Stubborn Love: A Story of Saint Maria of Paris

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