Do good. Those who come to you by chance do not mistake the door
I would like this statement to become a symbol of the meeting with Olga Dmitrievna Bessonova for all participants. Olga Dmitrievna has been heading the consulting center “School of New Relationships” at the St. Nicholas Cathedral for more than 7 years.
It’s not often that guests come to a colony, especially one with a “strict” regime. Therefore, the meeting, which took place within the walls of the school, which operates at IK-24 of the Federal Penitentiary Service of Russia in the Volgograd Region, became a significant event. The students who came to the meeting are studying at school and serving sentences for especially dangerous crimes.
They, I think, are most often tormented by the questions “Why?” or “Why me?”, or “What injustice happened to me?” And translating these questions into the direction of “Why did I end up here? What did I do wrong? Where is the truth? What is my sin?” - is very difficult.
Olga Dmitrievna’s dialogue with the students was interesting. Questions were asked. Those who did not want to voice their problems in front of everyone had the opportunity to talk one-on-one with Olga Dmitrievna or even write a letter with a guarantee of receiving an answer.
Questions were raised about the soul, spirituality, and religiosity. It was said that the mental life of a person has the same clear and immutable laws as in the visible physical world, and ignorance of them leads to pain and suffering. About the fact that “we all come from childhood,” and our current problems grow from there. And that there are no bad feelings, and often, by suppressing anger, we drive joy out of life, we are not responsible for the feelings that come to us, but are responsible for the actions committed under their influence.
The result of the meeting was a conversation about the importance, first of all, of removing the feeling of impasse from life. This may not reduce the amount of pain or the drama of the situation itself, but it will remove the meaninglessness - the most terrible experience for a person.
The conversation ended with this question being asked again: “Is this true for you personally?”, “Those who come to you by chance... don’t have the wrong door?” And the answers were different! One of them was: “Is it worth opening the door at all?!”
The students asked me to convey to you, Olga Dmitrievna, words of gratitude and, if possible, to come again. IK-24 is looking forward to seeing you!
Olga Dmitrievna Bessonova heads the consulting center “School of New Relationships” at the St. Nicholas Cathedral.
Direction of work:
-help in crisis situations (death of loved ones, divorce, illness...)
-consultation regarding issues interpersonal relationships
-help for families where relatives drink or use drugs
- permanently working group “Treatment by communication”. The goal of the group is to make your life more conscious and joyful.
Reception is conducted once every two weeks on weekends free of charge, pre-registration by phone 4-77-17 (secretary of St. Nicholas Cathedral).
E.B. Doroshenko, teacher of Russian language and literature, State Educational Institution of Higher Secondary School No. 1 of the Volgograd Region
No one is accidental and nothing is accidental.
In this world where we are lucky enough to live, every meeting and chance acquaintance serves a specific purpose.
Sometimes we need people to awaken us and help change the direction of our lives; sometimes to cheer us up and remind us who we are on this earth. And sometimes these are the ones that we meet only for a moment.
Ironically, we don't have to know the purpose of every person we meet, but we do have to remain open to whatever each new encounter brings.
Sometimes it is worth looking at the whole world as an interweaving of threads - silver or red, each of which reflects a meeting with a specific person, which may not even have happened yet.
Our whole life is interaction with each other. And although modern technologies, the Internet, social networks are trying to convince us that this interaction can be minimized, something changes in our minds when we understand that everything in life does not happen by chance.
Not all meetings need to be long; sometimes they can only last a moment. Maybe to detain you so you don't get into an accident, or to meet potential love. Sometimes the Universe sends us people to help us in our lives, even if they don't become something important to us.
And although we cannot predict it, we can prepare ourselves for these life surprises.
People who need to wake us up.
These are the ones who come for a long time. Sometimes these are our partners, kindred spirits. These are the ones who completely change our lives.
People who help remind us who we are.
Sometimes along the path of life we begin to lose ourselves. In the daily bustle and worries, we forget about who we wanted to become, what we dreamed of (and still dream of), who we really are. We simply sell ourselves to adulthood and responsibility, forgetting who we really are. And it’s not even about the place of work or the city to live in, it’s about the soul and inner worldview.
And then there are people who come into our lives to help us understand who we are, so that we can begin to be ourselves.
People who matter for a moment.
When we start a conversation with a random fellow traveler and just can’t stop. Or when we simply exchange smiles with the person passing on the next escalator. And it really seems like some kind of unearthly connection that just has to exist.
Just because someone doesn't stay in our lives for long doesn't mean there's no meaning or purpose in meeting them. Everything has a meaning. And it is these invisible threads that connect us to each other that make life in this world so incredibly unpredictable, because we never know when we will meet someone who will force us to change our lives.
Red sofa, green pillow, black cat. The reflections of the bright fire in the fireplace shimmer in his golden, slightly squinted eyes. What is he thinking about? Maybe it’s about the fact that there’s only a little time left for the fire to burn, because spring is already playing its magical symphony on the tips of its mustache. Or maybe he wonders why he was nicknamed Diesel? I try to read the story from the black pupils past life, in which we were not yet familiar. But the cat is silent...
