By Ray Lenarcic

He came out of the woods only on rare occasions. But when he did, the townspeople stopped what they were doing to take notice. He was very tall, maybe six and a half feet, sported a long, matted flaming red-streaked-with-gray beard and, regardless of the time of year, wore the same clothes. Although he had been around for years, no one knew his name or had heard him speak. Other than the huge, black, shaggy dog that followed in his footsteps, he was always alone. His visits were short-just enough time to trade his magnificent wood carvings at the general store for some food and essentials. Then he’d head back up the mountain accompanied by the taunts of children and the laughter and whispers of their parents. Most recently, his gait had slowed noticeably and he was limping.

The village of Viesbadt was situated several thousand feet above sea level in a picturesque valley distinguished by steep, forested hillsides and lush mountain meadows. Its inhabitants were primarily woodsmen and farmers. Because life was so difficult, everyone looked forward to the holidays. The most joyous was Christmas. A three-day affair, the celebration featured the traditional hanging of the greens, carol singing, church service and winter sports. And for the children there was the visit by Father Christmas and, best of all, the search for the Yule Log.

For Willy and Hans, this was the highlight of the season. Last year, they had just missed finding the prized hollowed-out log filled with candy, fruits and toys. This was going to be their year. With Willy’s sister, Marie, tagging along, the boys joined the other kids at 2:00 P.M. in the town square. At the sound of the horn, they scattered in all directions. The search was on and with a blue sky and bright sun, conditions were perfect.

Willy and Hans had decided earlier that they’d look for the log in a place least suspected-the forest at the top of a nearby mountain. Taking a well-traveled path, they entered a thickly wooded area. Apparently, they hadn’t noticed the storm clouds sweeping in. The wind was picking up and it had begun to snow. As dark began to fall, they decided, with heavy hearts, that it was time to return home. But as they made their way back, it became more difficult to follow the path until covered by snow, it simply disappeared. The storm had become a blizzard and they were lost.

“Over here.” A loud voice called to them. The children walked in the direction of the sound. “Follow me.” All they could make out was a large, snow-covered figure. “Take each other’s hand and you (Hans) take mine.” After a few minutes, they came to a clearing where a small cabin was located. In its lone window was a lighted candle.

Once inside, the children shook the snow from their clothing and looked around. In one corner was a small fireplace with a few logs piled nearby. A bed stretched from the opposite wall. It looked like it was covered with rags. In the middle of the room was a table and two chairs. The big, black dog greeted each child with multiple kisses. “Easy, boy.” As the giant of a man began to unwrap the scarf from his face, Marie noticed who it was and screamed.

It was him. The strange man with the red beard. He could talk after all. In a soft voice he calmed the little girl and told them all to take off their wet hats, coats and boots. After tucking them into bed, he explained that he was nearly out of wood and was going out to get more. He motioned his dog onto the bed. The kids curled up next to him for warmth and, exhausted, they soon fell asleep. As they did, the man lit a fresh candle, placed it in the window and limped out into the storm.

When the children had failed to return, a search party was formed. The kids were last seen heading into the forest in the same direction taken by the stranger. The townsfolk quickly concluded that he had kidnapped them. As the searchers headed up the mountain, they spoke angrily of retribution. Many carried guns.

The storm began to let up and after hours of searching in the dark, one of the men shouted, “Come quickly.” As they grouped together, the shouter pointed ahead and said, “I think I see a light.” Barely visible in the darkness and swirling snow was a flicker of light. The men walked rapidly in its direction. “It’s a candle; there’s a cabin over there.”

As they drew near, the loud barking of a dog could be heard. Slowly, two of the men entered the cabin. There, next to the dog, sat the three children rubbing sleep from their eyes. “Daddy, daddy,” shouted Marie. The sound of her voice brought the others and soon the room was filled with the happiest faces you’d ever want to see. After hugs and kisses, Hans told the men what had happened; how the stranger had saved them when they seemed hopelessly lost.

Before they left for home, one of the men said, “Look at this.” He had discovered a small box containing scraps of paper and other items. After a few minutes of examining the contents, the mystery surrounding the red-bearded stranger was solved. A newspaper clipping and handful of medals told of a man who had been a hero in the last war. Another clipping and faded picture indicated that he had been married, raised a family, but lost his wife and children to a plague-like disease which had swept through his hometown while he was away. He had retreated into the forest to live alone with his grief. “Are they all right?” Standing there, filling up the entire doorway, was the hermit with an armful of wood.

A special service was held that Christmas Eve in a packed church. The front pew was occupied by Hans, Willy and Marie, and their families along with the hermit, a large black dog at his feet. The pastor’s sermon referenced the phrase “Judge not lest ye be judged.” He reminded the villagers that their inability to understand that simple passage contributed to the hermit’s endless agony. He went on to say that while the exchanging of gifts, as demonstrated by the three Magi, was an important part of Christmas, more important was for us to give friendship and compassion to others.

The pastor’s words did not fall on deaf ears. At the end of the service, after many apologies, the congregation welcomed the old veteran into their community. And he accepted. To remind everyone in the future of the importance of friendship and compassion, a lit candle was to be placed on a window sill in every house during the holiday season. And so another Christmas tradition was born.