Farida’s Story
I remember that time as if it were today, during the years of the Soviet Union. We lived a very simple life. All the factories were working, and my husband and I worked in different ones. I was an assembler.
We were raising our two small sons. We lived in an apartment on the sixth floor, which my husband received through his work at the factory. It was a great blessing for us. I was truly happy living there. From the window, we could see the mountains. In those days, it was not easy to have your own place. Not everyone was able to get an apartment. We were among the fortunate ones, even though it was only one room.
Our life was peaceful. We lived quietly and content.
From my childhood, I carry a special memory. My mother would wake me up early in the morning and invite me to sit at the dostarkhan. She would prepare a rich table: fried baursaks, freshly baked bread, fruits, candies, and cookies.
I would always ask her, “Why is there so much food today? Is it a holiday?”
Then my mother would sit with me and say a special prayer. That was when I realized there was a God in heaven and that it was possible to speak to Him. I did not understand much at the time because of the language barrier, but I quietly followed her and repeated her words. From that moment on, in my heart, I considered myself a believer.
On November 28, 1990, something happened that changed my life.
That night had been long. I bathed the children, fed them, and put them to bed. My husband also went to sleep; the day had been exhausting. I turned everything off and went to bed last, knowing I had to wake up early to take the children to daycare and then go to work.
That night, I had a dream.
I opened the kitchen window and saw a white cloud in the sky, slowly descending over the city. Someone was standing on that extraordinary cloud, but I could not see who it was. Suddenly, I found myself on a wide avenue filled with people from many nations—people from Asia and Europe, with different faces and skin colors. All of them were bowing down and worshiping the One I had seen on the cloud. I was the only one standing, not understanding who they were worshiping.
Then I saw Him. It was Jesus.
He came close and stood right in front of me. He looked directly into my eyes. His eyes were full of love. His presence felt safe, gentle, and kind.
He said to me, “You are in need of salvation. If you want to be saved and come to God, you cannot do it without Me.” I was shocked, and He continued,
“I am your Savior. I am the Bread, the Light, the Life, and the Truth.”
I did not fully understand what He meant. But then He pointed to the people and said, “Do you see these people? They are happy because they have been saved. They believed and accepted Me. That is why they worship with joy—they have found the true meaning of life.”
At that moment, I understood something essential: I needed to believe in Jesus.
Then we found ourselves in the kitchen of the home where I grew up. We were sitting at the table, just the two of us. I stood up nervously, wanting to offer Him something, but there was no food in the house. I felt ashamed. I tried to offer to wash and iron the scarf around His neck, but He said He had not come for that and that He did not have much time.
So I began to speak. I told Him that many people followed Him, but that we had our own beliefs and traditions. I asked Him a question, trying to test who He really was. He remained silent.
At that moment, I woke up. My whole body was trembling. My hands would not stop shaking. I kept touching my eyes, trying to understand what had just happened.
“I saw Jesus,” I thought. “He was real.” I woke my husband and told him everything. He replied calmly, “It was just a dream.”
The morning was rushed. We overslept, took the children to daycare, and hurried to work. I told my coworker, and later my mother. Everyone said the same thing: “It was only a dream.” But deep in my heart, I knew it was more than that.
Months passed, and I could not forget that encounter. I felt a deep spiritual hunger. I searched everywhere for answers, but my heart found no peace.
One day, I felt compelled to go to a place of prayer in the city. As I was about to enter, a voice inside me said, “Do not come in here.” I turned around and walked away. I understood that God was guiding me, but in His own way.
Later, some friends invited me to visit a small gathering of believers. I went out of curiosity. As soon as I sat down, I felt something deep within me: the answer I had been searching for was there. Tears filled my eyes. I felt the closeness of the same Jesus I had seen in my dream. I felt repentance, but also peace and comfort.
That place became my spiritual home. In time, I made the decision to fully give my life to God. My husband opposed me, mocked me, and criticized me. Still, I remained silent and faithful.
One day, he began to come with me. Little by little, his heart changed. Years later, he also decided to give his life to God. I remember that day clearly—when he came out of the water, a rainbow appeared in the sky. It felt like a holy sign.
Our family was transformed. We read the Scriptures together. We discovered promises of a life without pain, tears, or sorrow. We cried together as we realized what awaited us.
Not everything was easy. There was rejection, ridicule, and persecution. One night, overwhelmed by pain, I told God I wanted to give up. I prayed alone, with tears. Early the next morning, my oldest son came into the room and said firmly, “Do not be afraid. Jesus is with you. He will protect you. Just believe until the end.”
I was stunned. When I asked him to repeat it, he could not. But it was enough.
From that day on, I decided to obey God until the very end. Nothing and no one stopped me again. Today, I continue walking in faith, teaching my children, and holding on to the certainty that He is faithful.