A shrill and very demanding “Meow” broke the evening silence of the winter grounds of a country restaurant complex. Jumping in surprise, we turned around at once. Sticking its small paws in the snowdrifts, a black kitten was quickly making its way across the field towards us. Small, looks like a teenager. At times, only the tip of the tail on the surface of a snowdrift, and an increasingly loud, growing “Meow” signaled the inevitability of a future acquaintance.
“What if he’s mad?”, I caught myself thinking, instinctively squeezing my youngest son’s hand. “He wants to be friends, mom, look!!!” - Eight-year-old Timurka stared in amazement at his boots, around which, having already reached, the mustachioed man was dancing a pretzel. Purring heart-rendingly, the cat expressed affection, universal love, and the joy of meeting each other, drawing unimaginable eights at our shoes. And we froze like idols, overwhelmed by unprecedented pressure. And this picture probably looked funny. Without leaving us a single step, running from me to my husband and children, jumping and looking into our eyes, the black kitten got under our feet all the way to the threshold...
Chills ran down my spine like icy flakes. “I want to be with you. Don’t leave me…” the baby seemed to whisper to me. Burying his nose in his palm, snoring confidentially and childishly, he finally fell silent... And only his fingers felt the living thrill of his hot breath.
“It seems that the black cat is my talisman,” I suddenly thought. Even without believing in omens and supernatural signs, it was difficult to get rid of the strange feeling. What was happening was reminiscent of a mystical story. And if in the next moment the cat suddenly spoke in Pushkin’s poems, I would have decided that this is how magical messengers are supposed to behave. But why, why did he choose us? And what to do now with this tailed gift? Having carefully and as gently as possible returned all four paws to the ground, we returned to the car in complete silence. Black, of course, was not far behind.
In general, so, brother - suddenly, like a man and without unnecessary curtsies, the head of the family addressed the cat, opening the doors.
If you jump into the car now, let's go home! Keep in mind, however, that you are welcome, most likely the animals already “registered” there will not be there. And from now on you will be called Diesel...
The husband didn’t have time to finish his sentence - Diesel was busily settling into the front seat.
Red sofa, green pillow. Our mascot and everyone's favorite, a black cat with golden eyes, sleeps on the pillow. Nothing betrays him as a homeless, timid savage, yet for a long time shuddering in his sleep. Only occasionally does the small predator pull out the sharp blades of its claws. He's probably seeing dreams from a past life... But don’t be afraid, Diesel, we won’t leave you.
One evening with one family
There was a cordial, frank conversation:
What would anyone give as a token of love?
The Savior who came to earth?
The father said: "There is nothing in the world
What is He worthy of, the loving one!
I would wash His feet in tears,
Tired of the dusty paths of the world."
"And I would like a bed with the best sheet
Covered the tired Savior,
So that He may find rest and peace,”
The mother spoke with a gentle smile.
And only the little boy was silent,
Looking thoughtfully into the darkness, out the window.
“What would you, son, give to Jesus?”
The father asked, “Tell us honestly, baby.”
The boy answered quietly: “I have
There is a toy for the heart dear
From plush, I will give a horse to Christ."
And the whole family laughed.
We laughed for a long time... Suddenly there was a knock.
The door opened. Everyone fell silent at once.
Fear flashed in the eyes of the father of the family:
A sad homeless man came in wearing dirty clothes.
Legs in the supports, sticking out of the holes
Unwashed feet. Unshaven, ugly.
Humiliation in posture and eyes...
What do you need? - asked the father disgustedly.
Can't I spend the night in your barn?
Sleep? - asked the homeless man humiliatedly.
No no! - said the mother. - Go away!
We don't allow strangers in at night.
Wait, uncle! - the boy shouted,
Stealthily brushing away a tear with your palm,
I promised to give God a horse...
Take, uncle, at least my horse!..
The gate quietly creaked again,
The family remained sitting in a tight circle.
But neither father nor mother dared to look
Raise the boy; not at each other...
We often do not spare words in life,
Beautiful words, pompous, insignificant.
In reality, only Love is known
And Kindness - words without deeds are false!
The theme is about God's judgment.
If you read the gospel passages for today, you will see that the theme of judgment runs through them as a red thread; and it poses the question to us: what are we like?.. What do we seem to be, what are we not really? What is our false righteousness, what is our false existence in the face of the real?
In Greek, judgment is called “crisis”: we are now – and throughout history – in a state of crisis, that is, the judgment of history, that is, ultimately, the judgment of God’s ways on us.
Each era is a time of collapse and renewal; and now everything that seems will perish, everything false will perish. Only the integral will stand, only the true will stand, only what actually exists will stand, and not what supposedly exists.
Each of us seems to be something: both in a good and in a bad sense; and everything that seems to be sooner or later will be washed away and torn apart: by God's judgment, by human judgment, by future death, by life. And we must, if we want to enter into these days of passionate experiences, first of all think: what are we really? - and only by truly standing before the judgment of our conscience and God, can we enter the days that follow: otherwise we are condemned...
Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh
