From Suffering to Triumph

By Maria Ratiu

I have been privileged to read the draft of this wonderful book that was so close to my heart and I am trying my best to provide my impressions of this book and her writer in a short passage. The book begins about life of an ordinary innocent little girl in a strict and suffocative Rumania’s communist environment. However, as simply stated you can see a very spectacular Christian in Maria’s writings even from her very childhood era. It is such a strong innocence that cannot be ruined even by such iron fists of destiny as we will read. My impressions from this book are that during the innocence of her childhood: Her garden was around the shadow of knowledge; her garden was where feelings were tied to plants. Her garden was the intersection of observation, a man made social cage and her shiny mirror of selfknowledge.
She chewed raw apple of god in her innocent childish dreams.
As she grew up; like everyone else, she ascended the stairway of religion, went to the feast of worldliness, to plains of sorrows, to garden of mysticism, to illuminated terrace of science, till the cool climate of the magnanimity, till the wet night of the compassion. She met someone on other end of love and she witnessed the silence of the desire, the light of pleasure and full voice of aloneness. She had so much courage to escape the horrible ordeal of cruelty in Rumania. But alas, all her innocent dreams were shattered by so much cruelty imposed on her by those 2 husbands tormented her so much, raped her youth and mistreated her innocent children with such horrible criminal acts, molesting them and so much butchery that brings tears to anyone who reads the book. No matter how terrible events and people tried to wipe out her childhood innocence. Nevertheless, despite all these terrible hardships and thanks to her voice of God within, in the end her character has emerged so within her is so radiant that she overcame, not only her own ordeals but she emerged victorious and radiant as ever by helping others and she showed us by example that if we follow her inner Faith light it is possible for us to find the truth by reading this fantastic tale of her life. More than the book I was very impressed by this ”radiant temple of god” within such a strong but as compassionate and generous person as ever. You must read between the lines and sentences of this book to find out how great this wonderful lady is. You can feel and sense this irradiation of love and compassion not only within herself or immediate relatives like her children and church members but she also shines her pass wherever she goes and spreads this fragrant Perfume of love which is the essence of God in humanity. For example, read this book and look how she changed the course of life for a Jewish gentleman who happened to fly with her to Perth. There are occurrences in our lives which seem to be coincidental but they are not as this nameless eternity is emanating its light and beauty through amazing people like her and I it is a pleasure to be able to talk to her. This light is beyond any measure and far beyond the comprehension of our limited mind and heart. Although truth is a pathless land, nevertheless she herself is the very manifestation of such timeless beauty as a “Live Temple of God” and lucky her and those who like Maria can live and irradiate this vast nameless eternal being through their own Lord God and Saviour . I can testify that she is one of those few who have reached this immense ocean of eternity. I recommend this book to any human being who is interested and keen to learn the truth, as in every page of this book you can find a sincere declaration of love, blessing, forgiveness, spontaneous generosity and compassion in everyday life of this amazing wonderful lady. REZA MALEK 22.10.2013

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadOnTime BV
• Release date: Nov 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781742841946

Book preview

In the Beginning

When I was sixteen and a half years old, the Lord spoke to me through a prophetess and told me I would one day go to the nations and I would speak to them about what the Lord had done in my life. At the time when I was born in the village of Transylvania, Romania was under communist rule. I wondered how this prophecy could possibly come to pass, as I was a born-again Christian and we were persecuted for our faith. There was no way in the world I could obtain a passport. Then it occurred to me: If the Lord has spoken, it shall be done!

I was born on Sept 24th, 1959. Unfortunately, five weeks before that, my father had died in a railway accident. At the time, he was working in the city, Hunedoara, which was two hundred kilometres from my village. He was employed as a crane driver and he worked in the smelter. One afternoon, he apparently took a shortcut whilst riding his bicycle along the railway line to work. According to a witness, my father noticed a train ahead on the line and changed to another track. As soon as the train passed, he returned to the track he had been on. Regrettably, on this occasion, the normal procedure for reversing a train was not adhered to. The train began to reverse toward him without a safety man on the last carriage. There was no way my father could have avoided this accident. This tragedy happened on the 15th of August 1959, when my father was only twenty-seven years of age.

