Restless

            John found himself standing in the sand, staring across the ocean and wondering about the horizon where the sky met the water. His life was one of daily struggle, daily battle, a consistent war within himself, fighting against the passions, and hoping for finding a resolution to this never-ending path which seemed to offer only frustration. Feeling desperate and uncertain of how to proceed forward, he dropped to his knees and resorted to prayer as a means to gain control over the corruption that seemed to fill every corner of his being.

               Fifteen minutes into prayer, he rose to his feet, brushed the sand from his knees, and returned to the parking lot to begin his drive home. “Phew, at least I have confession tomorrow night,” he breathed out to himself. “There is nothing better than a fresh start and I know that the battle will begin again as soon as I leave from the Divine Liturgy on Sunday morning.”

               Weaving through countless streets, past strip malls, movie theaters, and stores selling everything imaginable, he shuddered at the thought of being immersed in the inanity of western corruption. “Maybe I need to relocate somewhere else, where the Christian life is the standard for the culture,” he thought. “Ugh, everyone sins, everyone fails, and no one is without the internal battle against the passions. I really need to do something different.”

               “Here I am, stuck in Florida, surrounded by shamelessness, immodesty, vanity, and corruption,” he once again complained to himself. “Right now is probably a good time to find somewhere smaller and cooler to live, away from the beach life and the heat.” Pulling into his parking garage, he took the elevator to the third floor to enter his apartment, to then drop himself on his couch in silence. “Okay, let’s spend some time finding a good church that is in a cooler place with serious parishioners with a desire to follow holiness.”

               Ninety minutes later, John decided on relocating across the country and much further north. “I guess this is a good start,” he thought. “I think I’ll make some phone calls and learn about some of these other promising parishes.” After digging through his desk, he found a notebook and a pencil to document his conversations and create a definite and specific plan.

               Three days passed and he turned in his notice to quit at his place of employment. The next two weeks were spent finding new employment on the opposite side of the country, finding a new apartment in the new city into which he would be moving, and making close connections with the priest at the new church, and several other parishioners. Knowing that a move of such a great distance would only be reasonable if he sold most of his possessions, which would leave him with a substantial amount of cash to make the journey. Two days before his planned departure, he watched the last of his furniture leave his apartment with a feeling of sadness, knowing that he would never again return to this city or likely ever see his friends in this place.

               Two suitcases full of clothes, a single backpack which he carried onto the airplane and a path westward with three stops between home and his new destination. Never one to be silent for too long, he maintained a steady stream of conversation with the person sitting next to him on each airplane ride. Finally arriving at his new city, he hired an Uber, found his new apartment which was tragically empty and devoid of all furniture. He turned on the heat, unloaded his clothing into his closet and placed a phone call to the internet company.

               Feeling overly peckish after three airplane rides with nothing resembling a meal since his breakfast that morning, he locked his apartment behind him, walked to a local strip mall and was thrilled to find a sushi restaurant. He sat alone in silence wishing he had someone with whom to speak and share his thoughts, his struggles, and his passion to live a life of holiness.

               After a satisfying meal, he returned to his new apartment, counted the money in his pocket and knew that he would eventually need to purchase a car, some furniture, and a bed in order to function like a normal human being. “Four days, okay four days until the Saturday night service,” he grumbled. “I will need to do my best to struggle through the rest of this time.”

               The remainder of that evening and the next morning consisted of searching for employment, casual conversations with his neighbors, and roaming the city to understand his surroundings and how to make the best use of his time. Eventually landing a job in construction, he made a trip to the grocery store to put something in his refrigerator and shelves to avoid being hungry and uncomfortable for the next several days. Saturday evening eventually arrived after three days of work and he found his new parish which consisted of many friendly and kind people who embraced him as one of their own.

               After eighteen months of regular attendance, he began putting in the effort to learn the parish language to eventually notice that the idea of traveling to Russia became a passion that would not leave heart and mind. Two years of hard work in learning the Russian language, he knew that being surrounded by English speakers was not the best path forward to becoming connected with his fellow parishioners. After several conversations with his priest, he made the decision to quit his job, travel to Russia and settle there for a year, thoroughly immersing himself in the Russian language and culture. He eventually moved all of his possessions into a storage unit, bought a plane ticket and lived in the foreign country to find himself comfortably picking up the language and mindset of this Christian culture.

               In awe of his new surroundings, the foundation of a Christian culture seeped into his very being, making him feel as if life was now different, built on Christian thinking and morals, rather than shamelessness, immodesty, and vanity. His one year of relocation came to an end, prompting him to return to his new city and new parish to reconnect and feel very out of place in a world that was not founded on faithful Christianity. He returned, re-established himself in a new apartment with a new job and found himself disappointed and lonely after leaving behind a culture that had become his new reality.

               After three months in his former city, he could feel his heart and mind being drawn away toward foolishness and vanity, pulling him to return once again to Russia and settle himself in the world he so desperately wanted to embrace and live. He once again, moved his possessions into a storage unit, bought another plane ticket, and made the decision to move to Russia on a permanent basis. “I know that I’ll need to do a great deal of paperwork to make this my permanent reality,” he thought.

               After landing in a nearby country, he took a short train ride across the border and back to his former town of Nizhny Novgorod. With nothing more to his name than his two suitcases of clothing, his backpack, and a pocket full of cash, he returned to his previous apartment complex to find the manager and requested another room.

               “Hello Pavel,” he said as the man opened the door. “I have returned for what I believe will be on a permanent basis,” in his now relatively smooth Russian tongue. He and Pavel sat together at the kitchen table, filled out the required paperwork, to then ascend the stairs to his fully furnished apartment.

               “Phew, I feel so much better,” he said to himself. “Time to get a good night of sleep, so tomorrow I can find the US embassy and complete the paperwork to make this stay permanent.” Waking up at the sound of his alarm, he found himself ravenously hungry, he washed, he dressed, and descended the stairs to find a local market for a bit of breakfast.

               “Okay then, time for a two-mile walk,” he grumbled. The weather had turned to a pleasant spring day and he walked until he found the embassy, introduced himself, showed his passport and requested the paperwork to make his stay in Russia permanent. He completed the forms, received a temporary document permitting his stay for longer than one year. “Phew, time to look for work,” he said to himself as he left the building.

               His two mile walk home only lasted for six blocks, when he saw a sign in a local restaurant requesting a dishwasher. He pushed his way into the restaurant, inquired of the job and was offered the position. “Thank you for coming in, John” the restaurant owner said. “Please be ready to start tomorrow at six in the morning.”

               “Yes, sir, very good,” John answered.

               “I want you to understand that we are only open on Mondays through Fridays, so that you can attend Vespers, Matins, and Divine Liturgy. These are a very important part of our culture and life,” he said.

               “Excellent,” he answered. “I will see you tomorrow morning at six and on each day Monday through Friday. I am very happy to hear that the services of the Orthodox church are important to you. I completely agree as they are foundational to my life as well.”

               The two men shook hands, bade one another farewell and John began his walk home, feeling encouraged and content with how the day had passed. He covered less than one block when the owner caught his attention, handing him a warm meal in a small cardboard box.

“Thank you for coming in, John,” he said. “We are very pleased that you have embraced the religious life of our people. I wanted to give this meal so you have something warm in your belly when you arrive at home. God bless.”