The Puzzle of Elijah - страница 3

“Congratulations, you have a baby girl!”

“A girl? I really wanted a boy!” responded my Dad.

“It is a girl and you are taking her home!” the nurse answered firmly.

After ten days of hospitalization, Dad brought Mom and me home. They had two weeks to register the name of a newborn child.

“What name should we give to our daughter? Maybe Oksana or Natasha?” my Mom asked my Father.

Dad left to register the name. When he came home in the evening, Mom was surprised to see that the name on the birth certificate was Olga.

“Why did you choose the name Olga?” she asked my Dad.

“It is beautiful and easy to say. It will sound beautiful when she is young and as she gets older,” Dad answered.

The name Olga means “Holy, Blessed and Successful.” I was lucky to be born to parents who loved me, cared for me, gave me values, taught me right from wrong, and provided me with a faith to guide my life. Even today, they continue to provide a point of reference, answer my questions, tell me what they think and give me honest advice. I value their opinion and their love.

When my parents had a fourth child, they were considered a large family, so the government gave Mom a two-year maternity leave. She stayed home, and Dad continued working. One day, while doing a repair at his job, Dad injured his right wrist. It was cracked, became very sore, swollen and infected, and eventually turned into cancer. The doctor told my Father, in order to live, his arm needed to be amputated.

Everyone prayed for our Father. No one thought he deserved it. He was a good Christian and a youth leader in their church. My Father’s parents believed God was powerful to heal their son and tried to talk him out of the surgery. They also worried how he would be able to support his family.

I remember one evening, when our Father sat on a bed and hugged us all, there was a big lump on his right arm. That was the last time I saw him with both arms. He agreed to amputate his right arm above the elbow, so that the infection would not spread to his whole body. His surgery was done on his 30th birthday. My Grandfather could not visit my Father for a whole month. It was too painful for him to see his now disabled son. In addition to pain, the newly acquired disability cost my Father his career.

Both of my Grandmothers had big families and could not help much. So, Great-Aunt Hanna, who never married and loved our Dad since he was a little boy, helped our Mom. She watched the children, while Mom visited Dad at a regional hospital, riding the train two hours each way, three times a week. Hanna stayed with us, cooked meals and washed our laundry. She sent us to school and gave us lots of love.

Great-Aunt Hanna       My Mother and I

Even though we were little, I remember seeing my Mom praying many times and asking God to heal our Father. We prayed with her. Our Father stayed at the hospital for a few months and then came home to complete his recovery. When people came to visit him, some of them encouraged my Mom,

“Stay strong, believe, God will heal him.”

But others didn’t see any hope for the recovery.

“Prepare for the funeral,” they whispered in Mom’s ear.

When Mom’s maternity leave ended, she could not return to her previous job because of ill husband, four small children and cattle to feed. She requested a transfer to a closer location. Mom was offered her a job at the office, but she chose to work as an operator, three shifts: morning, evening, or night. It was a walking distance from our home. She was able to come home during her lunch hour to feed us and the livestock.