A house painter shares her story about, the intercession of 
St. Nicholas
“>Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker, the help of her spiritual mentors, and how she came to faith.
Natalia with an icon of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, which she painting in the “Russian Iconography School”
I grew [during the Soviet period] up in a family where my mother believed in God, but my father was an unbeliever. We didn’t go to church. My mother secretly baptized me as a child. I wore my baptismal cross to school, but I was always punished there for it and forced to take it off. I would take off the cross, put it in my pocket, and then put it back on when I got home. In the mornings, I would forget to take it off and go to school wearing the cross again. The teachers, seeing it on my chest, would glare at me angrily and send me home to fetch my mother.
In the evenings, my mother would sometimes tell me stories about my great-grandmother who prayed fervently, and as my mother told me, was even an assistant to a bishop.
After my mother passed away I continued to wear the cross, but for some reason I was afraid to enter a church. In the early 1990s, I wasn’t thinking about God at all. I would only occasionally ask Him for something in my thoughts, and once I’d get it, I’d immediately forget. I started thinking about God after a few miraculous events happened to me.
The first miracle: I made out with no more than a few bruises
The first miracle happened when I was twenty-seven. I went to Moscow to earn money and got a job as a house painter. One day while working at a factory on scaffolding, I was about four stories off the ground when a board knocked me off the scaffolding and I fell. Only one thought flashed through my mind: “O Lord, O Lord!” As I fell, I felt an elderly man catch me and gently lay me down on a straightedge (a tool used to level plastered walls). People ran over after seeing me fall, but I was already walking toward them on my own two feet. Everyone was in shock. This accident threw my supervisor, a woman, into hysterics. I was surprisingly calm. By God’s grace, nothing was broken—just a few bruises.
The next day, I returned to work and thought I’d check on the straightedge I had fallen on, as the supervisor would surely be upset if I had bent it. I went to the room where I “landed,” but there was no straightedge. I assumed the girls I worked with must have put it away. I asked them, but they replied, “You fell on the concrete floor; there was no straightedge there.”
I didn’t dwell on it too much, but something indescribable lingered in my soul—a deep sense of wonder. Later when I visited a church I saw an icon of Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker, and I realized it was he who had caught me.
To the Relics Without Waiting in Line
When the relics of Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker were brought to the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow, I felt a strong desire to venerate them. But on television they showed enormous lines and how long people waited. I couldn’t leave work for such a long time. Still, I decided to try after work.
All the way there I spoke in my thoughts to Saint Nicholas as I walked. “I don’t know how I’ll get to you,” I said to him. “You saved me, and here I am always working. By the time I get to the end of the line, the church will be closed.”
The queue before the relics of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. Christ the Savior Cathedral, Moscow, 2017
I kept talking to him like that the whole way. Suddenly, I found myself near the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. The security guard told me, “Go ahead, enter the church.” I went in, and there was no line. Just like that, I venerated the relics without waiting. Glory to God for everything!
The miracles go on
Another miracle happened when I lost hearing in one ear. I went to one doctor after another; they examined my ear, cleaned it, but found nothing wrong. They kept saying, “You’re fine. We have no idea what it could be.”
Then, by chance, I heard a story about Fr. Afanassy (Kultinov; † April 9, 2024) from the town of Kadom in the Ryazan region. I got in my car and drove to see him. He sat me down, asked my name, anointed me with oil, and lightly tapped my ear with his staff.
I left the church, walked to my car, and realized I could hear again! Later, the doctors were amazed and couldn’t explain how it happened.
Archimandrite Afanassy (Kultinov), father-confessor of the Merciful Theotokos Convent, Kadom (Ryazan diocese)
After that event, I started going to church regularly. When I step into a church, I just bask in the sounds and the scent of holy oil and incense, and can’t seem to get enough of it.
One day, I drove to the St. Nicholas-Ugresh Monastery for a service, and on the radio, there was a program about icon painters. It sparked such a strong desire in me to try my hand at this art form that, while at the monastery, I asked Fr. Ambrose for his blessing. Honestly, I can’t explain it—perhaps it was Divine Providence—but a Telegram channel called, “Russian Iconography School,” suddenly popped up in my feed. I rarely use Telegram, but for some reason, I opened it that day and immediately saw this channel. I decided to take a look.
When I heard the voice and saw the smile of Elena Stazhuk, my heart started racing, and I firmly resolve to go learn icon painting!
But the miracles didn’t stop there. They sent me a box with materials, and I began practicing drawing on paper. To be honest, I didn’t devote much time to it, and my results weren’t very good. I was more interested in driving my car than sitting down to draw.
First icon painted by Natalia at the “Russian Iconography School”. The Kazan icon of the Mother of God.
Right before my vacation, I went to see Father Ambrose again. During confession I told him, “Nothing is working out for me. Everything feels wrong.” Father replied, “Keep working hard. God sees that you’re learning, and in time, He will start helping you.” I listened to his words and was just about to step away when he added, “Wait a moment. Just don’t stop—keep working!” I didn’t give much thought to his words at the time.
I went on vacation, but got into a car accident along the way. Another car hit mine at high speed—so hard that my car was smashed beyond repair. After the collision my car slammed into a pole and “embraced” it, and the pole almost split the car in two, stopping just short of reaching me. And yet, I came out of it with only a large bruise and some pain in my right arm—no scratches, no serious injuries. Glory to God!
My arm hurt terribly, so I wrote to my mentors at the iconography school to tell them that I would be taking a break. But then I remembered Father Ambrose’s words: “Just don’t stop—keep working! God will help you.” I made up my mind that I won’t give up no matter how difficult it gets. My arm hurt terribly; I could barely hold a pencil… but I pressed on, remembering Fr. Ambrose’s advice.
As I was painting an icon of Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker, I must admit, I felt as if someone was guiding my hand. Helping me. Glory to God! Now, I live and breathe this work. I spend every free moment learning. Things don’t always go perfectly—I make plenty of mistakes—but I’m learning!
I would love to send my icons to an exhibition in Samara, but I’ve already given them to the Church of Saint Innocent, Metropolitan of Moscow, in Lyubertsy.1 They are now in the altar there. I hope that, God willing, I’ll be able to send icons to the next exhibition.