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!

               

My Third Favorite Christmas Season Story ........... 12/23/11

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget
that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but
 to live by them.”       John F. Kennedy       

      The following is my re-telling of events, based on research and an account given by Fritz Vincken, the young eleven year old son mentioned in the story.  For more about him, read here. 

       In December 1944, the Battle of the Bulge was fought in sub-freezing weather.  The American and British troops were defeating a Ger-man 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 greatly aided the German advance.  That Christmas Eve, soldiers on both sides became lost.  Many looked for a place to bed down until morning, when they would resume their search for their unit. 

       The following story happened sixty-seven years ago........

      Three American soldiers stumbled upon an occupied shack.  Light emanated from the cottage windows, smoke pouring from the chimney.  It offered a chance to warm their frost-bit, combat-weary bodies.

        Upon its door, they knocked. 

       A mother and a young boy responded.  Using sign language, the soldiers asked to enter.  The German woman was preparing a meal, using a scrawny chicken.   She beckoned the men in, offering her simple Christmas meal.

       One soldier was wounded, shot during a fire-fight earlier that day.  The woman, using rags, stopped his bleeding.  He laid upon the living room couch.  The language barrier was broken when the men learned the lady spoke French, a language that a G.I. from Louisiana knew. 

   

      The Americans unloaded their forty-five to sixty pound packs.  The evening provided a rare chance to stretch-out.  Spend-ing the night in some-thing bigger and warmer than a foxhole was a welcomed treat, especially in this weather.  

       The heat from the hearth, was an appreciated, an unexpected early Christmas gift.   Little did they know the room would experience warmth of another kind, soon.

      More than an hour passed when a rap upon the weather-worn door startled the little family and American visitors.  The men grabbed their weapons.  The woman answered the door.  

      Four German soldiers were lost.  "Was shelter available?" they asked the lady.  "Yes, come in for Christmas dinner, but I have other guests," she answered. 

       One German soldier remarked, "Americana?"  She said, "Yes. This is Christmas.  There'll be no killing tonight, not in my home."  She ordered the Germans to leave their weapons outside, before entering.  Those from the United States were instructed to do the same.

       The combatants stood together, men who earlier that day, sought to kill one another.  The little boy heard his heart banging loudly.  He pulled on his winter jacket.   

        He didn't want everyone else hearing the emotional percussion, too. 

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

       The Germans wel-comed them, provisions being scarce.  A German soldier with medical train-ing inspected the wounded American.  Finding usable items within the home, he tended to the injured G.I. 

        Preparations for the Christmas dinner were completed.  The food was meager-----what was meant for the woman and her son was stretched to serve seven last-minute guests.  A bag of stored potatoes provided a hearty soup.  Before eating, the woman of the cabin spoke. 

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

        The soldiers, including the tough German sergeant, were moved.  The eyes of few of these battle-hardened men swam.  They recalled stories told to them during Christmas, when they were little, in warmed childhood homes.  

        While gnawing at the stringy chicken, the uneasiness the men had towards each other transformed into warmth. 

        After the meal, the Nazi soldiers sang Silent Night, a song of German origin.  Afterwards, two of the Germans sang  the verses in English, along with the Americans.

        Fed and satisfied with their first home-cooked meal in months, the men slept in the cramped quarters of the alpine cottage.  In the morning, the Ger-mans made a stretcher for the wounded American.   A compass and directions were given to the Americans.  The Germans took the lady and boy back to the German lines, reuniting her with her husband.

        For one night, during a horrific battle, God's peace dwelt within nine who spent the night in a tiny cabin.  Even in the worst possible situation, God dwelt among them. 

        Two thousand years ago, a young pregnant woman and her husband were not admitted to a crowded inn, in Bethlehem.  No room for the Christ child.  Today, this slight can be corrected. 

         He can be welcomed into the inn of our hearts.  Invite Him, if you haven't.  You'll discover the greatest Christmas gift ever----eternal life.

        The Peace in Bethlehem came to nine persons in a middle of the Battle of the Bulge in war-torn Europe.  Experiencing God's love and peace is just as available today, to hearts torn with despair or pain.

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

        May you have a great and grateful Christmas!