A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

By Kathleen R. Ruckman

Many have written and asked me to include this touching story in this collection. It is easy for us to be complacent because of the great progress that have been made in medical research. Nevertheless, fatal diseases like the diphtheria in this report can also hit us - diseases that are life-threatening and without any known treatment that can cure the disease. Suddenly, families, within a few hours, lost their children and carried them to the cemetery. How can you talk about Christmas celebration in such tragical circumstances?

That was the question .

The author wrote to me from Oregon about the origin of the story: " From my early childhood I remember that grandmother, Suzanna told us this story many times. We children sat around the kitchen table and listened. Because I am a freelance writer, I have written the stories that grandma told."

It was Christmas Eve in 1908, and a diphtheria epidemic ravaged the eastern Czech Republic.

In the small village Velk'y Slavkov, who was situated below the high Tatra mountains, a lonely man walked on a deserted street. He pushed his hat further down on the head to protect himself from the biting wind.

Along the way he passed many homes with sealed windows where blinds were pulled down. For weeks the diphtheria ravaged the villages at the foot of the Tatra massif. This acute infectious disease attacks the upper respiratory system. Almost half of population in Velk'y Slavkov had been victims of the disease. Many of victims were children who were under ten years old.

The man climbed up on a ladder with the paint pail, which he wore on, and painted a black cross over the doorpost of the family , Boratko. Another home was quarantined. When the man had gone Suzanna Boratko knelt on the stairs. She wept and prayed in Slovak . In less than a week, she and her husband, Jano suddenly childless. Their oldest child, five year old Mariena, had succumbed to the disease a few days ago. In the workroom in the backyard Jano was putting the finishing touches on the two coffins for his two sons. The diphtheria had taken them earlier the same day. Jano sobbed and coughed and there was a constant whistle and hisse in his throat - he was also attacked by the deadly disease.

Suzanna went back into the house. She shed tears of sorrow, while she washed and dressed his sons for the last time and laid them in the homemade pine coffins. Her and Jano lifted them up to the truck and began the long walk to the city cemetery.

While they drove the horse through the deep snow, they huddled together in the icy wind that went through their body and soul. " Another trip to the cemetery is more than I can bear," cried Suzanne, while they passed house after house with the black death notice. The couple knew what these families went through but weren't up to giving sympathy or encouragement. They had sunk too deep in their own grief with their sons in the coffins cotton sheets.

Two new tombs were carved out of the frozen ground. The 3 children would be together in eternity now. Suzanna struggled through the Lord's Prayer, took on the cold ground and could not let it go. Eventually Jano went to her and dragged her from the cemetery with the last effort and helped her back to the cart. She crossed the empty arms of the broken heart and knew that she would never be able to hold and squeeze her children again.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Jano and Suzanne needed consolation when they went into its branded house. They needed encouragement from friends in the village. But there was no one who dared come. They had no Christmas greetings and no sympathy . The black cross over the door meant "death" and "trespassing forbidden". The dark house was like a dreaded empty tomb.

Small brown leather shoes were still lined up in front of the stove, as they used to be after the children carefully and gently had been put to bed in the same bed. Now the big bed was empty and the old house had never seemed so cold.

" I am not going to experience next Christmas," Jano whispered weakly to his wife. "I do not even think I will experience the New Year" He pushed the soup and bread from him, as he had been unable to swallow. The diphtheria sort of had laced a tight noose around his neck and prevented him from eating and breathing. The village doctor helplessly had shrug his shoulders as he passed by them for some days ago. There was nothing, he could do for him.

Suzanna picket up kindling wood and prepared the fire for the night. She was sure that her husband was on the verge of death, but morning came, and Jano was still alive. The snow was falling from a gray sky and the wind put a layer of white mist of the frozen windows. Exhausted after a long and sleepless night Suzanne dippet a cloth in cold water once again to cool Janos burning forehead. Then she rubbed the thin ice away from her window and looked up at the Tatra mountains. She thought of the words of Psalm 121.1: " I lift my eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help?".

Suddenly, her eyes turned towards a peasant woman, who dragged her way through the snow. The Scottish- plaid shawl that the old woman had on her shoulders, seemed insufficient to guard her against the morning chill. She had a thin scarf around her head, and her long peasant skirt was an a multicolored patchwork of overlapping in cotton and linen. Her wool leggings and high boots helped her through the deep snow on the road. In her bare hand she carried a pitcher with clear liquid in it.

Suzanna looked in wonder while the old wife dragged herself up over the forbidden path. Then she heard two strokes on the door knocker. She opened the door cautiously and stared at an unknown face. It was wrinkled due to many long years of hard farm work and severe winters. But her eyes radiated a warmth that penetrated into Suzanne's heart. "We have epidemic in the house, and the man has a fever " she warned.

The old woman nodded and asked if she could be allowed to enter. She handed Suzanne the pitcher. " Take a clean cloth around your finger" she explained , " dip it in this clean paraffin and then scrub your husband's neck with it. Get him to swallow a spoon of oil. Then he will womit the mortal mucus. Otherwise he will suffocate. I will pray for you and your family. "

The old woman pressed Suzannas hand and quickly went out into the cold outside. Never before had Suzanne experienced anything like this. Here a poor woman came in love ​​while an epidemic devastated. This unexpected gift was a folk medicine against diphtheria. "I will try it!" She shouted with tears in her eyes after the old woman. "God bless you! "

Early in the morning on Christmas Day Jano womited the deadly slime up and the fever subsided. Suzanne cried and praised God . For a moment, a glimmer of hope shone shone in her heart. One day God would bless her and Jano with several children. There were no presents under the decorated Christmas tree that morning, but the oil jar that glinted in the window, was a gift of life for future generations.

Epilogue : In the days after Janos incredible healing Suzanne shared folk medicine with her neighbors. Jano came to America in the 20s to find work . Later Suzanne joined him with 8 of their children. The ship that took them over there, reached Ellis Island on 22 February 1926, on Washington's birthday, and the family settled at the steel rolling mills in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. The family was blessed with 9 children, a set of triplets, 2 sets of twins and two other siblings. Two of the triplets boys were named John and Paul after the two sons who succumbed to the diphtheria. The third triplet was given the name, Samuel , who is the father of this writer .