"Write," he said. "Glorify Xenia.

Here is a story about how St. Xenia of St. Petersburg saves everyone who turns to her, how she does not leave anyone without help.

It doesn't matter where you live – in St. Petersburg or Moscow, in Vladivostok, Chita or Kaliningrad, in Australia, the USA or Israel. It doesn't matter what exactly happened to you, what disease knocked you down, what attack came. It doesn't matter who you are, what you do.

St. Xenia will help you.

It only matters to her that your misfortune is real, your faith is honest, and your intentions are pure.

* * *

Can the trouble be fake? Can.

And then Ksenia is not your assistant. There is no point in turning to her with invented problems and bad plans. It won't work. Examples? You are welcome.

In the candle shop of the church, where my friend has been working for many years, they do not just sell candles and icons, they answer questions, give advice, "resolve" situations, and console those who are crying. Here is another sobbing woman:

–What's the matter with you? How can we help you?

"I'm going to have an abortion tomorrow." I'm afraid. I'm very scared. Which icon should I put a candle to so that everything goes well?

"But you're going to kill a living child, how come?" Is it possible to ask the saints for help in killing?

"Girl, you're not talking nonsense. We don't need another freeloader. Don't teach me how to live, dear. Tell me better where to put the candle.

"Go to St. Xenia, there is her icon, do you see?"

The lady with a resolute step with a candle at the ready moved towards the indicated icon. I lit a candle. She whispered. Thought. She crossed herself. I thought about it again. Cried. She crossed herself again. And she left.

And a month later it appeared again:

"Girl, thank you. We left the baby. I didn't have the courage to have an abortion. It's okay, we'll feed you.

Another recent story. A young handsome husband met a young beautiful person, very greedy for the stronger sex. While the wife was pantyhose around the baby, trying to have time to do the housework - cook dinner, wipe the floor, walk the dog, clean up after the cat - the girl did not waste time. A standard situation, isn't it? But the method of seduction was refined and non-standard: not watching erotic films, but talking "about the high", "about the spiritual", cultural trips with someone else's husband not to taverns and parks of the northern capital, but to churches. The beauty took him to the Smolensk cemetery, and more than once or twice, and told him about Xenia, and hung the icon of Ksenyin on his chest with lily hands. Only the chanson did not last long. One fine day, my husband burst into the house, tore the icon from his chest, threw it into the toilet bowl in a big way and flushed the water: – he yelled, – ...!

He did not speak so tenderly about the saint, but about the girl. Although my wife did not understand "about high things", she did not really chirp "about spiritual things", but she immediately ran her hand into the toilet bowl up to her shoulder. I didn't even have time to think about how long it had been washed and whether it would be disgusting to crawl on the bottom with my fingers. And she did find a metal image. Fortunately, it was not aluminum, but a heavy one, probably copper, fell to the bottom, it was not washed away by water.