Reader's Digest Interactive
From 
We slept in wooden bunks in a large dormitory, 40 or so girls together. A wood-burning stove in the middle of the spacious room kept us reasonably warm in the evenings.
As captive labour we were forced to work ten hours a day, six days a week. Our captors fed us but the food was very poor. We were young, working hard and needing more food than we were given.
We would often try to supplement our meagre meals by going out to nearby farmers and begging or buying some skim milk, bread, occasionally an egg, or even a lump of butter. My friend, Shura, and I went on these foraging excursions two or three times a week.
On this particular night Shura and I finished work a little early and decided to go out and try to get some food. It was a very cold, frosty, still evening with a clear sky and full moon. The ground was covered with snow and the fir forest around us was beautiful - like in a fairy tale. Each tree was dressed like a bride in sparkling white, glistening in the moonlight with pearls and diamonds.
We walked to a farmhouse at the edge of the forest and noticed a light shining in a window. Obviously the farm dwellers thought their location was too remote and they need not worry about the war-imposed blackouts.
Peering through the window, we saw a large room lit by the coloured lights of a beautifully decorated fir tree, standing tall in the corner.
The family was gathered round it, singing. There was an elderly couple and three children with them, probably their grandchildren. From outside we could hear their sweet, soft melodies.
It was only then that I realised it was Christmas. Coming from Soviet Russia, where religion was prohibited, we had only heard about Christmas but had never actually participated in this festivity. So Shura and I stood there silently for a moment, not quite knowing what we should do.
Finally we decided we had nothing to lose and having walked that far, it would be silly to turn back.
Gently we knocked on the door. The farmer opened it and, seeing us, stood in the doorway with some hesitation. He recognised us from previous visits and probably felt sorry for us - two pathetic beggars. Then his wife joined him. "Come in, girls. You are wecome," she said.
Haltingly we stepped inside, shyly looking around us, but the farmer's family made us welcome by asking us to join them at their Christmas table. I was relieved to see there was no hostility in their faces, only kindness.
These people did not regard us as their enemy. They saw us as fellow human beings, hungry and miserable, and they extended goodwill and peace to us on this special night - my very first Christmas.
· Natasha Timms, 79, lives in Ringwood, Victoria. She is currently enrolled in the University of the Third Age studying creative writing and public speaking. She has two daughters.
Del.icio.us
Digg
Reddit
Facebook
StumbleUpon
Scenic Wonders of Australia
Gambling with their Lives
HealthSmart Awards
Managing Your Health
