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MY SISTER
So I lived in my home. Suddenly I received a letter from my sister who was at the Kamenskii factory. She wrote that there was famine in their region. Her husband went for bread and died en route. Her children were swelling from hunger. What to do? How could I help my sister in such a calamity? You could not feed four people, a mother with three children by sending parcels. We had to bring her to her homeland, but where to put them?
I had to consult with family. First I spoke to my own brother. “Brother, what are we going to do? How can we help our sister and save her and her children from starvation?”
“I don’t know,” answered my brother. “I have my own family of four.”
I then asked my sister’s father-in-law. He answered in the same way: “I barely have enough for myself.” Nevertheless, I decided to bring my sister, but where to get the money for the trip? We had one rich person in our village and I went to him. I explained my sister’s difficult situation.
“How much money do you need for all of this?”
I told him.
“No, you won’t get by with that,” and gave me double the amount, wishing me success.
I told mother I had obtained the money and would now be going for my sister. Through her tears, mother said: “I am happy for you in all this, but I’m afraid that it will be hard for you with your sister. You don’t know her character yet.” But I went.
My sister’s situation was truly difficult. The two youngest children had already died from hunger, and the other three, though they could walk, swayed from weakness. Seeing me, they roused themselves. Their pale little faces shone with happiness, and they all hung on my neck. Nudging me with their sharp elbows and knees, they climbed up on my lap hugging me and kissing me. When I told my sister why I had come, they all yelled: “Dear mother, we will all go with uncle!”
Having questioned me as to how everyone was living and what they were saying about her arrival, she told me she was not going. “I’d rather die here from hunger than live satiated under hateful looks.” The children began crying.
“Why are you bawling? Here we have a roof over our heads but where will we live there? Uncle himself lives in a room of five people, my father-in-law refused us totally, and everyone in their village says his house is crowded. Who needs us?”
I expected that in saying this my sister would cry bitterly but during this period she had lived through so much that her suffering had dried up her tears
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and she merely looked at a single spot with sad eyes. The children kept repeating the same thing:
“We are going with uncle.”
“Well, go alone, I am staying here.”
The kids agreed to this as well.
“We will plant potatoes with uncle over there; we’ll cook them and bake them in the ashes, and we’ll send you letters that we are comfortable, that we eat our fill of baked potatoes.”
My sister smiled.
“You’ll eat potatoes, all right, but where will you sleep? You have no roof or clothes.” Little Kuz’ka cried out delightedly: “I will take an axe, chop some wood, and bring it in. Then we’ll make a big bonfire with my uncle and we’ll sleep by it.” Little Masha: “And I’m going to make fritters from the potatoes and eat them with uncle.”
“And you’re going to live next to the fire?” asked their mother. “Wherever uncle is, that’s where I’ll be,” answered Mania [Masha].
The oldest girl, Ira [diminutive of Irina], said, “And I, uncle, will cook for all. I will do the laundry, knit socks, and darn and patch everything. I’ll do spinning with grandma and we’ll weave sackcloth.”
“What about school?” asked the mother.
“Three grades is enough for me. When I grow up, if I have to, I’ll take courses.”
“Where are you going to live?” her mother asked again.
“With uncle, and grandma will live with us too,” answered Ira.
In the morning, my sister said: “You came here to get us, but did you think where we will live?”
“Wherever I live, there all of you will be. That is how I thought of it, and still do, and I came for you with this in mind.”
“All right. We’ll see what will come of your thinking and how we’ll all live in poverty.”
We left on the following morning. We experienced many difficulties during the trip but my sister did not reproach me with a single word. Probably it is difficult for some people to move from dead center but then, with each step, involuntarily, they begin to get accustomed to the new. The children also, seeing my calmness, seemingly decided internally that this was the way it should be, and peacefully gave themselves up to their impressions. They were happy and absorbed themselves in everything, knowing that their loved ones, whom they fully trusted, were with them.
Similar to these children sometimes are adults who believe in their God— love, who vigilantly looks after each one of them through their conscience. Then, loving this God in themselves and in all living things, people are assuaged,
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knowing that God is constantly with them, preserving them with his love and blessing them.
And so we came home. Mother greeted all with her inherent motherly concern about each person and did everything possible to make things well. My older brother and his wife were, likely, not very pleased, but seeing misfortune they contained themselves and, therefore, everything was quiet and peaceful.
Things became very crowded in our house, more precisely in our room, just like in a railroad car. But extreme need did not violate the feelings of prudence and compassion and life went on its way. I occupied myself with the usual work and also with crafting wood, metal, and clay. The local youth treated me well, respectfully. I was known not only in our whole village but in the surrounding ones as well. The older peasants did not have any particular striving to understand the meaning of life. After a long and agonizing military experience and separation they had things to do and their household concerns engaged them totally.
But the young were not fully subject to life’s inertia. Their inquisitiveness led in many directions and some of them were even interested in religious questions. They started coming to see me, to talk and even asked for booklets to read. I gave whatever I had read, principally Leo Tolstoy. The clear and simple language of Leo Tolstoy was accessible to all. His words addressed life’s questions and they responded with concern and sympathy.
Yes, Tolstoy is a universal miracle. He emanates the light of a godly, virtuous life and raging human egoism is
