Comments by "Maria S" (@marias5088) on "ABC News" channel.

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  29. chicagata I do not think that atheists are all mean and evil. I grew up in an atheist country. My grandfather whom I loved dearly was an atheist, but when I think about him, it brings tears to my eyes because he was a good man. Basically, my entire family was not really Christian. I know it is time for me to say a few things here. I grew up in the Soviet Union. Was baptized Orthodox Christian which did not do much for me from the spiritual perspective. My mom had a few aunts and all of them were devoted Christians (one of them was a nun). They deeply hated communists for destroying their churches and killing so many believers. One of my mom's aunts introduced me to Christianity when I was about 10 or so and I will be forever grateful to her for that. I was not allowed to talk about God in school, but I kept on reading Christian books each time I'd visit my relatives. The rest of my life in Russia was pretty ordinary - high school, then University graduation, then work. I fell in love with the English language. It was my passion which eventually brought me here to the US. I was not much of the believer, was only calling for God in times of suffering and God was answering my prayers even though I probably did not deserve it. I have two boys and what a joy it is watching them grow and learn new things! My husband is a Christian too. I do not know why God decided I was worthy of sharing my life with such a man who has so much integrity, love both for his family and for God and I thank the Lord for it every day. Remember I said that being a Christian can be harder than being an atheist? Let me explain. My husband was born in a family of 7th Day Adventists which as you might know keep Sabbath which means they never work on Saturdays. He was born in the early sixties and his church was outlawed by the Soviet government, just like the rest of protestant churches. The problem was that everyone had to work or go to school or college on Saturdays (and have only Sundays off) back in the Soviet times. He never went to school on Saturdays despite all the pressure from his teachers and the KGB. I once asked him why he read the bible so much when he was a kid and he said that every night when he'd go to bed, he did not know if tomorrow he would still be with his parents. He and his friends had to run away (quite frequently jumping over the fences) from the Soviet police and some were caught and put to orphanages that had prison-like conditions. This is what I call courage and swimming against the current. He was lucky, he was never caught.  Then he went to the Soviet Army where he refused to do anything on Saturdays and it was a work day. He was physically abused there almost daily for his beliefs and was even hospitalized for a month while in the army. One day, the officer that was in charge of his group of soldiers, got drunk to the point that he could barely stand on his feet, put him against the wall, put a  gun to his throat and told him that either he denied God right there, or he would be immediately shot. He could have denied God and God would have forgiven him because of the circumstances he was in but he did not do that. He was ready to die. He did not say a word, did not ask for mercy, he was silent. By the grace of God, that officer put his gun down. The next day when that officer got sober, he yelled at my husband saying he could have killed him (for which he would have been in big trouble - all he cared for). You'd probably call him crazy or even worse and that is your right. I am honored to be his wife and to spend whatever years I have left in my life with him.
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