His mother showed him the way of salvation…

We are in Moscow, in the 1980s…At the stroke of midnight, knocked on the door of the Church. It was a little old lady. And he asked for a priest, go to communion with a sick.The priest was prepared, and came out immediately with her. Approaching in a poor house type shed. The old lady opens the door and sucks the priest in a room.And suddenly the priest is there alone with only the sick.Sick of shows with gestures to the door and howl.- Get out of here! Who called it? I’m an atheist. And an atheist will die.The priest lost it.- But I didn’t come on my own! With called the old. – What old lady? I don’t know any old lady!The priest, as he stands across from him, he sees above the head of the sick, a picture of the woman who called.He says, while she shows him the portrait.- To this!- What’s this, you Know, what do you say, priest? This is my mother. She’s been dead for years now!For a moment they froze and the two of them. They felt awe. The sick began to cry. And after he wept, he asked to be confessed. And then, εκοινώνησε.His mother had taken care of the sky, to show him the way of salvation.Dimitrios Ντούντκο, From the book (At the crossroads), Moscow, 1994

We are in Moscow, in the 1980s…
At twelve midnight, knocked on the door of the Church. It was a little old lady. And he asked for a priest, go to communion with a sick.
The priest was prepared, and came out immediately with her. Approaching in a poor house type shed. The old lady opens the door and sucks the priest in a room.
And suddenly the priest is there alone with only the sick.
Sick of shows with gestures to the door and howl.
– Get out of here! Who called it? I’m an atheist. And an atheist will die.
The priest lost it.
– But I didn’t come on my own! With called the old lady!
– What old lady? I don’t know any old lady!
The priest, as he stands across from him, he sees above the head of the sick, a picture of the woman who called.
He says, while she shows him the portrait.
– To this!
– What’s this, you Know, what do you say, priest? This is my mother. She’s been dead for years now!
For a moment they froze and the two of them. They felt awe. The sick began to cry. And after he wept, he asked to be confessed. And then, εκοινώνησε.
His mother had taken care of the sky, to show him the way of salvation.
Dimitrios Ντούντκο,
From the book (At the crossroads), Moscow, 1994

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