At the end of the year, the activists from our parish and I were preparing for the patronal feast of our monastery. There was a lot of hustle and bustle, and many tasks needed to be completed at a rapid pace. At some point, I felt a sharp pain in my leg, so severe that I couldn’t even stand on it. During a break, I excused myself and went to the clinic. The doctor recommended complete bed rest for three weeks; otherwise, a cast would be necessary.

“What kind of punishment is this on the eve of the celebration? Doesn’t God see that I absolutely cannot afford to be sick right now? I’m in charge and have promised to do so many things: prepare the concert, gather the performers, deliver the opening speech.”

I decided I would rest after everything was done and continued working. My colleagues learned about my injury and offered to take over my tasks. I flatly refused. The celebration went well.

In my excitement, I scheduled several more work meetings. I was rushing to get everything done quickly. The pain in my leg persisted, but I continued to ignore the doctor's advice. I justified myself by thinking, “God sees that I’m doing this for people. I’m doing God’s work. I’ll do a bit more, and then it will all pass!” With this motto, I continued to handle all my usual daily chores: I went to the store, picked up a package, and visited a neighbor.

By the end of the day, the pain became unbearable, leaving me with no choice but to return home and lie down. I finally heeded the doctor’s advice and stopped. Silence filled the house. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, and thought, “Maybe God has different plans for me that I don’t yet understand?”

A week passed, then another, and then a third. At home. Without any heroics, so to speak. During this time, the pace of my life noticeably slowed down. I stopped rushing. My schedule now included time for prayers, which I had often skipped out of laziness before.

One morning, while reading my prayer rule, I paid attention to these words for the first time: “Deliver me from every evil deed and diabolical haste.” What is being said here? Could it be referring to the hurriedness that I exhibit? I started to study what the Holy Fathers and priests say about so-called “diabolical haste” and found an answer for myself: “Deliberateness and the absence of hurry are signs that a person sees God’s providence in everything and relies on God for everything. Constant rush, haste, and fuss, as a personality trait, indicate a void in the soul: if a person has nowhere to rush, they will look for where to hurry, creating stress for themselves and everyone around them because they fear this void. They fill it with fuss. The Holy Fathers said: there must be a golden mean in everything—neither delay nor hurry, doing everything deliberately. Only then will a person attain peace of mind.”

So perhaps this injury wasn’t a punishment from God but an opportunity for correction? Maybe it was the only way to stop me and draw my attention to what I stubbornly refused to notice—the sin of hurrying. Many of my tasks could have been calmly delegated to others, and the rest could have been evenly spread over more days, without the rush. But my pride wouldn’t agree. I wanted to be everywhere at once and do everything quickly.

Only now, in this prayerful silence, do I begin to understand how important it is in life to be able to pause so as not to lose spiritual balance.

Original article: https://radiovera.ru/durnoe-pospeshenie-svetlana-bakulina.html