You will nearly always find visitors at the grave of the holy Blessed Valentina of Minsk in Krysovo village cemetery, little more than forty kilometres from Minsk. But on 6 February, her day of remembrance, crowds arrive.
People flock constantly — bringing flowers to Blessed Valentina’s grave, whispering thanks for her kindness and help. Many remember her words from life: “Come to me as if I am alive; I will help all good people!”
How fortunate we are, blessed by the Lord with such a heavenly ally and comfort — someone we can reach within hours. After visiting Saint Blessed Xenia’s chapel in Saint Petersburg, one pilgrim saw Mother Xenia herself in a dream. She asked: “Why did you come to me? You have your own (Valentina of Minsk — Ed.), just like me.” Perhaps it is no accident that both saints share the same feast day.
Thousands now attest to Saint Valentina’s aid: healing gravest sickness, helping women in childbirth, aiding those seeking marriage, and unravelling life’s toughest knots. Yet the greatest wonder is how her prayers lead people’s hearts to a meeting with God. And when a person receives help, a road opens before them — to the church, to repentance, and to the sacrament of Communion.
We have gathered several heartfelt stories from parishioners and staff of our monastery about encounters with Mother Valentina — a reminder that the saint awaits everyone’s visit.
Icon of Saint Valentina of Minsk
Ludmila Korneyeva, Sister of Mercy:
They phoned from the boarding school — my daughter had grown worse. How could I help, where could I turn? It is one thing to offer advice when you hear of other people’s sorrows, but with this news, something inside me just broke apart.
A sister, I remembered, had told me about Mother Valentina — how she had visited her grave and found comfort there.
The minibus goes from the station, but then it is another couple of kilometres on foot. Still, I made up my mind and set off.
It was getting dark as I reached the road. The driver pointed out where the cemetery lay. I broke into a run, almost as if someone was guiding me by the hand. In my heart, I heard a voice: “Do not worry. Look, there is the horse, tied up. And see that apple tree — take an apple with you. Go on a bit further and you will find two birch trees with bags tied to them.” I looked up — and there they were, old milk bags fluttering on the birches.
Ahead, I saw the graves. People had gathered at one, and a priest seemed to be serving a memorial service. Shaking, I went closer, scared I would be left alone in the graveyard once night fell.
Around ten people stood there in prayer, and I joined them — crying, praying with all my heart. The woman next to me whispered that today was Saint Valentina’s day. At the end, I leant over the grave to take some earth as everyone else did, and left my apple — having nothing else to offer. I had left home in such a rush, I had not even noticed how I had got there. My heart had leapt at the thought that my daughter might die. I poured everything out to Mother Valentina, told her all that weighed on my soul.
Now, all these years later, my daughter is home, I work in the monastery, and those other troubles I brought to Mother Valentina’s grave are finding their answers too. That day comes back to me. The Lord sets a path before us — but the choice is ours to make. In times of trial, Lord, help us to trust you, to give thanks for the light of Christ’s love that fills the heart, and to stand firm.
Entrance to the saint’s sanctuary
Brother N.:
I cannot say for sure who first told me about Mother Valentina, but one spring I set off there with friends. We wanted to visit several places at once — where she was born and grew up, where she ministered, and, finally, her grave.
Our first stop was the church of Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker in Stankovo. She may have been baptised there; she used to come for services and sang with the choir. We had not called ahead, but they welcomed us and showed us around. In one corner, a little display keeps her things: dried flowers, the belts she had woven.
Next, we hoped to find her little house in the village nearby. The lane took us past summer cottages, and by one of them, we got chatting to a man who had known Mother Valentina in person. At that time he was in fourth grade but remembered how they used to pop over for sweets; many people came to see her from different countries.
And then, at the grave, we had another unexpected meeting — the volunteers tending Mother Valentina’s resting place invited us for tea. Over tea, and a generous meal, we felt their kindness, and in gratitude we decided we simply had to come back and lend a hand with the work.
