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On my daily runs in the neighboring hills, I once noticed smoke coming out of a chimney. And sure enough, there in the hillside lay a shabby cottage hidden from view. A couple of times I glimpsed a woman silhouette there. How miserable these folks must be in winter, I thought. And, much later, on Christmas Day that year, I took a bottle of good wine and a pouch of tobacco and went for a visit. The cabin was nestled in snow but looked abandoned, not a soul anywhere, not a sign of life except for rags hanging on a clothesline. Only the improvised Christmas dinner table laid outside and sodden from the day's drizzle hinted at human presence... A little later a woman figure appeared. Two little puppies frolicking around her were eyeing me with an alert expectation. But sure enough, they wolfed down the treats I produced from my pocket. The woman said she knew me, as I pass them by on my runs uphill. I wished her a Merry Christmas and gave her the wine and the tobacco and was delighted to see her eyes water at both. Then she apologized for her partner, František, not having come out of the cabin. He suffered severe frostbites recently and was desperately trying to recover. We shook hands and parted. Long into the night, I still could see the figure emerging from the shrub, the trembling frail hand and then the eyes wet with gratitude. Perhaps for the first time I truly understood the lyrics of a song called There by the Grace of God...
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