A Story of Saint Maria of Paris
rheta thola illustrated by mike stonelake
Ancient Faith Kids
CHESTERTON, INDIANA
Stubborn Love: A Story of Saint Maria of Paris
Text copyright © 2024 Rheta Thola
Illustrations copyright © 2024 Mike Stonelake
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
An imprint of Ancient Faith Publishing 1050 Broadway, Suite 6 Chesterton, IN 46304
store.ancientfaith.com
isbn: 978-1-955890-72-4
library of congress control number: 2024944095
Translations of Mother Maria’s sayings from the French by Jane G. Meyer, and adapted for children by Rheta Thola and Jane G. Meyer.
Special thanks to Fr. Michael Plekon for his historical and editorial guidance, and to our illustrator, Mike Stonelake, whose editorial and artistic investment in this project went above and beyond what was required.
Book & cover design by Amber Schley Iragui.
Through the prayers of Mother Maria—may those who read this story and invest their own thoughts and effort into this book be blessed.
For my Godmum, Katherine, who stubbornly loves me and brought me home to Orthodoxy when I was lost. Without her prayers, I would not have found my home in the Orthodox Faith. I am eternally and immeasurably grateful. —RT
To Anya, who first introduced me to Mother Maria, and our daughters Sophia and Seraphima. –MS
Part I
Have you ever heard a story that was so amazing and so special that you knew you had to share it? You knew it could change everything. You knew it could be the most important story ever told. And not just because it had a lot of emotions and relatable characters, but because it is part of The Story.
Well, I found one. And the best thing is—this story is true.
It begins the way many stories begin: Once upon a time…
not too long ago (in 1891 to be exact), a girl was born. She was born in a country that was scared of new ideas, too poor for new inventions, and stuck with the noise of fixing broken machines. This girl, Elizaveta (Liza, pronounced Leeza, for short), was loved. Her parents’ love protected her from the bigness of her country’s problems and taught her about Christ. She began to see Christ’s presence in the world through His Church. Her story began to grow as she spent time praying with her family at the Divine Liturgy. The sound of fervent prayers, the smoke of the incense, the gentle movements of others— all these things built a home in her soul. Her story, she realized, did not have to be scary or loud like the world around her. Instead, it was peaceful, beautiful, and sacred. Liza was happy. She was happy and loved.
Liza’s father was the mayor of their town, and she knew he carried a huge responsibility. Sometimes she overheard her father talking as he tried to figure out how to solve the problems that arose. She thought about her neighbors. Was there something she could do to help? Was there a way to change things? If only she could make Christ’s love louder than all the problems they had. A new icon for their church might help everyone feel less scared and less hurt. So young Liza gave all her money to the church so a new icon could be painted.
One day, Liza looked up from the embroidery in her lap. She squeezed her finger as a dot of blood appeared where she had pricked it with the needle. Just then her father entered the room without a sound. She could tell he was upset.
“What’s happened?” she asked, still squeezing her finger.
“Something really sad,” her father said as he sat next to her. She noticed that his usual playful smile was gone. Slowly, she released her finger, concern for her father spreading through her body. “Liza, you know many people are having a hard time.”
“Yes, but you’re helping them.”
“I’m trying.” Her father sighed.
“Can’t the tsar help? You always said that he loves God and wants to do good things.”
There was an unusual pause, and Liza’s father rubbed his eyes hard. It was as if he didn’t know how to go on. He took a deep breath. “Liza, a group of people thought the same thing. They walked to the Winter Palace to ask Tsar Nicholas for help, but the soldiers on guard shot at them, and some were killed.” Her father’s voice broke and he looked the other way.
Liza had not realized until that moment that she had been holding
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her breath. She felt the sadness in her father’s voice as the ache from not breathing spread in her chest. Across the room was an icon of the Theotokos. It almost looked as if she were crying. For a long time Liza and her father were quiet. Finally, she reached over and squeezed his hand. His eyes met hers as he squeezed her hand in return.
Fourteen-year-old Liza could not forget that moment. It was as if a crack had split open in her spirit that she couldn’t fix, no matter how hard she tried. Liza would later find out that the soldiers guarding the tsar’s home were scared and had shot straight into the crowd without orders. So many innocent people were killed. As she learned the truth and saw the impact on the lives of many, the crack in her spirit grew. And then it broke. It broke wide apart.
Soon after, she experienced something that shattered her entire world. Her father died.
Liza—with her spirit and story in pieces—felt like she couldn’t go on. How could God allow such unfair pain and death? Simple: He must not be real. God was not real, but pain? The pain was definitely real. Focused on their grief, Liza and her mother moved miles away to St. Petersburg. Liza longed to forget her sadness and her pain. Her heart, now empty of God but full of hurt, searched for a new way to live. And in that search, Liza turned to something dangerous.
to many people like Liza. These people, too, were trying to create their own story without Christ. They filled their empty souls with a determination for change. They wanted change right away; they didn’t want to wait for either the tsar or God to come up with a plan. They were overwhelmed with pain and desperate for hope. Some talked about forming a new government. Many of these people embraced the idea of a revolution.
But these ideas of a revolution were dangerous. Plotting against the tsar was illegal. Anyone who wanted to change the government had to make plans in secret, or else he or she might be arrested for treason. Sixteen-year-old Liza found this exciting. In the secrecy of the revolutionary plans, she found a new anchor, and her internal
