Dear Readers..
WE have the sweetest post for YOU tonight. It is sweet in two ways, the first because it is true and the second is because it brought much happiness to both families.
Are YOU sitting comfortably? Then I will begin..
MIRACLE IN TRANSIT.
Thousands of Polish soldiers, women and children arrived in transit camps in the Middle East after being released by the Russians following the German attack on the USSR in 1941 and I helped to entertain them.
One of the soldiers, a quiet, withdrawn young man, had had to leave his young wife a week before the birth of their first baby. With no news of her and no hope of seeing her again, it was small wonder he had "no heart" for any on the parties we arranged.
All his spare time he spent carving with loving care little wooden figures of The Virgin, The Child, Joseph, and an ox and an ass.
The young wood-carver was persuaded to come to the Christmas Eve party. He was carrying a small parcel when I went in the lorry to pick them up from the men's camp.
"They are finished, my little family," he said. "I cannot give them to my child, so I will give them to the first Polish child I see."
He opened my driving door for me when we reached the family camp. I looked up to thank him but the look on his face drove the thought from my mind.
He stood motionless, as if he had seen a vision. Then, with a shout that turned all heads, ran to a young woman carrying a sturdy baby boy and flung his arms around them.
The joy of seeing that little family reunited, the chubby baby looking at the Christmas presents I had watched grow out of love and heartbreak, is something I shall never forget.
SECOND TALE.
The author of this Tale about the Polish soldier was Constance.. aka HER mother.
Those of YOU who have read all the Posts of MY Blog might remember that HER parents had to sell their much beloved home, going to live in a tiny house lent to them by extremely kind friends, SHE had left school, all of HER animals were given away and a most of their lovely furniture sold.
Hugo's health was very bad, there were no Benefits to help in such
a situation. Life was extremely bleak and hard. Constance worked her fingers to the bone doing what she could.
When she saw an advertisement to win a £100.00 for the best story which HAD to be true and provably so, she entered it and prayed, it was coming up to Christmas, there was no Goose getting fat, all of her beloved livestock had been sold with her much beloved house.
She wrote the story, posted it off to the newspaper and prayed.
On Tuesday, 21st December.. she received the following letter..
Mrs. Constance ..... 20th
Watercress Cottage,
Littlebourne,
Canterbury Kent.
Dear Mrs. ........
I am pleased to tell you that your Christmas story has been selected as the one-hundred-pound prize winner in our Christmas Story Competition and will appear in our issue on December 23rd.
Your story was selected out of an entry of more than six-thousand and we enjoyed it very much. I am enclosing the cheque for one-hundred-pounds with my sincere hopes that it will bring you some pleasure.
Yours sincerely,
Anthony Clarkson.
Editor.
WE have the sweetest post for YOU tonight. It is sweet in two ways, the first because it is true and the second is because it brought much happiness to both families.
Are YOU sitting comfortably? Then I will begin..
MIRACLE IN TRANSIT.
Thousands of Polish soldiers, women and children arrived in transit camps in the Middle East after being released by the Russians following the German attack on the USSR in 1941 and I helped to entertain them.
One of the soldiers, a quiet, withdrawn young man, had had to leave his young wife a week before the birth of their first baby. With no news of her and no hope of seeing her again, it was small wonder he had "no heart" for any on the parties we arranged.
All his spare time he spent carving with loving care little wooden figures of The Virgin, The Child, Joseph, and an ox and an ass.
The young wood-carver was persuaded to come to the Christmas Eve party. He was carrying a small parcel when I went in the lorry to pick them up from the men's camp.
"They are finished, my little family," he said. "I cannot give them to my child, so I will give them to the first Polish child I see."
He opened my driving door for me when we reached the family camp. I looked up to thank him but the look on his face drove the thought from my mind.
He stood motionless, as if he had seen a vision. Then, with a shout that turned all heads, ran to a young woman carrying a sturdy baby boy and flung his arms around them.
The joy of seeing that little family reunited, the chubby baby looking at the Christmas presents I had watched grow out of love and heartbreak, is something I shall never forget.
SECOND TALE.
The author of this Tale about the Polish soldier was Constance.. aka HER mother.
Those of YOU who have read all the Posts of MY Blog might remember that HER parents had to sell their much beloved home, going to live in a tiny house lent to them by extremely kind friends, SHE had left school, all of HER animals were given away and a most of their lovely furniture sold.
Hugo's health was very bad, there were no Benefits to help in such
a situation. Life was extremely bleak and hard. Constance worked her fingers to the bone doing what she could.
When she saw an advertisement to win a £100.00 for the best story which HAD to be true and provably so, she entered it and prayed, it was coming up to Christmas, there was no Goose getting fat, all of her beloved livestock had been sold with her much beloved house.
She wrote the story, posted it off to the newspaper and prayed.
On Tuesday, 21st December.. she received the following letter..
Mrs. Constance ..... 20th
Watercress Cottage,
Littlebourne,
Canterbury Kent.
Dear Mrs. ........
I am pleased to tell you that your Christmas story has been selected as the one-hundred-pound prize winner in our Christmas Story Competition and will appear in our issue on December 23rd.
Your story was selected out of an entry of more than six-thousand and we enjoyed it very much. I am enclosing the cheque for one-hundred-pounds with my sincere hopes that it will bring you some pleasure.
Yours sincerely,
Anthony Clarkson.
Editor.
I am sorry that Blogspot will not let me finish this Post or sign off.
ReplyDeleteSHE has the original page of the paper with the story AND the letter from the editor to Constance.
The story was published by REVEILLE, December 23rd, 1965.
The equivalent sum today would be over £1,500.00.. YOU can all imagine the joy and relief with which the letter with the enclosed cheque was received!
This story is so wonderful it gave me chills. Thank you for a perfectly beautiful tale to end the year.
ReplyDelete