My Third Favorite Christmas Story, Revised ------------- 12/24/19

WWII photo of the Ardennes Forest

        May life treat you well. For many, this sea-son can be frantic and materialistic. 

        Needn't be so.  In the inn, we count down to the biggest day of this month.  Today, and to-morrow, I present stories written related to this season. 

         The goal remains counter-balancing the pressures of Madison Avenue.  The stress of splurging assaults us. We become distracted from the meaning of Christmas. Family happiness depends upon many gifts for everyone, we are told. 

          Candy canes, Santas, and elves do not state the story of this season. We do not reveal how much we care for loved ones by how much we shell out for gifts.  Heavens no. 

         

          Christmas is not about warm feelings, Christmas trees or music, eggnog, hearth, and home.  Nope.  It's about the most incredible gift mankind received. God's love for us. 

          The gift of his Son, given to this world, is celebrated on this day. Tomorrow's two stories dip further into the meaning of this season. 

      Below is my third favorite Christmas-related story.  My telling of it is based on research and the account given by Fritz Vincken, the young twelve-year-old son mentioned in the version below.  For more about him, read here. 

        Wishing you a terrific Christmas, 

              The Innkeeper

**********

       In December 1944, the Battle of the Bulge was fought in sub-freezing weather.  The American and British troops were defeating a German force twice their number.  This engagement lasted from December 16th until January 25th, 1945.  A cook for the Nazi Army left his wife and young son in a shack in the Ardennes Forest near the German-Belgium border, seemingly distant from danger.

    The poor weather---snow, bitter cold, and impenetrable fog--grounded Allied aircraft and aided the German advance.  That Christmas Eve, soldiers on both sides were lost.  Many sought a place. 

to bed down until morning before resuming their search for their unit. 

    The following story happened seventy-four years ago......

       The snow crunched as three American soldiers trudged through the forest.  Weighed down with their sixty-pound packs and nine-pound M1903 Springfield rifles, the combat-tested Americans stumbled upon an occupied shack after tromping around for three hours, and light glowed from it.  

       Smoke poured from the chimney, and it offered the chance of a warm refuge for their frost-bit, combat-weary bodies.  Breaking the silence of the night, upon the door of the tiny house, they knocked. 

       Frau Vincken was preparing a meal using a scrawny chicken. Using sign language, the soldiers asked to enter. A mother---Elizabeth---with her twelve-year-old son by her side, responded.

       She waved the men in, offering a simple Christmas meal.

       One soldier was shot in the thigh during a firefight that morning. The stabbing pain had him rocking from side to side as he lay on the couch. The woman, using rags, stopped the bleeding.  

       The language barrier was broken when the men learned the lady spoke French, which a G.I. from Louisiana knew. 

       The Americans grunted in relief as they unloaded their packs.  This evening provided a rare chance to stretch out.  Spending the night in something more significant and warmer than a foxhole was welcomed, especially in this weather. 

      The heat from the hearth, an ap-preciated unexpected early Christmas gift.  Little did these men know that soon, emanating from the room would be the warmth of another kind.

      More than an hour passed when a crisp rap upon the weather-worn door startled the little family and the Ameri-can visitors.  The men grabbed their weapons while Elizabeth answered the door.  Four German soldiers were lost. 

      "Was shelter available?" they asked.  "Yes, come in for Christmas dinner, but I have other guests," she answered.  One German soldier remarked, "Americana?"  Elizabeth replied, "Yes."

       "This is Christmas Eve.  No killing tonight, in my home."  She ordered the Germans to leave their weapons outside before entering. 

        The American G.I.s did the same. The combatants stood, men who, earlier that day, sought to kill one another.  The little boy's heart banged loudly, and Fritz pulled on his winter jacket to muffle the sound. 

       The lad didn't want anyone to hear the dynamic percussion. 

       For what seemed an eternity---eight minutes---the room strained under an uncomfortable silence. Eventually, American cigarettes were offered to the Europeans. The men warily eyed each other. 

       The Germans welcomed them, provisions being scarce.  A German soldier with medical training inspected the wounded American.  Finding usable items within the bungalow, he tended to the injured G.I. 

        Preparations for the Christmas dinner were completed.  The food was meager-----what was meant for the Frau Vincken, and Fritz served seven last-minute guests.  A bag of potatoes stretched the food, becoming the base for a hearty soup.  

        Before eating, the woman rose to speak. 

        Elizabeth recounted the Christmas Story, speaking of the hope it offered. She declared war was wrong. The host spoke in German to the European visitors and French to the Americans.

        The soldiers, including the tough German sergeant, were moved.  The eyes of a few of these battle-hardened men swam with held-back tears.  When they were little, the men recalled stories told during Christmas in their childhood homes.  

        While gnawing upon the stringy chicken, uneasiness transformed into the warmth of companions sharing a simple, appreciated meal.  After dinner, the Nazi soldiers sang Silent Night, a song of Austrian origin; by tradition, it could not be sung before Christmas Eve.  

        Afterward, two German men sang it in English, along with the guests from the United States.

        Fed and satisfied with their first home-cooked meal in months, the men slept in the cramped quarters of the tiny alpine cottage.  In the morning, the Germans crafted a stretcher for the wounded American.  A compass and directions were given to them, too. 

        The Nazi soldiers took the lady and her son back to the German lines, reuniting her with her husband.

        For one night, during a violence-strewn battle, God's peace dwelt within nine who spent the night in a little cabin.  Even in the worst possible conditions, the love of God resided among them. 

*******

       In Bethlehem, more than two thousand years ago, a young pregnant woman and her husband were not admitted to a crowded inn.  No room for the Christ child.  Today, this slight can be corrected.  He can be welcomed into the inn of our hearts.  You can invite Him if you haven't.  You'll discover the greatest Christmas gift ever----eternal life.

        Peace born in Bethlehem was showered upon nine people in the middle of the Battle of the Bulge in war-torn Europe.  Experiencing God's harmony and love is available today to hearts torn with despair, fear, or pain.

         The world desperately needs to know hope, freedom from fear, gratitude, and tranquility. I ask God to show me how I can demonstrate character like the mother in this story.  Being an instrument of His peace, my desire.

How About You? 

How are you celebrating this Christmas season? 

  May you have a great and grateful Christmas!