Author's Note- Happy New Year to all. To all of you who are celebrating the Orthodox Christmas next week here is story especially for you with my own approach to an old Ukrainian folktale.
Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia or Rise of the Guardians, but I am currently working on the exact same lace pattern as Ukraine in this chapter.
The Woman Who Knit By the Window
The way that Christmas was celebrated across the world was changing. In North America the end of WWII had created a baby boom and the sounds of children's laughter rang through many of the nation's homes. After experiencing so much blood and death the former soldiers wanted to do everything in their power to protect their children from the misery they had experienced. In much of Europe did their best to recreate their ancient traditions among the rubble of their once great cities. But as most of the Northern Hemisphere celebrated, there was no Christmas in the Soviet Union.
At least there was not sanctioned Christmas in the Soviet Union, but across the darkened communities of the satellite states the spirit of celebration could not be completely extinguished. In the dark January night, Jack spotted lights shining through the trees on the outskirts of a little village in the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. When the Winter Spirit crept closer he realized that the light was coming from the candles burning inside a little church.
As Jack watched the Christmas Eve service ended and the heavy wooden doors swung open. Quite, simple people exited the building some as couples, others as families. Out of these country folk the very last person was unique. She was a woman in her late teens, possibly early twenties. A worn dress draped her well-endowed body and scarf was draped over her straw colored hair. She was pretty, but her looks was not what attracted Jacks attention. It was her bone weariness. It seemed like she was carrying the weight of a whole country on her shoulders.
"Iryna, do not let your heart be troubled. Tonight is a night of miracles." The weather worn priest said placing a quite hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Open you heart and let the peace of our savoir fill it."
"Thank you Father." The young woman said before she left into the night. "I shall do my best."
Jack followed Iryna through the forest to a tiny one room hut. One whose only decorations for the holiday was a small, roughly carved nativity on the mantle and the silhouette of a stately fir that they young woman had scrawled across the frost on the home's only window pane. After entering Iryna added a small log to a little wood stove and sat down in her only chair to knit. Fingers danced across the delicate lace she was making with practiced grace, which was a good thing because Jack doubted that she could see the pattern she was making through her weeping.
She fell asleep by the window. Yarn in her hands and tears drying on her cheeks. Watching her fitful dreams through the window Jack Frost took pity on the young, lonely woman and decided to do something special. He calmed the North wind and stared the delicate work of weaving ice.
When the first rays of the sun hit the ice latten spruce tree began to sparkle brightly. When you looked closely at the tree you could see patterns woven into the ice. There were prancing reindeer and dancing ballerinas, marching soldiers and tiny spiders weaving strands of tinsel.
Not after dawn Iryna woke and began the tedious chores of caring for the household. She put on her old leather boots to go fetch wood for the fire when she saw the gloriously decorated Christmas tree and her eyes filled with tears. But this time the woman's eyes were filled with tears of amazement instead of tears of despair. With a bounce in her step, she ran towards the other cottages, banging on doors as she went and calling for all of her neighbors to experience the miracle that had just occurred at her home.
Watching the joy the little village experienced viewing Jack's ice sculptures, the Winter Spirit gained a new perspective While family and seasonal foods were treasures at this time of year, a person could find happiness without them. The winter holidays didn't need expensive gifts or fancy parties. The only thing required to celebrate the holidays a person with hope in their heart and the desire to share that hope with others.
End Note- Ukrainian Christmas spiders, yes they are a really thing. Go and look them up.
Next Chapter- The Brother Who Called Over The Wall-It was a city, people, a culture, cut in half with an artificial boundary. One side was communist community which whose poverty was stark when a major metropolis whose bright lights and warm homes just across the wall. But it wasn't the grey monotonic which made the Berlin wall on of Jack's least favorite places. It was the fact it bisected families and every once in a while he could hear members of these broken families calling over the wall in the hope for the chance to hear a love ones voice.