On that day, about seventeen years ago, she and her friends decided to celebrate coming of age. They had recently received their passports—so they were already adults. Her mother had warned her then too. But she didn't listen. She thought she could already answer for her own actions. Brushing aside her mother's warnings, Martha, filled with rosy dreams like a butterfly to flame, didn't hesitate—she flew to meet her friends. Back then everything was wonderful, simply marvelous, simply great.
They sat in a bar for a while. Drank a little. Had fun. Later, they flew noisily to a disco.
There it was even merrier, even more wonderful: music thundered, couples whirled in dance. Youth reveled. No parents, no teachers—freedom. And there she met him—the first... and the last.
She liked him immediately. Perhaps Valentine wasn't more handsome than others, but he could speak so beautifully. He told her then:
"I've waited for you my whole life..."
No one had ever said such words to her before. She was simply captivated by him. He was like a beautiful prince from a fairy tale who had rescued her from such a gray, dull life. And in conversation with him, she finally felt like an adult.
All evening he was only with her. Others seemed not to exist for him. This was exactly the attention she'd dreamed of. Martha doesn't remember how she ended up in his apartment. Perhaps wine was the reason then, or maybe this sudden love.
She would never have done this before. Everyone considered her a sensible and modest girl. But now Martha saw only his eyes and followed them where they led her. She melted with happiness, with love she had never known before...
It was already getting light when he walked her home.
Falling into bed, hugging her pillow, she fell asleep sweetly...
Around noon Martha woke and remembered yesterday's evening... and night. She, stretching just as sweetly, floated in thoughts of him—of Valentine. Even her mother's grumbling that day didn't irritate her. The girl was on cloud nine with happiness and waited impatiently for evening. The day dragged slowly, though Martha kept circling around the mirror all the time.
And then the long-awaited evening arrived...
She, as if on wings, rushed to the disco, because he—her beloved—was supposed to be there...
But he was late arriving, and she became scared—what if he didn't come...
But Valentine did come... but not alone—with another girl...
Martha was left speechless. Words stuck in her throat, which was tightening with a bitter lump...
Her pride then wouldn't allow her to approach him. And he at first avoided her gaze, then disappeared altogether with his new companion.
After that she never saw him again. Later, she heard from someone that he had moved somewhere. But she didn't search for him. Again, pride wouldn't allow it, and besides, Martha had other troubles now—she was carrying his child...
What happened after her mother found out, she still cannot remember without shuddering. But feminine tears and a mother's heart helped her through.
Martha gave birth...
How much human gossip and contempt she had to endure—only God knows. But she endured it all and raised her daughter...
It was hard for her, incredibly hard. Everyone ignored her. She was left only with her mother and tiny daughter. But when her mother was gone, Martha understood that now she was truly alone. There was no help to expect from anywhere. Her mother had no relatives—she was from an orphanage. Conversations about the father at home were forbidden.
Then Martha began to search for God. But He somehow never came her way.
It seemed to her that it was a futile matter. She bumped into curious and indifferent people everywhere, kind and evil ones. They lived their own problems and seemed to want to help her, but somehow it felt more like beggarly charity for which she had to kiss their hands, and she didn't know how.
Then it seemed to her that it was a fairy tale, a fiction, God didn't exist and doesn't exist. She didn't see Him in the luxurious temples where she tried to find Him, didn't see Him in the priests she spoke with. Everywhere Martha saw only people and heard their conversations, and the woman no longer believed in people...
Years passed...
Hannusia was growing up meanwhile...
One day Martha overheard a phrase: "God stands at the threshold of your home, you only need to open the door and let Him into your heart—that's what the Bible says."
And for some reason she believed...
She began to seek the Lord in Holy Scripture and in her heart—and found Him, and let Him in...
On long nights, lying in bed or standing over her sleeping, now almost grown daughter, the woman spoke with God—and He began to reveal Himself to her. She understood that God truly exists and that He is alive. Later she began to seek His Church.
And she found it...
Martha with all her weary soul rushed toward the people who filled it. But here too people turned out to be people again, somewhat different, but still people...
This disappointment was perhaps the most painful, possibly greater than that first one in youth.
She wanted to go to the ends of the earth so as not to see or hear anyone. But God revealed another Truth to her in His Word. She understood that she didn't come to the gathering every Sunday for them, people, but for herself and for Him—her Lord. She understood that she should not look at them, but at Him. And He—He is not human. He will not fail, will not deceive, will not judge, and will not abandon her.
She became convinced of this through her bitter experience. In Him she was confident...
This was what she wished for her child too, that she would believe not in her, but in Him. But Hannusia was bored...
The clock's chime pulled Martha from her thoughts. It struck after midnight. Hannusia was not home yet.
The woman looked out the window. Only in isolated houses here and there lights gleamed. Night had crept into their courtyard too...
Martha began to pray again. Time passed...
"Don't repeat my fate," Martha whispered, looking at the door.
Hannusia was not there...
The woman listened to every rustle in the courtyard, to every footstep on the stairs, to every voice from the street.
Hannusia was not there...
The waiting became unbearable...
Or had something happened to her?
Martha was afraid even to think what might have happened. The woman finally couldn't take it anymore and, hastily getting dressed, rushed to the door to search for her daughter. With trembling hands she unlocked the lock and was about to open the door to the street when she heard footsteps from the other side and they stopped opposite.
Someone turned the door handle. The door opened. On the threshold stood her Hannusia. She was pale and somehow quiet. Martha's heart jumped in fear and seemed to sink to her heels.
"What happened?" Martha asked, stammering.
"Nothing," Hannusia answered surprised. "I just felt somehow 'out of place' and left."
Martha raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Forgive me, Mama, that I sometimes don't listen to you," her daughter said, "it won't happen again. You didn't tell me everything about yourself. But I found out from others about your fate and I will try not to repeat your mistakes. So, although I've only been to the prayer house a few times, I think I understand what life is with God and without Him."
Seeing tears appear in her mother's eyes, Hannusia, to cheer her up, added:
"Don't worry about me. Everything is fine with me. And now, forgive me—I'm going to sleep, my eyes are closing. But wake me up early tomorrow morning. I'll go with you to the service."
Martha, stunned by her words, found no response. She shuffled in place a bit longer and headed to her room, but eternal feminine curiosity turned her around halfway.
She followed Hannusia to see if she was already getting ready for bed. Gently opening the door to her daughter's room, the woman looked inside. She was about to ask something else when words froze on her tongue again...
Hannusia, with her hands clasped, was praying...
