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Gently, silently, just
like snowflakes that have been all day fluttering to frozen ground,
night was falling to a small Slavonian village.
Through the window
panes of the village houses broke yellow light of the paraffin
lamps, while people were finishing hurriedly daily jobs, preparing
themselves for the Holy Christmas evening. My mother was working
diligently since the early morning all around the house, preparing
special meals for Christmas holidays. Older sister was cleaning the
path covered with snow, while my father carried his faggot to a
large room. I knew the light would be lit in a huge oven and it
would keep us warm during Christmas days. I enjoyed the heat and
light of the fire. Through a little grate on the lower door I could
see the flickering light that played all over whitewashed walls,
giving to a whole room attractive look. Father carefully lit the
fire using dried splinter and the fire quickly burst into new flames
warming the cold walls and defrosting the last traces of the frozen
flowers on the window panes.
The last traces of
the sledges that silently moved along the snowy road, were fading
away by the second end of the village. Silence in awaiting something
happy could be felt in a fresh night air and in all corners.
Sister brought in the
room the Christmas tree. We always had a tree for Christmas. Even
though I did not understand its meaning, I admired the skill of my
sister to decorate a tree with all sorts of cookies, golden nuts and
special candies in colourful paper. Mother was preparing the table
for the supper. In the middle of the table there was a round plate
with sprout wheat in the middle of which there was a lit Christmas
candle. Mother called my sister and me to sit at the table, and then
there was silence. The door opened, my father came in, bare-headed,
carrying on his back some straw. He saluted us: Blessed be Jesus and
Mary! Merry Christmas!
Thank God and thank
you, replied my mother. I looked at the face of my father and I
noticed some strange light and deep happiness that changed his face.
I wanted to find out and feel what could influence him so that made
his face shine.
Today I know that my
father was a great believer, that he loved God more than anything,
believing in a life-saving power of Jesus Christ, seriously taking
the message of the Gospel, a message of happiness, love and peace.
Only that deep faith and love could make his face shine that
long-past, holy Christmas evening.
Straw was spread all
around the floor by all of us. Then we sat, and father started a
prayer which that night was kind of warmer and humbler. After supper
my sister started singing a favourite Christmas song: Heavenly King
was Born ...
We all joined full of
joy, singing with faith and happiness, celebrating God, who sent us
His Son, Our Saviour.
While I was playing
with cats, rolling on the straw, the adults were preparing to go to
church. Snow was creaking under the feet of many who were going to
church, while the lights of their lanterns played in the night. The
church bell that night called believers happier to the Mass.
Late at night, tired
of playing and happy because Christmas was there, I fell asleep with
a rag doll in my arms. Early in the morning, while the last stars
were still twinkling on a morning sky, I was awaken by a man's
voice. It was Polo¾aj, a young man from the neighbourhood, who came
first to congratulate. With a nice song he wished us plentiful of
everything, health, success and happiness in all our family.
All the best to you,
too. - said my mother and offered him cakes, some roast and fruits.
When I grew up and
left home, where in my childhood I experienced the happiest holiday
- Christmas, in my memory still lives the expression of my father's
face, that was through deep faith transformed that Holy Christmas
evening. In my soul I still feel the same faith in God, the faith
that burned in my heart the light of happiness that still lights and
shines on my life path.
That was and still is
my favourite Christmas present. |