Prior to working on the smelter as a crane driver, my father had been required to do three years’ compulsory service in the army. He was a very good-looking man. It was later revealed that whilst in the army, he had an affair—in spite of being married with three children. Our family were Christians and belonged to the Pentecostal faith. The Lord had spoken to my father through the prophets, advising him to confess his sin—otherwise he would die. Being the arrogant young man that he was, he thought the prophets were not for real, and ignored the warning. Six times God warned him of his need to confess his sin and put his life in order, but he totally ignored this advice. He was consequently run over by the train that day, and turned into pieces, exactly as had been prophesied, which was that he would be ‘picked up in pieces in the sheet’.

Before my father died, my parents were in the process of building a new, three-bedroom house for the family. Whilst her husband was away, working in the city, my mother and the children lived in the summer kitchen (just one room near the barn). At that time, Mum was only twenty-seven years old and had three children, all less than five years old. She was pregnant with me as well. She worked very hard. She provided the thirty men, who were working on our home, with food and water and also assisted them with the building materials.

When her time was near to deliver me, she was still working hard, filling up the buckets with mud and taking the buckets to the men on the walls. On the evening of 24th September, 1959, she was rushed to hospital in Zalau, where I was born. I was the fourth child in the family. My mother was now a widow, and left to bring up the four children, by herself, in a rural community. It was unusual for a widow to take over the responsibility in providing for her family but Mum felt she had no other choice. She believed God gave her the strength needed to cope with her circumstances.

Mum was a woman of faith. Now she found herself relying more and more on the Lord. Life was not easy for anyone raising a family in the countryside. Mum had four children and had the responsibility of bringing up her family on her own. I remember once, when we didn’t have any bread, Mum gathered all of us children together and said, Let’s pray; God is able to give us bread. As she opened the Bible, a one hundred lei note fell from the pages. We thanked God for this wonderful provision. With the money, Mum was able to buy enough food for the family to last us for two weeks.

On another occasion, when we didn’t have enough to eat, Mum gathered us together with the bible, and prayed. When we finished praying, Mum took the ten-litre milk urn to the milk collection point in the village. As she was walking along, she almost stumbled onto a pile of faeces on the gravel road. Looking down in disgust, she noticed a one-hundred lei note that had been used by the culprit as toilet paper. In all probability, it appeared as though the offender had been returning to his home in a drunken state and had been oblivious to what he had done. Mum very gingerly picked the money up and took it home and washed it immediately. Then she dried the note on the stove and went to the supermarket in the village. Again, she bought supplies for two weeks. It appeared to us that God does move in mysterious ways. These are a couple of examples which showed us children clearly that the Lord was indeed well able to take care of us.

My mother certainly was also a woman of courage. It was illegal for us to pray, even in the privacy of our own homes. We were at great risk of being found out by the Securitatea. (The Securitatea was the secret police service in Romania at that time—equivalent to the FBI in America or MI5 in Britain). If we were caught, we could face a jail term of five years, as well as be fined 5,000 lei. Under the communist government, citizens were banned from gathering together in a group of more than two people. Our family were Christians and we were persecuted because of our Christian beliefs. The state (government and police) tolerated the Catholic and Orthodox churches but persecuted any Pentecostal Christian groups.

The whole village was monitoring us, but Mum was never afraid. I remember one occasion when the Christians gathered on Tuesday night, in my mother’s house, for prayer. Somebody in the group had a word from the Lord and prophesied a warning: The enemy is listening at the window. Don’t be afraid! I, the Lord, will make their ears deaf to the meeting, and you shall hear about it, and shall know that I am God and you shall, in confidence, trust in Me.

Our house was situated at the edge of the village, and Mum went into the village the next morning. Her cousin, who was Orthodox, turned toward Mum and said, Oh, you were very lucky last night, because I went to your house with a policeman and two security guards and we listened through your window. This was around 11.30pm. There was nobody there except your family—but I know there were people there because I saw them, earlier in the evening, walking toward your house. My mum smiled. When she returned home, she told us what had happened. She explained to us how the Lord had made their ears deaf, as we were all gathered there at my mum’s home till 2am, worshipping God and praying together.