Since that first encounter, I sometimes return to help out at Mother Valentina’s grave. Even in these small efforts, I have seen how Blessed Valentina of Minsk steps in to help me along the way.
What strikes me, too, is how the decorations at her resting place are made by ordinary people — most of them trying their hand for the very first time — yet they always manage to turn out so lovely.
Icons of the saints
Vladimir:
I had known of Mother Valentina for a long time. Occasionally, my wife and I would visit her grave and ask for help. Her humility, her hard and selfless life, and her kindness to others brought her close to our hearts.
The first real miracle came after we prayed for our eldest child. His speech was slow to develop, and naturally we worried. Mother soon answered our prayers. From that moment, I began to visit her grave regularly.
Later, when my wife carried our third child, at twenty-six weeks she was admitted to hospital to prevent an early birth. At such a late stage, the doctors advised us to terminate. Of course, we refused. She was transferred to the “Mother and Child” centre, where the doctors explained that nothing could be done; without intervention, she would face serious issues in the future. Since it was Friday, we were given the weekend to think it over.
On Saturday, I went to Mother Valentina’s grave to ask for her prayers. I also asked the brothers working there to pray. The next day — Sunday — the brothers arrived at the hospital with the icon of the Mother of God “Akhtyrskaya,” the very one they carry in procession every Sunday to Saint Valentina’s resting place.
The following day, after new examinations and another medical council, they found no threat at all. Our baby was born, right on schedule — a healthy, strong boy. Had we given in to fear or wavered at the time, we would not have had our fourth son. Thanks to Mother Valentina’s prayers, not just one, but two children were given to us.
Sergey:
My wife and I are both parishioners at Saint Elisabeth Convent. We first met in the convent’s youth group. Nearly fourteen years have passed since. When we ran into difficulties with our first child, our spiritual father, Father Andrei Malakhovsky, blessed us to visit Mother Valentina’s grave and read the akathist to her there.
On our first visit, we were struck by how beautiful the place is. All that beauty is the work of volunteers — young people who give their time and decorate the grave before each feast.
But it was not all plain sailing. Our visits to Mother were always linked with some trials: either we were preparing to go to her grave or after visiting — some unpleasant events would occur.
It was a struggle. I suppose I was not quite prepared — I did not really grasp the deeper, spiritual side of it all. Yet, for forty days, in spite of all difficulties and temptations, we kept visiting Mother Valentina’s grave. During that time we became friends with the workers there, and did our best to help whenever we could. The friendship has lasted to this day. Now we are like one big family. What matters most is the warmth between us, the prayers we offer up for each other. Mother Valentina brought us all together.
There is a saying: you do not go to an empty well for water. Ten years have passed since I first met Mother Valentina. In that time, I have seen how spiritual help comes to everyone who makes the pilgrimage — who toils for her sake and, really, for the Lord. Take myself, for example. I used to be plagued by sinusitis; it made daily life miserable. Every couple of weeks meant another puncture, another course of antibiotics. A creeping despair started to get its claws into me. One day, though, Georgy Georgievich — our main icon painter and the one who heads all the volunteers — said, “Do not fret. Mother will see to it. The main thing is to keep going, keep praying.” I can truly say now that, thanks to Mother Valentina’s prayers, the Lord sent me skilled doctors and I was healed.
Icon of Saint Valentina
You cannot be in this place, hearing stories of Mother Valentina’s kindness, without finding new strength. People come with deep gratitude, touching the cross at her grave with warmth in their eyes and hearts. Such moments are priceless.
We Orthodox are truly blessed. The Lord has found us, drawn us together, and is leading us towards salvation. In truth, we are very fortunate. I never tire of repeating Georgy Georgievich’s advice — words he said every time we met: “Go to Mother Valentina, keep coming, keep praying, never give up, and all will be well.”
The cross on Mother Valentina’s grave
Compiled by Maria Kotova
