Flow Like Water

By Karen Woods

Saint John of Kronstadt taught, "Those who are trying to lead a spiritual life have to carry on a most skillful and difficult warfare, through their thoughts, every moment of their life—that is, a spiritual warfare; it is necessary that our whole soul should be every moment a clear eye, able to watch and notice the thoughts entering our heart from the evil one and repel them; the hearts of such men should be always burning with faith, humility and love; otherwise the subtlety of the Devil finds an easy access to them, followed by a diminution of faith, or entire unbelief, and then by every possible evil, which it will be difficult to wash away even by tears. Do not, therefore, allow your heart to be cold, especially during prayer, and avoid in every way cold indifference. Very often it happens that prayer is on the lips, but in the heart cunning, incredulity or unbelief, so that by the lips the man seems near to God, whilst in his heart he is far from Him. And, during our prayers, the evil one makes use of every means to chill our hearts and fill them with deceit in a most imperceptible manner to us. Pray and fortify yourself, fortify your heart.”

An Orthodox Monastery is a spiritual battleground. This is a truth that the nuns of Saint Maria Skobtsova's Monastery have always known.

The nuns' work has brought them a fresh appreciation of that: in their medical clinic caring for cardiac patients; in their hospice program, caring for the dying; in their Community Supported Agriculture program, providing food for their subscribers and for themselves and their employees; and in their training program for certified nursing assistants. But most of all, they have learned this in their prayers and in the interactions of their growing community.

Yet, it wasn't until one of the nuns was slandered by an old enemy, accused of murdering a hospice patient, that the nuns of Saint Maria's Monastery, come to an intimate awareness of the battle and how very much the battle is more within than without.

Still, St John of Kronstadt also taught, "Edifying words, the writings of the Holy Fathers, prayers, and especially the words of the Word Himself, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, are indeed living water; water runs, and the words flow like water; water refreshes and gives life to the body, and edifying words animate the soul, filling it with peace and joy, or with compunction and contrition for sin.”

This too is something that the nuns have come to know intimately. And it is a truth that brings joy to their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sleeping Beagle Books
• Release date: Mar 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370877478

Karen Woods

Karen Woods writes about the world she grew up in and her beloved Manchester – in all its light and shade – is in every book.

Book preview

Flow Like Water

a novel by

Karen S. Woods

Published by Sleeping Beagle Books

Jacksonville Illinois

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 by Karen S. Woods

All Rights Reserved.

Flow Like Water is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book may neither be reproduced or distributed any means now known or discovered in the future (beyond that copying that is permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the US Copyright Law and except that quoting of passages done for purposes of reviews of the work by reviewers for the public press), without permission of the publishers.

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Cover photo by Adamickes, used under license.

Edifying words, the writings of the Holy Fathers, prayers, and especially the words of the Word Himself, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, are indeed living water; water runs, and the words flow like water; water refreshes and gives life to the body, and edifying words animate the soul, filling it with peace and joy, or with compunction and contrition for sin.

St John of Kronstadt

Trademark acknowledgments and Thanks

Many thanks to the Mayo Clinic for their excellent website containing all sorts of helpful medical information.

Many thanks to the New York State Education Department for their helpful website about licensing requirements for various health related professions in New York State.

Thanks also the New York State Police for their website.

Biblical citations, quotations from the church fathers and other saints, and passages from the various liturgies of the Orthodox Church are rendered according to the memory of the author.

Chapter One

The recently deceased hospice patient’s, Greg’s, body had not yet been brought over to the chapel in preparation for his upcoming Panikhida and Funeral Matins. But Greg’s daughter, Joan, had joined the three nuns, along with the three potential novices—Tanya, Miriam, and Trina— in Saint Maria’s chapel for praying the Sixth and Ninth Hours.

After their mid-day prayers, three nuns of Saint Maria Skobtsova Monastery, and their aspirants, left the chapel.

Mother? Joan asked as she followed them.

Yes, Joan?

May I talk to you? Joan asked.

Just me? Mother Nina clarified.

Not particularly. My life is an open book.

Would you care to have lunch with us? Mother offered.

I’d be delighted.

Are your brother and sister still asleep? Sister Elizabeth asked as they walked.

When I left the cottage, yes, Joan said. Last night was very hard on them, sitting with Daddy as he died.

It is always hard to lose a parent, Sister Olga said.

Joan said, I spoke to Luke about a half hour ago. He was called out to deal with another death. He’ll be back sometime early afternoon to move Daddy over to the chapel for the wake tonight and the funeral tomorrow. William, one of Daddy’s nurses, is sitting with Daddy, reading the psalms for him, right now. Luke called him, before he left, to make sure that someone would be sitting watch and praying with Daddy.

That’s good, Sister Elizabeth said. We should try to keep someone with Greg, reading the psalms, until the funeral. I’m so sorry, Joan. I was too tired to think about that this morning. I failed Greg and his family, and the hospitality that the community owes, in this.

