Under the vault of the hall the last words of the sermon fell silent, the last musical chords and psalms faded, the last words of prayers sounded and the final "Amen!"
In the silence that fell, it seemed to Dmitry that he remained alone. But suddenly somewhere there, near the very exit, from the hall came a heavy sigh. Then someone's muttering was heard. Dmitry approached that place, and what he saw was reflected on his face with enormous surprise and joy. He saw a man who, raising his head upward, toward the sign above the exit, was praying. The stranger from time to time wiped his face, wet with tears, with his hands. From his parched lips came words. Suddenly he began to strike his chest, almost crying out through tears some phrase. Coming closer, Dmitry heard:
"Lord, I'm here! I'm here! I came! Forgive me..."
The man sat in a wheelchair...
He had no legs...
P.S. Evhen to this day cannot tell of his conversion without tears. He testifies to it in an old prayer house with wonderful verses from Holy Scripture written in two languages on the side wall: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God," and at the exit: "Go and sin no more..."
Do Not Repeat My Fate...
"It's boring there for me," the daughter answered pointedly, "I'd rather go to the disco."
"Daughter!" Martha began. But Hannusia, holding her head high, headed for the door leading to the street.
"I'm already sixteen. I got my passport recently, did you forget? So I'm already grown up and can decide for myself what to do and where to go," she added over her shoulder, unlocking the door.
"Daughter," Martha wanted to say something again. But Hannusia, as before, not listening, shut the door in front of her mother's face from the other side.
Heels clattered down the stairs...
"She's gone," the woman said sadly to herself, shaking her head, and going to the window, looked out into the courtyard.
By then her Hannusia, having run down the stairs, came out of the entrance. The girl, holding her head just as proudly, walked through the courtyard: slender, poised, with loose dark brown hair. She looked like a beautiful model walking down a runway, not like her daughter crossing a trash-covered courtyard.
"Yes, my Hannusia is beautiful," Martha sighed sadly. "But she doesn't listen to me, thinks she's already grown up. She doesn't want to go to the gathering, only been there about five times. Says it's boring there. Daughter, daughter," looking after her, Martha thought, and two crystal tears trembled on her eyelashes. "I was young and beautiful like that too and thought the same way. My mother didn't let me go either back then: 'Don't go! You'll have time to have fun yet. You're still just a child,' she said, but I didn't listen—I went..."
Martha fell to her knees and began to pray fervently for her daughter:
"Holy and Righteous God, I beg You, open her eyes to this world. I'm afraid it will take her from me, will break her. Save my child, Lord, I beseech You in the name of Christ. Save... Don't let Hannusia repeat my fate, my mistakes, I beg You..."
Martha didn't want to remember the past. But now, watching her daughter through the window, it came back insistently, gave her no peace. And as hard as the woman tried to hold back her memories, they flooded in from all sides.
"Don't repeat my fate," she whispered. "Don't repeat..."
