As Christmas approaches, I remember the Christmas season of 1946-1947, in post-WWII West Germany. Ice on the inside walls, electricity 45 minutes per day, and almost no food. We were hungry and it was dark outside.

Mom and Dad usually hid their concerns from us, but this evening, despair hung in the air. As recently arrived refugees, we were still strangers in the village.

An unexpected knock on the door. The daughter of one of the local farmers brought us a large pot of warm water that sausages had been boiled in. The sausages had been fished out, but the fragrance of the fat floating on top was glorious. An overwhelming feeling of thankfulness and joy filled our dimly lit living room. We did not go hungry that night.

I think hardship strengthens us and teaches us to be more compassionate and thankful for what we have.

You might consider my memoir as a Christmas gift. Get your copy on Amazon.com, or you can get a signed copy here on this website.