Mother said, her voice gentle, No one can think of everything. Yes, we will each take turns reading until the funeral. Sister Elizabeth, could you draw up a reader roster?

Of course, Sister Elizabeth said. I should have done it this morning.

Like Mother said, no one can do everything, Joan replied, her voice kind. There is no problem. I’m sure God understands. We will all pray until the wake, then until the funeral in the morning.

‘Wake’, though, is a western term. The service we will do for him tonight is called a ‘Panikhida’, Mother said.

What does that mean? Joan asked.

A vigil, Mother answered. The original wake in western terms was an all-night vigil kept on the patronal feast day of a church. Then it became a vigil for the departed from death until the burial. We have the same original custom of keeping prayerful watch with the dead, as the Church inherited it from Judaism. But we call it different things.

I have to look forward to acquiring a new vocabulary, it seems, Joan said with a sigh. Oh well, everyone needs a new challenge from time to time.

It never hurts, Miriam replied, with a smile.

After Mother chanted the before meal grace, they sat down and began eating.

Now, what is on your mind, Joan, Mother asked.

I’ve given my patient files over into the care of the Vet who is covering for me. I’ve sold my real estate, which closes tomorrow. My attorney is handling it. This is a cash deal.

That was a quick sale, Sister Olga remarked, in surprise.

It was a standing offer from my late husband’s father, Joan replied, her voice dry.

Why would y0ur father-in-law make such an offer? Tanya asked.

Jason and I moved back to his hometown to take over his mother’s Vet practice when she was dying. His father wanted to close the practice, then, but his mother left her practice, and a twelve hundred plus-acre horse farm it sat on, to us. His dad is a housing developer. He wanted the practice site and the rest of the farm for a residential development. That acreage was always a matter of contention between Jason and his father. And it became really ugly after Jason died.

What did you do with the horses? Miriam asked.

I sold them the day after we buried Jason, Joan said, her voice sad. I just didn’t have the heart to work with them and to run the practice. The horses were Jason’s major interest, anyway.

Did you get a good price for the real estate? Mother asked.

Yes. It was fair, more than fair. I have movers at my house and practice, today. My things will be delivered here next week, probably next Friday morning.

Good, Mother said.

We are transporting Daddy back to Illinois for burial next to Mama after the funeral here, tomorrow morning, Joan said. We will fly him back, in the corporate plane, and the funeral director will meet us at the local airport and will take charge of Daddy’s body for burial. Where we are burying him is a Catholic cemetery, next to our mother, and the rules say that only Catholic priests can officiate at burials. But Mary’s priest is bi-ritual, which means he serves a Byzantine Catholic parish as well as a Latin rite parish.

Mother nodded. I am familiar with the concept.

So, Daddy will be buried with the words of the Orthodox burial service, Joan said. That has to mean something, right?

It sounds like the best that can be done under the circumstances, Mother replied. Often, we have to settle for the best we can do, and be happy with it. We will remember him in prayer here on the third, ninth, and fortieth days, and at every anniversary of his passing.

Saint Monica told her son, ‘I don’t care where you lay my body, but remember me before the altar of the Lord,’ Joan said. I’ll be back in time for the ninth day.

St. Monica of Hippo is one of my favorite saints, Trina remarked.

Joan nodded, Mine too... Although I’ve become fond of Maria Skobtsova, of late.

Mother nodded and smiled slightly. I’ve always felt a strong kinship to our mother among the saints, Maria Skobtsova, which is why I built the chapel for her.

Daddy’s burial will be on Friday afternoon. I will leave there, early Saturday to drive here. It is about a sixteen-hour drive back here. My vet school roommate lives in Cleveland which is about half way here. I’ll spend Sunday with her, and her children, my godchildren, then make the final leg of the journey on Monday, arriving here Monday evening. Will there be housing available for me when I return?

Yes. I have set aside a one bedroom apartment in the staff apartment building for you. When you come, find me, and I’ll give you the keys, Mother said.

Thank you, Joan replied.

After lunch, I want to show you another building that might be better for your practice than the metal building over by the greenhouses. It is masonry, concrete block, and formerly used to house farm machinery. We took out the overhead doors and made the walls solid a couple of years ago, with the thought that we would move the community supported ag offices there, but they preferred to continue to run it out of the office of the ag staff house. This building is heated and air conditioned, and has plumbing. I think you’ll be happier with it than the other building, Mother offered.

I’ve seen it on my walks around campus, Joan said. It sits in a stand of trees near the southwest corner of the property. There is a drive to it and an area that could be graveled for a small parking lot.

Mother nodded. That is it.

That is so much nicer looking than the metal building, Joan said. How much more do you want for the rent?

Nothing more that we have already agreed on. If you want the use of the building for your vet practice, you can have it on the same terms, Mother said. I called our current vet, who is retiring soon, and gave him your contact information. I think you can probably arrange to take over his existing patient load.

I know I asked for the space to establish a practice here, Joan said. But why are you being so nice to me?

We try to be kind to everyone, Sister Olga said. Besides, you are seeking a deeper relationship with God. What a better place to do that than a monastery?

