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Christmas in Russia

Elvira Derksen
Susan Werschler

Elvira Derksen

My family had unsuccessfully tried to flee Russia in 1929; I was five years old. My mother was expecting my brother, and she was very weak. There was not enough to eat, and she withheld food from herself, so that Dad would have the strength to work.

The fear of Dad being taken away was always there. Sometimes we would take Dad’s family pictures and run behind the barn. I don’t know what that would have helped. We were so afraid. My parents encouraged us that, if Father were sent one way and Mother were sent another way, we had relatives in Canada. In Russia, the children were usually put in orphanages, so Mother and Father told us if that happened to us, we had relatives in Canada. I don’t think we had an address or anything.

Often we wondered in the evening: “Are they coming tonight?” It was very scary. Then one night the KGB came. At a quarter to three, they knocked on the door. I woke and sat up in bed, watching it all. They touched my dad’s beard and said, “Get up!” Mom and Dad had just a few rubles, which they divided. Dad said to the men, “Why are you taking me?” They said, “Be quiet, or else!” They took many men out of Chortitza at that time, 75-to-100 at a time.

This was just before Christmas 1937. My dad’s hobby was making guitars, and I remember going to gatherings where he played with other men. It seemed so special. That Christmas, he had made a guitar for me, but later we had to sell it for money. I’ll remember that all my life. The whole thing was so cruel, so brutal; there was no reason for it.

Life became very harsh. It was a struggle to get enough to eat. Mother would go to work, and we lived in one little room.

There was a lot of sadness, but children can take a lot. There was always a lot of love and a lot of care. Those women who were in the same dilemma looked out for each other.

Susan Werschler

Christmas in Russia in 1939 will always be in my memory. The Russian police had recently taken my father away. Mother was left alone with five children. We all knew that at Christmas there would be no gifts on our plates at the table, as was the custom in Russia. How Mother must have prayed at that time! How heavy her heart must have been to know there would be nothing to give to her children.

Then, two or three nights before Christmas Eve, there was a loud knock at the door. Our hearts froze. So often when there was a hard knock at the door in the evening, it was the Russian police. After it was all quiet, we opened the door. There, to our great surprise, was a fair-sized parcel with two words written on it: “Merry Christmas.” The parcel contained many beautiful things, including Russian candy.

How our eyes sparkled! I am sure Mother had tears in her eyes. It turned out to be a wonderful Christmas after all.

Much later, we were told who had given us the gift. They are all gone now and, I am sure, rejoicing in heaven; their Christmas treasure has followed them.

Today we are blessed with many things. We do not have to worry about food. Should we then forget our past? Should we not praise our Father for the miracles He has done and will do if we trust Him?

Elvira Derksen and her husband Victor are members of Mclvor Ave. MB Church in Winnipeg, and are actively involved in refugee concerns. This article is based on a reading given at the Fifty Year Freedom Jubilee Aug. 16, 1998 in Winnipeg and later published in Sophia magazine and is reprinted by permission.

Susan Werscher is a member of McIvor Ave. MB Church in Winnipeg. This article was originally told to a group of women at a Mclvor Ave. MB Church Christmas banquet. It was later published in Sophia magazine and is reprinted by permission.

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Last modified December 9, 1999.

© 1999 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
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