Л personally believe in signs and always pay attention to them, especially when making important decisions. For instance, when my son Sasha was just two months old, we wanted to drive to Crimea. It was a risky venture; many people didn’t understand our choice and tried to dissuade us, but we were confident everything would turn out fine. Naturally, like any mother in my position, I was torn with doubts: should we go or not? Ultimately, after weighing all the opinions, we decided to go for it. The night before our departure, I prayed, “Lord, send me a sign: should I travel with my child or not? I promise I’ll see it and heed it!”
The next morning, when we woke up, Sasha was covered head to toe in a rash—even his ears were affected! The decision was made—we weren’t going anywhere. I thanked God for the sign and, finally feeling relieved, stayed home. I had asked a specific question and received a clear answer.
Recently, something remarkable happened to me. This summer, while on vacation with my family, Sasha, who has worn a cross since she was ten months old, managed to lose it. Both Sasha and I always wear our crosses; it’s not just a stereotype for us, but rather a calling of the soul, providing me with a sense of meaning and inner comfort. My first reaction was to take off my own cross and put it on her. As for me, I thought, “I’ll buy another one later…” But I felt very uncomfortable; at times, it seemed I was so defenseless that I felt naked.
While I was filling out paperwork for Sasha’s kindergarten and getting a health book for myself, we were sitting outside the doctor’s office. At first, there was a woman ahead of us, but she left, and we were alone. The doctor hadn’t arrived yet. Then a man appeared, and just seeing him filled my heart with warmth and joy. He wore simple but perfectly pressed pants, a plain yet clean shirt, and walked with a calm demeanor. His gray hair and beard reminded me of the revered monks, and his eyes sparkled with love, crinkled with laughter like sunbeams. He captivated me with just his presence.
“Hi! What’s your name?” he asked Sasha with a smile.
“Sasha.”
“That’s not right,” he said. “She’s baptized, isn’t she?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“Then it’s correct to say—Alexandra. Would you like me to teach you how to write your name? It’s such a beautiful name—Alexandra.”
And he taught Sasha how to write her full name, shared stories and poems with her (they even learned one together!), and played with her like a loving grandfather or the best teacher in the world.
Then he turned to me and said, “Excuse me, this isn’t really my business, but why aren’t you wearing a cross? It’s such a protection…”
And then he turned back to play with Sasha. That very evening, I was wearing my cross again.