The Heart of a Community

By Paula Meyer

In the country, community is a loosely defined term that starts with family, and tends to spread itself around through a network of marriages, friendships and other relationships.

~Marsha Bolton

My cousin Rosaire Desrosiers was a young man when he and his wife Alice left their farm in Ste. Anne Manitoba, for a day of Christmas shopping in Winnipeg. With confidence and smiling faces, they kissed their six children goodbye that November afternoon in 1954 as they left Rosaire's fourteen-year-old cousin Simone in charge.

Late in the day, Simone busied herself with the evening meal, preparing a rather elaborate spread while the children watched and played. As she worked, the wind whistled through holes in the walls where insulation should have been. But the children didn't mind.... this was their home, a place where the family celebrated life with laughter.

As they finished their supper that evening, the lights went out with a deafening bang. Louis, the eldest at eight, went off in search of a flashlight to further investigate the problem. As he fumbled around the closet, he found it odd that something resembling a pair of cat's eyes was being reflected off the ceiling.

Simone realized in an instant what those reflections were. Without hesitating, she wrapped the baby in a blanket and yelled for the other children to get outside quickly. The roof of the house was already engulfed in flames. With snow on the ground and no shoes on their feet, Simone hurried the children to her parents' farm fifteen minutes away, carrying the baby in her skirt to keep her warm. Turning only once, she shuddered as the house disintegrated entirely in flames. What a close call, she realised with a breath of relief. At least she had got all six children to safety.

When Rosaire and Alice returned that night, they went into shock when they found their home in smoking ruins. Although they thanked God and Simone countless times for their children's safety, both Rosaire and Alice knew that difficult times lay ahead. All that they had ever owned was lost. With little insurance to rebuild, Rosaire despaired at the apparently hopeless situation. He and Alice found little to laugh about now.

Realising they had nowhere to go, Rosaire's father, Magloire, gladly opened his doors to his son's family. The children adored their pépère. Although it was a temporary solution, Rosaire knew that his young brood would benefit from the attention lavished on them by their grandfather.

Yet, even with Magloire's assistance, Rosaire was desperately in need of money. The recently purchased Christmas gifts were returned and the small insurance policy cashed. Even then he knew there was not enough to rebuild, and was resigned to renting a home.

Then, Johnny Goosen, an old school friend, came over to chat. Johnny's solution was simple: "You buy what material you can, Rosaire, and we'll all help you rebuild."

As the lumber began to arrive, so did the truckloads of people wanting to help. One truck after another showed up with family, friends and neighbours; people from both French and Mennonite communities. Together they worked in the cold and snow to build the Desrosiers a new house.

When one job was completed, Johnny Goosen would put in a word at his church for someone specialising in another trade. Sure enough, the next morning, a plumber or electrician would appear.

With Christmas only one week away, the work was suddenly finished and the Desrosiers were finally home!

As the last of the workers left, Rosaire and Alice sat back in amazement in their new kitchen. So much had happened in the last two months, and they were so grateful. But, having spent all they had on building materials, they had no money left for gifts to put under the tree.

Even after all they had been through, Rosaire and Alice still did not want Christmas morning to be a disappointment for their children. They decided to share with their children the joy that they felt from the generosity of all their friends and neighbours. Each night they worked feverishly, using imagination and leftover pieces of wood to build a dollhouse, a wooden horse, and other beautiful gifts. They were determined that Santa would come to their home after all.

Unbeknownst to them, their son Denis was watching. He would position himself nightly at the top of the stairs and watch the two elves at their secret work. And then suddenly, with two days left before Christmas, Rosaire and Alice stopped their craft, leaving some projects incomplete. This mystified Denis, but he didn't dare ask why.

On Christmas morning the children awoke to a tree magically laden with beautiful gifts and sweets. Denis noticed that many of the gifts had not been part of their parents' workshop, and quietly wondered where they had come from. Rosaire and Alice decided to keep the secret safe for the time being, as they watched their children's overwhelming joy.

It was only years later that Rosaire finally told Denis and the others the secret about that day, his eyes brimming with tears. Two days before Christmas, the local parish priest Father Laplante had arrived as an emissary. Apparently, the community's generosity had not stopped with the building of the house. They had also collected enough gifts to ensure that the Desrosiers children had all their Christmas dreams fulfilled. And so the late night work had stopped.

Good to his word, on Christmas Eve, Father Laplante had arrived at their door with satchels of presents contributed by the many well wishing families and friends.

Years later, as Uncle Rosaire reflected back on the events that transpired that cold winter of 1953, he was still moved to tears when he remembered Simone, who is my mother, Johnny Goosen, and the countless others who gave so selflessly. The Desrosiers found great joy that year, not because the people gave with their money, but because they gave with their hearts.

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