The Path to Golgotha
My meeting with Father Shio was profoundly mystical. To reach him on the eve of Epiphany in January 2014, we walked for five hours through knee-deep snow. Night quickly fell, leaving us to ascend an unmarked, pitch-black mountain slope. Around us, the fresh tracks of wolves and bears pressed into the snow. I had never experienced such raw adrenaline and fear in my life. Our small group consisted of three women and two men. Terrified, I asked if anyone brought a weapon in case of a predator attack. They laughed, assuring me they did. I quieted my mind, trusting they were armed. Yet, as the darkness deepened, panic gripped me again, and I began to pray aloud. The prayers brought a wave of unexplainable peace.
When we finally approached the Sarki Monastery, Father Shio welcomed us with a warm, radiant smile. "You have walked the path to Golgotha just to rise to this place," he said. After standing through an all-night liturgy, we gathered for the morning feast. There is a rare, divine grace in a meal shared after a sleepless night of prayer.
Suddenly, Father Shio silenced the room, looked directly at me from across the table, and asked, "How old are you?" Embarrassed by the sudden attention, I whispered, "Thirty-nine." He looked at me intently and said, "As soon as you turn forty, your life will completely change." Two weeks later, I celebrated my 40th birthday. Exactly two weeks after that, my husband passed away, and my world spun 360 degrees. Left alone with three children, I packed our lives into suitcases and immigrated to New York City. Father Shio remains one of the closest souls to my heart, and our spiritual bond spans across oceans.
Ten years have passed since I first met Father Shio. During this decade, he has built seven churches and guided countless individuals through the darkest chapters of their lives. Five years ago, the Patriarch of Georgia, Ilia II, entrusted him with a vital mission: "Take care of the Truso Valley."
Situated directly on the tense border between Georgia and Russia, this valley holds immense strategic significance. Parts of Georgia remain occupied by Russia, turning this rugged terrain into a critical frontline for our nation’s sovereignty. Once dotted with vibrant villages, the valley now holds only ancient stone ruins. Due to heavy snowfall, it is completely cut off from civilization for six months of the year.
When Father Shio was first deployed here by helicopter in the dead of winter, there was no electricity, no running water, and no infrastructure. Today, he and a small brotherhood have revived the monastery, cultivating the land, growing potatoes, and raising cattle. Just eight kilometers away sits a frontline Russian-Georgian military border post. Father Shio frequently visits the soldiers, serving as their spiritual guide. Recently, he began constructing a new stone church in a wilderness so remote that reaching it requires crossing two rushing rivers without a bridge. Every single day, through isolation and hardship, they offer prayers for the peace and future of our country.
