How to Unload a Lorry of Bricks Without Growing Weary

A story about the strength of prayer

This happened many years ago, when I was serving my obedience as a prosphora baker. It’s a story I think fits well with Great Lent—even though it took place in the height of summer.

That day, I came to the bakery, set the dough, and found I had two hours to spare. Outside, the June air was warm, and the church flowerbeds were alive with fragrance. Giant butterflies flitted by, and dragonflies hovered over the garden. It was peaceful, almost festive.

But such a scene, one might say, was missing something—a touch of the unexpected. That touch came when a lorry arrived, loaded with bricks.
The bricks were early—they were meant for a fence by the Sunday school. It wasn’t my task to unload them, and honestly, I wasn’t eager to do it. But, at that hour, there was no one else around. So, I gave up my brief break, rolled up my sleeves, and got to work.

The distance wasn’t far, but the path was awkward—a narrow gap in the fence made every trip inconvenient. At first, I carried five bricks at a time. Then, after dropping one on my foot, I reduced the number to four. I still had work waiting in the bakery, and the thought of it made me sigh.

Then, by God’s mercy, a simple thought came to me: Why not pray while I work?

For some reason, the first prayer that came to mind was the prayer of St. Ephraim the Syrian—the one we say so often in church during Great Lent. It turned out that one round trip with the bricks fit perfectly with the rhythm of a single recitation.

I would approach the pile, pick up the bricks, and begin:
“Lord and Master of my life…”
With each phrase, I took another brick:
“…take from me the spirit of sloth…”—one brick,
“…despondency…”—another,
“…lust of power and idle talk…”—the third and fourth.

Then, I would carry the bricks to their place, set them down, and as I walked back, continue with the prayer.

Little by little, the lorry emptied. And to my great surprise, I didn’t grow overly tired. Yes, it was still hard physical work—not a leisurely stroll—but there was a steady sense of inner strength. An unshakable feeling kept me going, and I knew I would finish the task and move on to the bakery work.

And so, it happened. In under two hours, the job was done. I washed up and, that same day, baked the planned batch of prosphora—never once letting go of the prayer.

What was even more surprising: the next day, I felt perfectly fine. No sore arms, no aching back—almost as if that lorry had never been there. I simply enjoyed the next two hours, as though I had spent them strolling through a summer garden.

Since that time, whenever an unexpected obedience comes my way—especially when it involves hard physical labour—I turn to the prayer of St. Ephraim. And the Lord never fails to grant His mercy.

So, if you ever find yourself facing an unexpected lorry full of bricks—you’ll know exactly what to do.

Translated by the Catalogue of Good Deeds
Source: https://foma.ru/kak-razgruzit-mashinu-kirpichej-i-ne-ustat-istoriya-pro-silu-molitvy.html