It will take a while to get your Veterinarian license endorsed in New York, Sister Elizabeth said. So, you should have time to get your practice building established the way you want it.

I can’t thank you enough, Joan said.

Mother shook her head. No thanks are necessary.

I talked with Father Samuel. The weekend after I come back to campus, he’ll receive me into the Church. Apparently, there are three catechumens he will receive that Saturday night after Vespers. One by Baptism and Chrismation. Two, counting me, by Chrismation. Then we’ll be communed at Divine Liturgy the next morning.

Tanya said joyfully, That is wonderful.

Welcome home! Miriam agreed with a big smile.

I’m excited about it, Joan replied.

As well you should be, Mother stated with a smile. It is a wondrous thing to begin to be Orthodox.

Were you all born into Orthodox families? Joan asked.

I wasn’t, Miriam said.

When did you convert? Joan asked.

I was seven, almost eight, years old, Miriam said.

Did you convert with your parents? Mother asked, clearly surprised. I’d been told your father was an Orthodox priest.

My adoptive father was a priest, yes. My birth parents had been Muslim. My parents died in a fire, at their business, a dry-cleaning shop, when I was seven years old and my youngest sister was eighteen months old. My mother was pregnant at the time of the fire. My middle sister, Alia, died along with our parents. She was four years old. My mother had taken Alia to the doctor to be seen about a rash and fever earlier in the day, then my mother had taken her back to the store to rest on the sofa in the office, instead of bringing her home, so that my mother could work, because they were behind schedule. I was in school, and my baby sister was always watched by an elderly neighbor when my parents worked. I had been cared for by her as well, until I started school. Alia usually was there as well.

I’m so sorry for your loss, Trina said, her voice profoundly sad. So how did you come to live with your adoptive family?

They were my mother’s younger sister and her husband who was a priest. They had no children of their own. Within a year, they legally adopted us.

They raised you as Christians, then? Joan asked. Was that much of an adjustment?

The Church he served prayed in Arabic when I was a girl. They prayed to God as Allah, which is just the Arabic word for God. My mother had always shown honor to Mary, seeking favors from her. And my father had talked to me about Jesus being worthy of honor and praise. To my seven-year old mind, Orthodoxy and Islam were compatible because of these things. Still, I was overwhelmed by the power and beauty of the Divine Liturgy from the first time I experienced it and wanted to be part of a community that worshipped like that. I asked to become a Christian and to have my sister be a Christian, too. It isn’t a decision I have ever regretted. I remember my first confession, and our baptism, chrismation, and first communion. My sister doesn’t remember being anything but Orthodox. Which is good. I grew into the Faith, as most children do.

How much do you remember of your early childhood? Mother asked, fascinated.

Miriam nodded. Quite a bit. I remember watching my father unroll his prayer rug and listening to him pray. I remember waking up before dawn during Ramadan, eating breakfast before first light, and fasting all day, not even drinking water, then having a wonderful meal after sunset. I remember my mother’s recipes for several sweets and helping her in our kitchen. I remember my father teaching me to read Arabic and his helping me to memorize the Quran.

Do you still remember the Quran? Mother asked.

Some of it, Miriam replied.

That is some story, Trina said, her voice awed.

Everyone has a story, Miriam dismissed.

So, what brought you here? Trina asked.

Sister Elizabeth is an old friend. In fact, she was my boss at one time, Miriam said. My sister is the legal secretary to one of her late husband’s cousins. I heard through her that Doctor Emilia Zogby Greer had become a nun. And something clicked in my mind. So, I emailed her and asked if it was a possibility for me to join this community.

So, it was sudden? Joan asked. Your decision.

The idea of becoming a nun was always in the back of my head, at least since I was ten or so, and met a nun. Mother was so kind, so gracious, so wise and gentle. I knew that was the kind of woman I wanted to be. But, I visited several monasteries over the years and was never invited to stay, Miriam replied. So, I gave up on the idea.

I did the same, Mother Nina said, when I was young, before my bishop refused me permission to form an active medical missionary community, and then encouraged me strongly to marry, before I met my Dryusha... And then a couple of years ago, our current bishop planted the idea back in my head of turning the campus here into a monastery when he came to bless the chapel. It took a while for those seeds to sprout. But when they did, everything came together quickly.

Miriam said, Yes, I know that feeling. Everything just fell in place for me... that is if I am asked to stay and to attempt this life, which I hope I will be.

Mother chuckled. I am about to do so, as I said I would. Tatiana, Mariam, and Ekaterina, I am asking you to give me each of your answers. Tatiana, Ekaterina, you have already been invited to the novitiate, and have accepted. Do the two of you still wish to live out your lives in asceticism in this Sisterhood?

Tanya nodded. Yes.

Trina smiled and nodded. Definitely.

"Miriam, you have had a brief opportunity to observe the functioning of this house. You have prayed with us, worked with us. We have had the chance to observe you. As Abbess, I invite you now to