"A 2nd World War 2 Miracle"
For the 1st Miracle story, click here.
From A Thousand Shall Fall by Susie Hasel Mundy, 2001
"Winter Rescue"
Adapted by Gary L. Clendenon, 2024
After the end of World War Two, in the middle of the winter, Helene
Hasel, a Christian woman living in Frankfurt, Germany was on a trip
to find food for her desperately starving family. She rode the
packed train with many others looking for food in the countryside as
they headed towards the Vogelsberg Mountains. She got off the train
at the Eschenrod station and walked the two miles to the village
where she had some friends, a light snow falling as she arrived.
Helene was warmly received by the Jost family who, when they learned
of the hunger in the city, loaded her down with food until she felt
like St. Nikolaus at Christmas packed with gifts for the children.
Hunger would be banished for many weeks. Frau Jost insisted that
Helene spend the night and retire early and promised to wake her up
in time to catch the horse-drawn sled that made the trip to the
railway station early each morning.
With a full heart, Helene knelt beside the bed thanking her heavenly
Father for fulfilling her needs and asking protection for her and her
children the next day. Then she climbed into bed and quickly fell
asleep.
When she heard Frau Jost’s knock on the door, it seemed impossible
that the night had already passed. Frau Jost stuck her head in the
door. “Frau Hasel, you might as well stay in bed.”
“Why?” Helene murmured, still half asleep.
“It will be impossible for you to leave today. It’s been snowing
all night. The sled won’t go to the station this morning. Even
the snowplow won’t go out until the storm stops.”
Helene stepped to the window, and her heart sank. Deep white drifts
covered everything in sight, and enormous flakes still fell from the
sky.
Desperately she turned to the old woman. “I’ve got to leave,”
she said. “The children have no food, and I promised them that I
would be back tonight. They’ll be so worried if I don’t come.
God will watch over me, and if I leave right away, I can get there in
time for the afternoon train to Frankfurt.”
“Frau Hasel, you have at least 80 pounds of food, and there’s no
way you can walk. If something happened to you, I would never
forgive myself.”
“I must go,” Helene said firmly.
Seeing that Helene could not be talked out of her plan, Frau Jost
fixed a sturdy breakfast and while the younger woman ate, Frau Jost
went into her pantry and returned with some little treats for the
children, which she stuffed into every nook of the bulging bags.
Helene was unable to restrain her tears of gratitude. “How will I
ever thank you?”
“No need to thank me,” said Frau Jost, her own eyes wet with
tears. “I am glad to help. Just pass the favor on to someone else
when you are able to. May God protect you.”
Helene embraced the old couple, and then set out. When she reached
the bend in the road, she turned back one last time. They still
stood watching in their doorway. Helene paused for a moment taking
in the scene of the quaint cottage in the cozy village covered in
snow. She lifted her hand, and the couple responded with a last
wave. Though she did not know it then, it was to be the last time
she saw the Josts.
All the while it snowed and snowed, and soon Helene couldn’t see 10
steps in front of her. Her feet seemed heavier and heavier, and her
load pressed down. “Dear God,” she prayed again, “help me, give
me strength.”
Her limbs ached as she painfully pulled each foot out of the deep
snow. Her breathing became labored, and the icy air cut into her
lungs like knives. She reached the hill leading into the woods, and
as she ascended her burden weighed her down even more.
Lord, help me. Oh, who will help me?
Suddenly she could go no further. Her knees started to buckle under
her, and in panic she staggered to a high milestone by the side of
the road. One mile to the station, she read.
Wearily, she leaned against the stone, resting the rucksack on top of
it. As her bags slipped from her hands, they almost disappeared in
the deep snow. She shut her eyes for a moment.
I must not fall asleep. I must not fall asleep. All I need is a
few minutes to catch my breath, and then I’ll continue.
Her thoughts wandered to her hungry children at home. Again she
closed her eyes, then jerked them open. If I fall asleep, I might
never wake up again. She was beginning to feel heavy and
oh-so-comfortably warm. Once more, her eyes closed, and this time
they stayed that way.
The snow settled on her. Soon, still leaning on the signpost, she
looked like a gnarled tree stump, a part of a noiseless landscape.
She started to dream, at first seeing herself standing in the snow
with fluffy snowflakes swirling out of a leaden sky. The next
instant, she was enveloped by a circle of light, and when she looked
again, it was no longer snowflakes but white clad angels that
surrounded her.
Such peace, she thought, such wonderful peace . . .
The rumble of an approaching motor roused her, and she jerked awake.
A diesel truck was laboring up the hill. She tried to raise her hand
to flag it down, but her stiff limbs would not obey her. In despair
she saw the truck continue on its slow course, and sleep washed over
her once more.
A voice suddenly said, “Now you will see a miracle of God.”
A heavy hand shook her by the shoulder. Each time she tried to raise
her head, it drooped forward again. The shaking, the jolting, went
on and on.
Leave me alone, she thought. I’m so wonderfully warm,
and I have no energy to move.
“Wake up, wake up,” a rough voice kept saying. “You must wake
up. You are about to freeze.”
Annoyed, she finally opened her eyes to see a man standing in front
of her.
“I parked my truck at the top of the hill,” he said. “I
couldn’t stop right here or I never would have made it up. You
come with me now, and I’ll give you a ride.”
Mechanically she tried to stand up straight, but her stiff body did
not cooperate. Realizing she needed help, the driver took her bags
and rucksack and started up the hill. Then he returned and half
dragged, half carried her to the cab. He gave her a drink from his
thermos of hot tea, wrapped blankets around her, and turned the heat
up high before he continued his journey.
“That was a close call,” the man said, “I do believe you almost
froze to death.” I nearly missed seeing you, you were so covered
with snow. What are you doing out anyway on a day like this?”
Helen was beginning to thaw out. She told him about her four hungry
children at home and her effort to get food.
“Thank you so much for picking me up. God sent you to help me,”
she concluded. “I know I shouldn’t have rested. But I was so
tired. As soon as I stopped, warmth flooded through me. I just
could not stay awake. It would be a great help if you could take me
to the train station.”
“You know,” he said, “the interesting thing is I never come
this way. Today is the first time I’ve been along this route. As
far as taking you to the train station, that’s going to be useless.
I know from reliable sources that all trains are being searched.
Any black market food is being confiscated. It would be a shame to
lose it after all you’ve been through to get it. Where do you
live, anyway?”
“In Eschersheim, near Frankfurt.”
“I tell you what. I’ll just take you there. Eschersheim is not
much out of my way.”
Gratefully Helene accepted. She now looked at the driver more
carefully. Middle-aged, nondescript, coarse hands, rough clothing,
brown hair streaked with gray, probably married with children
himself. He began responding to her small talk with monosyllables.
Finally she gave up and dozed off. She woke when the truck stopped.
“Well, here we are,” said the driver, turning off the motor. He
lifted out her bags, then helped her down the steep step.
She took his hand gratefully. “I just don’t know how to thank
you enough.”
“I’m just glad I found you before it was too late. In the future
you must stay home in such bad weather. Now I must be on my way.”
With a final nod of his head he climbed back into the cab. She
stooped to slip the rucksack straps over her shoulders, groggily
wondering how she had gotten there. Then she turned to have a last
glance at the disappearing truck. She looked down the length of the
street.
There was no truck.
And there were no tracks in the freshly fallen snow.