Another time, we had a group of possibly twenty people gathered together in my mum’s house. We had another prophecy in which the Lord told the group to finish the meeting immediately and go out the back way, through the back gate, and then take a shortcut through the gardens into the village because the enemy were approaching from the front gate! Three minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Two security men from the village, plus my mother’s cousin, were enquiring just who was in our house. My mum told them to feel free to come inside and have a look. They went back disappointed. Again, God was one step ahead of them!

My mum suffered a lot of persecution from her cousins, and in fact from the whole village; she never looked back, but just kept on going with her faith in God.

Baptism in the Holy Spirit

I was fourteen-and-a-half years old at this time and all the youth in our church were receiving the baptism of the Holy Spirit. It looked as if I was left behind. Every Tuesday night, we went to prayer and I was praying insistently to the Lord, asking Him to fill me with the Holy Spirit. One night, this young prophetess saw a vision of me crawling on this steep mountain with this huge, fruit-picking basket on my back. The basket was full of books. The Lord was saying to me, Throw the books away. In the vision, I untied the straps and let the basket fall, with the books inside, and ran toward the top of the mountain.

When the girl gave this vision to me, I understood perfectly what my problem was. I was praying with my lips, but my mind was enthralled with the books I was reading at the time. I had been avidly reading novels, especially detective and spy stories. Knowing this word was from God, I took the decision to let go of books, and in a short time I received the baptism of the Holy Spirit and the gift of prophecy, word of knowledge, and the gift of healing. A scripture came to mind which summed up my situation: No one puts new wine into old wineskins. For the old skins would burst from the pressure, spilling the wine and ruining the skins. New wine is stored in new wineskins so that both are preserved. Mathew 9:17, New King James Version (NKJV).

My mother cared about others, and taught us to do the same. On Sundays, other people came from other villages to the Pentecostal church in my village. Occasionally, I remember Mum inviting them to our house for a meal. At this time, the majority of people were dealing with the result of the Depression during the 60’s and they were extremely poor, some even unable to feed their families.

My mum did whatever she could to support us. She made blankets, sheets and tablecloths on the weaving machine, which was a long, arduous process. She painted our house, then she went on to help her rural neighbours with their house painting, and then she went to the village to assist the village folk as well. Another job she did was working hard in the fields for others by chipping the corn and hoeing the vegetables to earn money for the family. So from a young age, we learned from Mum’s example as we worked hand-in-hand with her. We worked from early morning until the sun went down; in the summer, this could be from 7am in the morning till 9pm at night.

Whatever Mum was working at, we became involved in as well. We picked cherries to sell at the markets and for Mum to make jam. Picking the plums, pears, apples, walnuts and sour cherries, too, was all part of our job. I recall during the summer school holidays, from 15 June to 15 September, I used to go fruit picking and make so much money that enabled us to have enough to buy our school uniforms and school books, as well as pay the bills.

The early cherry season began in May before the school holidays. Our trees were due to yield their fruit toward the end of June, but we knew where a huge cherry tree was that belonged to Pradatu, and his tree yielded its fruit in early June. This tree was five metres tall and was situated on the edge of the cornfield. Grapevines were grown on stakes underneath the cherry tree. In anticipation of a feast, my sister Lidia and I eagerly climbed the hills and scurried up the tree.

I was on the top of the tree, and Lidia was on the bottom branches, enjoying the fruit. The cherries at the top of the tree were the best, as they were large, sweet and red. Only I could climb up that high. As we were feasting on these scrumptious cherries, I suddenly saw a man running toward us through the cornfield, screaming at the top of his lungs: Get off my tree!

At that moment, I plunged from the top of the tree, straight down to the ground. As I hit the ground, I became aware of a stake from the grapevine penetrating my dress and scratching my neck and my face. There was no time to nurse my pain; I just ran toward the top of the hill with Lidia at my side. I said, Let’s run towards the next village so he won’t recognise who we are. Our mother, if she found out what we had been up to, would severely punish us. Thank God she didn’t.

Three hours later, we made our way home, via the gardens and the fields full of corn and vegetables. Mum said, Where have you, girls, been? I told Mum we had been on a long walk and an accident happened—I had fallen out of a tree and scratched myself. She told me I should be more careful next time. Mum never knew what we got up to—and neither did Pradatu find out who was pinching his cherries. Life was good.

