In Shanghai, Vladika John unceasingly manifested his concern and attention and spiritually guided us children. Every year he personally administered the catechism exams at all the Russian schools and orphanages throughout the city. He required that all the children know without fail the name of their own saint, the story of their life, and on their saint's day that they receive Communion.

The school's annual patronal feast, the day of Saints Cyril and Methodius, the first teachers of the Slavs, was celebrated by having the children from all the schools participate in the Divine Liturgy on that day at the cathedral. The choir consisted of youth singers from different schools. After Liturgy, food was served in the cathedral courtyard. In the midst of the hundreds of children, Vladika himself was present.

I grew up and lived in the Saint Olga orphanage at the convent with Abbess Ariadna, and studied at the S. E. Dieterix girls' high school. Vladika felt that [at the convent] the girls should participate in serving him and putting on his vestments during the services. From the age of ten to sixteen I was fortunate to be assigned as a server for Vladika.

For a few years I also went to Saint Sophia Catholic school. The nuns there were missionaries, who tried to convert the children to Roman Catholicism, and Vladika struggled against the idea of Russian Orthodox children going there to school. He would come to the school gates at the end of the school day, meet us and bless us. He would sternly tell us that we should not be wearing those uniforms or go to that school, that we had our own, Russian schools.

Christmas was celebrated according to the old Russian tradition. After the solemn Vigil at the convent, we, a group of girls' school teachers, led by one of the nuns, walked through the sleeping city to the cathedral with a lighted Christmas Star to glorify Christ and to congratulate Vladika with the Feast. He received us in his quarters, beaming with joy. After glorifying Christ, we went up to him by turn for his blessing, and each of us received from him a small bag of sweets, which filled up large baskets piled up in his cell. As a Christmas present, we gave him woolen socks which we had knitted ourselves. (To our chagrin, we later saw these same socks worn by street beggars.)

From the windows of the third floor of the convent building where our orphanage was located, we would see Vladika walking the streets in pouring rain and bad weather, winter and summer, in the direction of his children's home, the Saint Tikhon of Zadonsk house. Along the way there was the "House of Mercy" for men, and a refuge with a church for elderly women; further down there was a prison. We knew that Vladika would visit all of those institutions. Sometimes, on his way back, he would visit us as well. At the convent his arrival was announced by a joyful ringing of all the bells. In bad weather, wet through and through, wearing sandals on bare feet, he would go into the convent church, venerate the altar and all the holy miracle-working icons, and then he would go up the back stairs to the third floor, to the children in the orphanage. After singing Eis pollá eti Déspota, we would approach Vladika for his blessing. He would ask us our saints' names, what their life stories were about, and from which Evangelist the day's appointed Gospel was read. He also wanted to know if we had enough to eat. During World War II, when times were really tough in terms of getting enough food, the orphanage would get soup from the public cafeteria. Then Vladika would taste the food himself, scooping up a spoonful straight from the pot.

In spite of his strictness towards us, we were drawn to Vladika, and, whenever we saw him walking through the city, we ran toward him to receive his blessing. With Vladika, we children had a good and happy time.

In 1962 we joyfully greeted Vladika John's arrival in San Francisco. I was married by then, and we had three children.

Vladika's concern for his flock did not cease. He struggled against mixed marriages, against the changing of Russian names to foreign names, against the celebration of Christmas with other faiths. Vladika's authority and personal concern for the upbringing of children in America convinced us parents that he would guide us and correct us. He used to say to us: "Living in a free country, we must especially take advantage of the freedom of religion, and not abandon or change our traditions." His influence was demonstrated, for example, in the children's request that Santa Claus (Grandfather Frost) bring them presents on January 7 [December 25th OS.], and not on December 25 (as per the civil calendar).

Our work with Vladika during the very difficult years in San Francisco brought our family especially close to him.

In spite of all Vladika's trials, he continued to visit the sick and handicapped Russians and to give them Communion, as he had in Shanghai. I often had to drive Vladika in my car, Vladika continued to give his attention to children, including our own. Our eight-year-old son learned to read the Horologion by staying with Vladika after Liturgy. He conversed with three-year-old little Musenka, let her kiss the Cross and gave her a prosphoron; smiling, he listened to her little chatter, while the warden, lawyers, and other community members waited for him with pressing church business…

Vladika's rapport with children was evident when Musya was in the hospital for a gland operation. In unfamiliar surroundings, she couldn't fall asleep, and was always crying. The nurses were afraid to go into the children's ward, because she started wailing even louder. In the morning, the nurse called me from the hospital and asked, "Who was that, dressed all in black and with a black beard, who came to Musya at 11:00 P.M.? We became alarmed when he went into her room, thinking she would go into hysterics and wake the other children. To our surprise," she added, "when Musya saw him, she stopped, broke into a smile, and talked with him. After he left, she peacefully fell asleep."

We were saddened by my husband's career transfer to the state of Oregon, because of having to leave Vladika. With regret, he blessed us on our way with icons of Saint Nicholas and Saint Seraphim of Sarov, which he took from the walls of his cell.

After we moved, Vladika maintained contact with us: he wrote us letters, sent the children cards on their namedays, thanked us for remembering him when he received little packages from us, always signing his letters, "With love, Archbishop John." Sometimes he stayed at our house en route from Seattle to San Francisco. He was with us in Oregon also with the miracle-working Kursk Icon.

The last time Vladika was at our house was late one evening; he was on his way to San Francisco, and was accompanied by a priest and an acolyte. They were all exhausted from the trip, and my husband tried to convince Vladika to spend the night, but Vladika never missed Divine Liturgy or Communion, and he wanted to travel through the night to San Francisco. Finally, however, he agreed to stay with us and to serve Liturgy in our house in the morning. Our whole family was to take Communion, and Vladika confessed each one of us. He told me to read the Gospel for about ten minutes every day. As part of our preparation for Holy Communion, he gave us spiritual instructions and had us read an Akathist to the Mother of God and the entire order of preparation for Holy Communion.

That was on November 12,1965. Although it was the last time we saw Vladika alive, we, his spiritual children, feel that Vladika is still with us.