, Bible,” I thought. I stood in the same comfortable chair for a few more minutes. “Pastor...” was engraved in gold letters on the book. – What is your Bible? Singing, Spanish? – I asked. - So. I am the pastor of the church... Have you come to see someone? - So, my dad is lying here in critical condition... The pastor sang and said: “These people,” pointing at a group of Mexicans, “came to a relative who is connected to devices that support wildlife... “It’s good that we Christians have the hope of living forever with God,” I said. I had a wonderful photo on my phone: a happy dad with his beloved Ukrainian embroidered shirt with a cake in his hands, on which the golden numbers read 85. We took a photo just like that - on our anniversary. I showed this photo to the unknown Mexican pastor. He smiled and took out his phone: – We have a prayer meeting this evening. Pray for your father - and we pray for him. After repeating this to the other two, I was pleased and took my phone, where on the screen it already read: “Please pray for:”, and I shouted: “Yaroslav”. They rang up to the pastor and his brothers-in-arms began to explain loudly and effortlessly. He quickly got up, said goodbye to me and decided to finish his mission, before calling out to the Lord: comfort and honor the suffering from the faith, ask for mercy from God for them. It was heavy on my soul, as before, but step by step it developed from the fact that I completely unknown decided to take part of the spiritual burden on myself and just pray deeply. Three months later, the Lord called the father from His heavenly donkey, where there was no illness, no bag of tears... Let us be those who note the pain and sorrows of others, who are ready to offer prayers to the throne of grace for people who are in need of mercy and immediate help from the Almighty.