The communists had taken land from my family and allocated it to the community. They only left thirty acres for each family. On the top of the hill, which was behind our house, were about twenty apple trees which belonged to my grandmother. She also became a born-again Christian through my mother’s example. My mum sent me to pick some apples from under her trees for our two pigs. As I climbed the hill and arrived under one particular tree, I saw this owl sitting on a branch at three o’clock in the afternoon. Knowing that the owl could not fly in the daytime, I climbed the tree in an attempt to catch the owl. As I reached out to grab the owl, it flew off. I jumped off the tree in a hurry and chased the owl. It flew for about three metres and stopped. Again, when I almost reached the owl, it flew off again for another three metres.

I chased this owl for about two kilometres. By this time, the sun was going down. The owl began to fly further and further from the village, with me still chasing after it. I then realised I could not catch this owl and so quickly ran back home—without the apples for the pigs. Mum asked me, Where have you been? I was all flushed and told Mum I had come across this owl in the apple tree and had chased it for two kilometres, but it eventually got away from me. I told Mum I was sorry I didn’t pick any apples for the pigs. She said, Marioara, Marioara, Marioara, when are you going to learn you cannot catch a bird which is flying?

I remember one winter, when I was thirteen years old and I was very sick. I had a high fever and was hallucinating. My sister, Connie, was in the trade school, in Timisoara, studying sewing and sewing machines. She came home for the Christmas holidays and found me very sick in bed. Connie came to see how I was and greeted me and hugged me and brought me this absolutely gorgeous red-and-white lacquered handbag. I was so thrilled. She brought me two bananas, two oranges and lollies as well. As it was winter time, the fruit was an extremely generous gesture on her part. She had to line up in a long queue to buy the fruit, which was a luxury in Romania at this time of year.

Sweet 16

I will always cherish this memory of my sister. We have a very close bond as sisters and I love and appreciate and cherish her so much—she is an extraordinary woman.

Late June, when our cherries were ready to harvest, Mum sent me to pick them. As I sat at the top of the tree, which was four to five metres tall, I was singing this chorus as loud as I could:

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind but now I see."

I picked the cherries with this song on my lips and in my heart. The village folk appreciated my singing and asked me to sing some more songs. I was not afraid of the Securitatea, even though there was a penalty for singing Christian songs, which they regarded as propaganda.

The next day, my mum sent me to sell our cherries at the market in the city. The cherries were selling for 2.5 lei to 5 lei per kilo. Our next door neighbour, Florica, had bigger cherries than us. She was selling her cherries for 5 lei per kilo. When I noticed she wasn’t selling many cherries, I decided to sell my cherries for 2.5 lei per kilo. Soon a young Romanian soldier came near our stall and wanted to buy some cherries. He said he only had 1 leu. Florica told him she didn’t want to sell him any of her cherries as he didn’t have enough money.

Then the soldier turned to me and asked me to please sell him some cherries for one leu. I gave him one kilo of cherries and said to him, You be blessed.

The young soldier turned to me and was almost in tears as he said, Thank you very much; I will never forget your kindness. I went home two hours later, having sold all the cherries and made one hundred lei. Give and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you. Luke 6:38, (NKJV) As I had compassion for the soldier and let him have some cherries, so God blessed me and helped me sell all our cherries. Mum was very satisfied and very, very pleased. Our neighbour brought half of her cherries she hadn’t sold back with her. I heard Florica saying to Mum: Your daughter! She knows how to sell.

Cucumbers

One Saturday afternoon in the summer, I went with a school friend to cool off in the creek which made its way down from the Mountain Meses. We were enjoying the benefit of paddling in the stream as the temperature often reached thirty-five degrees. We became very hungry and exhausted and made our way to a paddock full of cucumbers which was adjacent to the stream. We decided to shove some of the cucumbers down the front of our frocks to take with us. The cucumbers were grown on land taken from the landowners by the communist government to become communal land—but in practice all the produce was taken and sold to the supermarkets. The people felt that it was their land and they had a right to the produce, so often ‘took’ what they considered rightfully theirs. The government installed guards from another village who would have no sympathies with the local villagers to prevent theft.

