At minus 40 degrees it is so cold that spittle will freeze before it hits the ground. On this bitterly cold December night in 1930, Christmas was only days away, but for most of the 217 people living in the small Mennonite village of Shumanovka, near the Amur River in Eastern Siberia, another preoccupation was overshadowing their Advent preparations – it was their hope to finally escape their persecution and suffering in Russia. Since the community had settled there three  years earlier, with promises of peace and freedom, Stalin’s reign of terror had begun and they were under constant pressure to renounce their faith and collectivize their farms. The secret police regularly visited my grandpa, a minister in the community. The conversations always came down to their faith and their Bibles which they would have to abandon if they wanted peace and freedom.

The people looked with longing at the Blue Mountains across the Amur River in China. They prayed that God might grant them the freedom they were sure must be found beyond those mountains. Was there a way of escape across the heavily guarded border with China? How could a whole village get past the Soviet guards who were constantly patrolling on horseback? The village leaders devised a daring plan that they prayed would take them across the frozen Amur River and beyond those mountains to freedom.

My 26 year old Uncle Isaak and another young village leader had secretly accompanied some travelling Chinese merchants into China and made arrangements for a risky escape attempt. They had returned with two Chinese guides whom they had hidden in Uncle Isaak’s cellar for a week, waiting for the right moment to act. A neighbouring village wanted to join the escape, but they were not quite ready to leave. Finally the Chinese guides gave the ultimatum – either launch the plan, or they would have to go back home.

At 10 years old, my mother Anna, the much loved youngest in a family of eight siblings, was blissfully unaware of the unfolding drama.  She was sound asleep, secure in the love of her doting parents and siblings. In another home nearby my dad Abram, at 12 years of age was much more aware and involved. As one of the older children in his family, he would be driving one of the 56 horse drawn sleds that night. Tension was in the air. Faces were drawn and focused, as all over the village people scurried about. Conversations were short and crisp as the men checked to make sure their horses were well fed and the sleighs in good repair. The women quietly gathered warm clothes and blankets and packed food for the impending journey. Finally the word was given – “be ready in 15 minutes.” Everyone bundled up in their warmest clothes. Sleighs were packed with the few belongings they could take and the children who were too small to walk, bundled tight against the bitter cold and to muffle any crying.

All night the convoy of heavily loaded horse drawn sleds trudged across the open fields through meter high snow toward the river. Each driver took his turn to break a trail for the others. They prayed that the Soviet guards patrolling the border would not see them. In spite of delays caused by some broken sleds, they made it across the Amur River. They knew that Soviet guards were patrolling the border, but saw none all night. When the sun rose and the fog cleared, they looked back across the river and saw the Soviet guards on the other side, but now they were safely in China. What was it that kept the guards away all night? They thanked God for the fog. Was that what had shielded them from view? That was what I always assumed from the way my dad told the story. It reminded me of the exodus from Egypt with God’s people being protected by a pillar of cloud. But in that story there was also a pillar of fire. I never heard my parents tell about a pillar of fire in their story.

Then about a dozen years ago one of the men from the group that escaped happened to meet a man from the village that had not been ready to go. Their conversation quickly turned to the miraculous escape that Christmas of 1930. When the man who had escaped marveled at their success, the one who had been left behind said, “Oh, but let me tell you the rest of the story.”

“Soon after that night, I ended up in prison on the Soviet side. There I struck up a conversation with one of the guards. We talked about the escape. I expressed amazement that the guards had not intercepted the fleeing villagers. They must have seen them.

“Of course we saw them,” said the guard, “I was on duty that night, and I watched all night as they fled. Many other guards also saw them go. We tried all night to get to them and stop them but there was fiery cavalry between us and them who would not let us pass.”

Yes, the people that walked in darkness saw a great light because as Isaiah said so long ago:

A child is born to us! A son is given to us!

And he will be our ruler.

He will be called, “Wonderful Counselor,”

“Mighty God,” “Eternal Father,” “Prince of Peace.”

His royal power will continue to grow;

his kingdom will always be at peace.

He will rule as King David's successor,

basing his power on right and justice,

from now until the end of time.

The Lord Almighty is determined to do all this.

For a year, the Chinese people provided a home for the refugees in the city of Harbin as they sought asylum in Canada. But with Canada in the grip of the great depression those hopes were dashed. Finally they were offered land in one of the most inhospitable regions of Paraguay. In spite of the hardship and suffering they experienced in their early years there, they always remembered their Christmas miracle and thanked God for the opportunity to live out their faith in peace and freedom.

Story told by Hart Wiens