On Christmas eve, 1944, fifty kilometres from the front, and under threat of air strikes, Helen Lescheid’s mother bundled up her four small children, ages 8 to 2, blew out the oil lamp, and slipped with them into the darkness.  “Tonight we’re going to a party,” she said...

We stepped onto the crisp snow covering the farmyard. A moon crescent hung above a large house across the yard where the estate owners lived-kind people who treated us refugees well. It, too, was shrouded in darkness.
Mother lifted Katie and shuffled her to her back; she’d carry her piggyback for the five kilometres.

“Hang tight onto my coat collar,” she coaxed. Then, turning towards us girls, she said, “You take Fred’s hands.” My younger sister and I complied. We had often taken care of our little brother while Mother had culled potatoes in the big barns or had done other chores for the landowners.

At the road, we stopped. Although I knew it well from my treks to school, I could barely make out the houses on either side of the street. No street lights were allowed now. Windows heavily draped permitted no light to seep out of the houses.
My mother hesitated for a brief moment. Then she said, “Come, we’ll take the shortcut across the fields.”

The snow crunched as four pairs of feet punched holes in the white expanse of open fields. Stars spangled the vault of sky above us. A blood-red glow smeared the eastern sky. At times, an explosion sent flames shooting into the sky.
“Girls, recite your poems to me.” Mother’s voice sounded a bit shaky. Her arms aching, she put Katie down on the snowy ground. Our recitations of Christmas poems made white puffs in the cold night air.

When we finished, Mother said, “Speak up loud and clear when your turn comes. No mumbling.” She lifted Katie once more onto her back, and we began to walk again. On and on we walked. But we were far too excited to be tired.
Finally, we arrived at our friends’ house. The door opened, and we stepped inside. I felt I had stepped into heaven itself. Lights! A whole roomful of lights.

Candlelight flickered from a small Christmas tree and bounced out of happy children’s eyes. Heavily-draped windows kept the light inside-for us to revel in. Red paper chains decked the tree; delicate paper cherubs smiled down upon us.

We squeezed in amongst children and women sitting on the floor. Soon the room filled with singing: “Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht” (Silent Night, Holy Night). “Welch ein Jubel, welche Freude...” Some mothers sang alto, the rest of us, soprano. We sang, with gusto and from memory, songs that lifted our hearts above the terrors of war and inspired new hope for the days ahead.

I can’t remember our long trek home that night, but I do remember the wonderful gifts I received. My right pocket bulged with the most beautiful ball I’d ever seen. A very colourful ball it was. Much later, I learned it had been made out of scrunched-up rags wrapped in rainbow-coloured yarn, probably gleaned from unravelling old sweaters. The other pocket held three cookies!

Soon after that wonderful Christmas party, we were evacuated. Icy winds blew snow into our faces as we cowered on an uncovered hay wagon pulled by two scrawny horses. With the front so close behind, we travelled day and night. Once it was safe to stop, we slept in drafty barns. We ate hunks of frozen bread and drank the occasional cup of milk supplied by a Red Cross jeep.

But the warm memory of that Christmas celebration shone like a small candle in the darkness.
 

Excerpted from the short story, “Celebrate the Lights” from To Stand on Mountains, a collection of stories and meditations by Helen Grace Lescheid.  Essence Publishing, c2005.   To order a copy, contact the author at helenlescheid@shaw.ca or by mail at 17-1973 Winfield Drive, Abbotsford, BC. V3G 1K6    A new edition of Lescheid's Lead, Kindly Light will be available in April, 2009. It's the true story of a mother with four small children, forced to flee Russia during World War II. Years of struggle finally bring the family to the freedom and safety of Canada. A triumphant tale of survival and victory!