“If You want me to confess, send someone now…”
After evening prayers, we were given a tour of the monastery by a young monk—from Atlanta, Georgia, of all places.
He showed us the monastery’s wonder-working icons and spoke with reverence and warmth. Afterward, I asked him if I could go to confession. He said, “Not confession, since you’re not Orthodox—but you can have a spiritual conversation. Be at the church at 5 a.m.”
I planned to wake up at 4:45.
I woke up at 5:10.
I limped down to the courtyard. It was empty.
And I just stood there, wondering:
Did the devil delay me?
Or… did God not want me to go?
I turned to the icon of the Theotokos on the outer wall and prayed:
“Lord, if You want me to make a confession, send someone now.”
At that exact moment, a monk exited the church and walked over to me:
“Has Father Alexei spoken with you yet?”
I said no.
“Wait here.”
A few minutes later, Fr. Alexei came down the stairs and called me by name. I followed him to a small room behind the church. I assumed he would hear my confession, but to my suprise he was only there to translate.
The elder monk sat across from me, peaceful and quiet.
And then I began to speak. Not what I had planned.
I spoke about my psoriasis.
That’s what came out. That’s what weighed on me.
The elder listened. Then he said—through Fr. Alexei—that sometimes our afflictions are a grace, that sickness can be a reminder of something deeper.
He warned me:
“Do not become like the Pharisees—clean on the outside, but tormented within.”
And he blessed me.
Before I left, he gave me simple instruction:
“Take oil from the icon of the Virgin Mary and anoint your skin.”
