Nadya (short for Nadezhda) Monetova knew
what it means to be homeless and penniless. She knew
how it feels to be abandoned, and how hard it is to ask
for help. But she did not abandon others who needed
her, and she did not give up, because she also knew
what it means to find a helping hand for the love of
God. How badly we wish we could say that she is still
caring for the needy at the homeless center like a ray
of light in someone’s dark day, but we
can’t—her sojourn in this vale of tears is
over.
Nadya lived in the provincial town of Ryazsk, near Ryazan,
about 300 miles east of Moscow. Her childhood unfolded
amidst the constant quarrels and shouting of an alcoholic
family. Determined to break out of the chaos into a normal
existence, she married. But because she and her husband
had no other place to live, they stayed in the house of
her alcoholic mother. Nadya had given birth to a child and
was pregnant with a second when her mother suddenly sold
the house they were living in and moved to the streets.
All the family had left was a ramshackle shed, where they
began to live. Nadya’s husband soon left her to fend
for herself with their children. There was only one place
to go for help—the local Orthodox church.
“When I saw here there she was no older than twenty.
A frightened, pregnant young girl asking for help. You
could see that every minute of begging was the most
difficult labor she had ever done.” That is how Ilya
Kuskov, the director of the Synodal aid program to
homeless, “Helper and Protector”, found Nadya
for the first time in her church. The volunteers became
involved in Nadya’s fate, and that of her two
children. When they saw the deplorable conditions she
lived in, they made the decision to find her a place where
she and her family could feel like human beings. It was
not at all easy, but they found a benefactor and bought
her a home in Ryazhk, and even found her work. Once they
discovered that she could sew, Ilya offered her a job
sewing underclothing for the homeless. She always filled
the orders promptly. From that time on, a completely new
life began for Nadya and her children. Her husband even
returned, however now he was seriously ill.
“I want to help the homeless. I
know that their lives can change if they meet people
who care,” Nadya used to say. Eventually she was
able to fulfill this strong desire to care for the
homeless. Nadya was offered a job at the center,
“Kursk Station. Homeless Children” in
Moscow, handing out clothing to homeless people. Steady
work in Ryazhk is hard to come by, as it is everywhere
in the Russian provinces these days, and she had known
the people at this center for a while now. “She
took every person who came for our services into her
heart,” said volunteer Svetlana Elkina.
“She not only clothed them, but also gave them
hot tea, even handed them her own sandwiches. It was
her greatest joy to see that people felt a little
better. She even took one homeless family into her own
home, where the mother gave birth to a child.”
Getting to work required a significant sacrifice of
Nadya’s time and energy. Ryazhk is not on one of the
radial train tracks leading to Moscow, and so she had to
first travel to Ryazan, where a night in the train station
awaited her before she could catch the next connection to
Moscow. After a three to four hour ride in a train car
built in the 1950’s, seats often as comfortable as a
park bench, she would arrive in Moscow where she would
stay with her husband’s distant relatives. She
worked three-day shifts—three days in Moscow, then
back to Ryazhk.
This weekly commute was not only grueling, but dangerous.
Nadya had to spend the night in a public station, where
any sort of person could approach her. She always tried to
travel with a friend, but on her last, tragic night, her
friend was powerless to save her. Just about a month ago,
a young man from the Caucasus mountain republic of
Dagestan, who had just been released from prison, had
noticed Nadya’s regularity in the Ryazan train
station and zeroed in. He proposed that she spend the
interval with him instead, but she gave him a sharp
rejection. “Well, just wait… You’ll
remember me,” he answered ominously.
On March 19, late Monday night, that same Dagestani bandit
returned to extract blood revenge for Nadya’s slight
against his masculinity, according to the ancient custom
of those wild mountains. He leapt out of nowhere, and
screaming like an animal inflicted six stab wounds with
his knife upon the frail Nadya. It all happened so fast
that no one could prevent it, although her husband sadly
recounts Nadya’s friend’s words that no one,
including the station guards, responded to his poor
wife’s screams. The murderer quickly disappeared.
Two men who were standing on the platform saw the incident
through the window; they threw down their bags and tickets
and ran off to catch him, but were not able. Only twelve
hours later did the police capture the criminal, who
confessed to everything. He is now awaiting his fourth
prison term. “He killed me!” were
Nadya’s last words.
Now Nadya’s colleagues have nothing to remember her
by other than her touching daily reports, more like diary
entries than work records. “A homeless grandmother
came. I dressed her in clean clothes, after which you
wouldn’t even say she was homeless. Grandma was very
happy; she wished all of us happiness and goodness”,
read the entry from February 29. “A kind woman
brought a package of things. All day I distributed things
to the homeless—milk, toothpaste and toothbrushes,
and so on”—March 7.
Nadya’s daughter Tanya, short for Tatiana, is eight
and her son Kolya, short for Nicholai, is eleven. Her
children are currently staying with Nadya’s friend;
Tanya always asks when mama will come home. The son is
having a very hard time coping with his mother’s
death. Nadya was twenty-eight years old. Nadya’s
husband is still very ill and can’t work, so family
is in great financial distress.
Nadezhda is the Russian word for hope. Nadya had hope and
faith, but she also had what is greatest of all
these—charity. Of course she was not alone; how many
people are there in dire straits—men, women,
children? But here is an example of how Christians can
take each one who comes across his or her path, each one
individually, and not statistically. “Let your
cheerful countenance go before your charity,” said
St. Seraphim of Sarov. Perhaps those who have not
experienced poverty cannot fully know what it means to
receive help meted out with warmth and love, but all know
warmth and love when we meet it.
May our readers pray for the repose of servant of God
Nadezhda—give the alms of prayer for her soul and
for the health and wellbeing of her children and husband.
Pray, even though Nadezhda may already be hearing the
words of our dear Christ, I was naked, and you clothed
me….
Based on an article by Elena Verbenina
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