Here are pictures of the Sitka Icon’s visit to our church.

I’ve been thinking about the icon again today, and about the wonderworking things we believe in in the Orthodox Church. It’s possible and so easy to take them wrong, to believe in them just because you want — everyone wants — magic pills, curative talismans of luck and fortune. But how incredible it is to see one of the vehicles through which God manifests His grace, whether you understand it or not.

That’s very vague. Sorry. I’ll just tell my little story, and maybe the point will be clear on its own. It’s a bit of a long read, but I’ll cut it as short as I can.

There was a message on my machine last night that ended up ruining my night and changing my day but maybe, by the grace of God, making my evening. The call was from my god-daughter Juliana (her church name). She’s an adult convert, so she actually has a few years on me, and though I sponsored her into the (capital ‘c’) Church, that particular (lower case ‘c’) church has since folded (long story I’ve already told) and our relationship has been through phone calls and occasional visits. On this message, she sounded exhausted, and was obviously unable to quite pull her thoughts together. But it was clear that she was thinking that she was at some kind of crisis point that she might not make it through.

I nearly dropped the phone before it was over and then — even worse — hit the delete button in my haste to hear the message again. I called her back (this was several hours after she left the message) and got a busy signal. I tried it again ten minutes later — the same. I called her cell phone and left a message. I lit incense and said a prayer, then tried the phone again and got a busy signal. That’s the way I had to leave it and go to bed (hence the ruined night). I couldn’t sleep for some hours. I thought of what might be wrong and what I could do. And I thought that if I could reach her, I should bring her the only things a layperson can — some dried blessed bread that we’ve held onto for some reason, some holy water … and I really wished I had picked up one of the cards of the Sitka Icon.

In the morning, I finally reached her. (Thank God!) She was embarrassed. She had been on medication for terrible pains she’d been having in her abdomen, and after days without much eating and nights without much sleeping, it affected her mental state and she had just come to believe she might die. In the light of morning, her mental state was better.

The pain was another story. About a year ago, she had had this pain that resulted in her going through many tests and having her gall bladder removed. She got an infection that led to more surgery, and apparently (I didn’t find this out till today) had sporadic pain a couple times as sutures worked their way out. But that had been months and months ago — and now, what? She had gotten her pain medication prescription refilled, but was expecting the pain to go away, and instead, it was becoming crippling.

She wasn’t particularly complaining on the phone, just stating the facts and inserting a lot of self-deprecating remarks about her silliness and what a bother she was. But her pain and confusion was audible through it all the same. I said I’d be over as soon as I could.

It turned out she still had some holy water, so I left that but brought the blessed bread I had. I still wanted a Sitka Icon to bring her, and in the end I did an electronic end-run. I brought up the image from the OCA Web-site that I used on yesterday’s post and printed it off my color printer. On the back, I printed one of the kontakia from Wednesday’s service:

A storm of passions and sins rages against us and we know not where to turn. It is then that the holy Mother of God gives us her peace; and gazing at the icon she has sent us, we cry with thanksgiving to God: Alleluia.

I had a chance to think about this on the way over. Why bring the icon? As I said, I kind of hung to the rear on the whole thing. Wonderworking icon? Well, … ohhhkay. Could be, right? I mean, yeah, why not? (Gracie’s Kontakion in the 9th tone — never much of a crowd-pleaser.)

But now, when there was an extreme need, I reached for it automatically. Why? Because the situation was just too damn big for me, that’s why. I should have been a priest or someone significant, someone with answers … but I knew I would have to do. I was at hand, and that was important for right then. But I needed to have something to bring her, and that was it. A better person would have an apple from paradise or a touch that could heal. But God brought our church a wonderworking icon and He gave Juliana a lame god-mother with a color printer, and if that’s what He provided, it must’ve been because that’s all we needed.

So I brought her that and my other offering from the Church. She seemed to be feeling much better, and our talk touched on all kinds of unimportant things. I could tell when she moved about that the pain was there, but it was a long time before we talked about it. By that time, I had figured out that the best thing I could do probably was just hear her. There was something behind her eyes that had the quality of real bewilderment. She was saying that she had had a good cry, that just letting it out had helped, but it went without saying that wasn’t a solution, just a response.

I was glad I could get her mind off things. I hoped that I had accidentally said something profitable. I left after some hours and made the long drive home without really being able to focus my thoughts on much of anything. Her weariness and her struggle made me feel empty.

But here’s the good part. She called me around seven and thanked me for coming over. But she also wanted to know if the blessed bread had been sweet. I could tell her that it had been, having come not from a divine liturgy but some special service. She said, “Is your holy water sweet?” We both got our holy water at the same time, and she knew the answer as well as I did. It was almost two years old, and it had an acrid taste, almost undrinkable.

She said, “The holy water tasted like honey.

“And I feel better than I have in a week. When I was pacing the floor last night, I thought I was going to die. Now I can take a deep breath without doubling over.

“Where is that icon going next?”

Well, unfortunately, we’re outta luck there. It’s already in Illinois and winds up the tour next week. (If you’re in IL, WI, MN or MI and want to see if you can see her, look at the bottom of this article for the schedule.) But I’m so very, very grateful to God for that icon. Juliana just had to keep telling me: “The holy water tasted like honey.”

God be praised.

Kontakion 5:
Your icon shines in our Cathedral like a bright star enlightening the whole land with its radiance. It guides all the Orthodox in America gone astray on the sea of life and overwhelmed by the waves of sorrow, tribulations and sickness, giving them peace and happiness as they take refuge in you and sing to God: Alleluia.