Suddenly, the guard for this paddock saw the two of us and started chasing us across the paddock. We ran for our lives, with the cucumbers falling out of our frocks as we raced away. I thought it better not to go home straightaway because I would be in trouble if Mum caught me stealing these cucumbers. I told Cornelia that we should go to her place so the guard wouldn’t find out who we were.

As we arrived at her home, Cornelia’s mum asked us, What happened to you girls; why are you so puffed?

I answered her, We were being chased by a man!

Suddenly the guard walked to the front gate. Cornelia and I froze! He was complaining to Cornelia’s mum, and she turned to us and said to me, You are not my daughter; what are you doing here? Next thing I know, she picked up a big long stick that she used to beat the walnut tree, and started beating both of us with the stick. When the guard saw us being beaten, he was satisfied and left. Cornelia’s mum went straight to my mum to explain what had happened. Then my mother turned around and gave me a beating as well. I learnt my lesson the hard way—not to take what does not belong to me.

The Honey Bee

My mother, Maria, was the eldest of five children and the only girl amongst four boys. She was a very hard-working woman and became a ‘Jack of many trades’. She was extraordinarily gifted with her hands and intelligent as well. She was able to rend and paint the house, fix the roof and anything else that needed fixing around the house—as well as dressmaking and weaving. She made the sheets and the pillowcases and the tablecloths. Everything that was needed in the home, she was quite capable of making.

I was too little when I first tried to learn to sew on my mum’s manual treadle machine—so my mother did not see any future for me as a sewer. Later on, at age nineteen, I learned to sew on industrial machines in a factory and this became my trade.

The villagers came to buy linen products from Mum. The bedspreads and wall hangings and floor mats were in demand. By the time winter was over, she had made twenty bedcovers, plus all these items for our family, as well as for sale at the market. Usually it took the villagers six months to finish a garment starting on the loom, but Mum completed this in three weeks. She was much admired by the villagers and praised for her integrity and her faith in God.

Whatever she began, she completed. She was multi-skilled and could do whatever she put her hand to. By Christmas, after my father died, the house was completed and we all moved into our home. This, again, was unusual for the villagers to see, as usually it took three to four years for a house to be completed, but Mum managed to finish the house in three months. She was only twenty-seven years old and a widow, with four children to look after. There was no government assistance for anyone.

Three years later, my mum went to the factory where my father had worked in Hunedoara and found out she was entitled to a pension. She went all the way to the managing director to put her case, and the director took pity on my mother and her four children and approved the pension. This had never been done before, but when the Lord gives favour to a person, they have favour throughout their life.

After my birth, the Lord spoke to Mum through a prophet and said to her, If you teach your children to walk in My ways, if you teach them My law, I promise you I will bless you and your children more than any other people from your village. Mum kept her side of the promise and raised her children in the love and fear of the Lord and God kept His promise as well. Our mum and her six children now reside in Australia, and we live five minutes from each other. This was undoubtedly God’s provision for our family.

Chickens

Life had never been easy for my mum. She was born in 1932 and was a twelve-year-old child during the Second World War. At the time, Romania was experiencing a severe depression as well, so it was not a pleasant era in which my mother grew up. In 1945, when she was just thirteen years of age, the Russian army invaded Romania and the Germans evacuated our village. The Russians said they were here to liberate us from the German occupation.

At this particular time, my mother was left in Grandma’s place, all alone. Suddenly these two Russian soldiers came in through the front gate and demanded Mum give them chickens to eat. Mum said, No chickens, come and look. The soldiers, speaking in Russian, forced her to go up into the attic and look around. Earlier, Grandma had hidden two laying fowls under an upturned bathtub. As soon as the soldiers looked in the attic, they saw the chickens and grabbed them, beheaded them, and ran off.

When the German army retreated, they let the villagers know that although the villagers were welcoming the Russians and very happy to see the Germans retreat, they would have to lock up their womenfolk and their young girls because the Russian soldiers would rape them. Regarding this matter, Mum told me of an incident where a very pregnant young woman was asked to supply Russian soldiers with