Diana Pena, 30, Greystanes, NSW
Watching my sons, Sebastian, 10, Christian, nine, and Juan, two, opening Christmas presents, there was a calm in the room.
'Cool!' Sebastian beamed.
'Thanks Mama,' Christian said.
It wasn't often our household was happy. My husband Fabian, 30, usually thrashed about in a drunken rage, but he left us alone at Christmas.
He hadn't always been that way. I'd been a single mum to Sebastian and Christian when we'd met in 2003. Fabian shared my Argentinean background and was a true gentleman. But when we had Juan a year later, he turned cruel and abusive.
At 28, I'd been living in Australia for 10 years but I'd hardly seen a thing. Fabian demanded I stayed home with the kids while he went to work. It wasn't easy, but it was my life.
Fabian's abuse spiralled out of control and he turned on the kids. I'd had enough. 'Leave them alone!' I bellowed.
'Shut up,' he yelled, raising his fist to me. 'I mean it,' I said, standing my ground.
Fabian was shocked. I'd never stood up to him before. He flew into a rage, cursing me as he threw clothes in a bag.
'I've had it,' he sneered as he stormed out the door. 'See how you like it without me around.'
But I had no intention of following him. I hope you never come back, I thought. I assumed he'd return but a few days later I realised he was gone for good. Suddenly, the kids and I were alone in a country that I barely knew.
Fabian had isolated me so much. My English wasn't very strong, and yet somehow I had to become the breadwinner.
How will I find work? I worried. I need to learn English.
The next day, I signed up for free lessons at the local Spanish church, and the boys helped me practise. But while I was learning, we had no income.
One night, I checked the savings Fabian had stashed away and stared in shock. We didn't even have enough for rent.
Overwhelmed, I collapsed on my bed and wept. My mind filled with images of homeless people scavenging in bins in search of their next meal. I can't put my boys through that, I thought. But it seemed like our future.
My landlord generously said he'd cover the rent for a few weeks until I got back on my feet. I was relieved - but I had to find a job, and fast. Cradling Juan, I walked the shops of Granville, NSW, begging for employment.
While my English wasn't fluent, I could still do jobs that didn't rely on communication, like cleaning or stacking shelves.
'What about your son?' one shopkeeper asked me.
'He can come with me, can't he?' I asked. 'That's ridiculous,' the man laughed. 'I can't have a toddler running around.'
The responses were the same in every shop. Walking home, I felt like a failure. Maybe they're right, I thought. How can I work and look after Juan?
I scraped our savings together for food, but the future was bleak. I couldn't hide my desperation.
'Are you okay?' Sebastian asked, hugging me. 'I'm sorry,' I whispered, a tear running down my cheek.
A week later, the landlord returned. 'Love, I'm afraid I can't afford to lose any more rent,' he said.
'I understand,' I nodded, holding back tears. 'Thank you.'
Inside, I wept hysterically. It was nearly Christmas. I was hoping to get the boys some small gifts, but now I couldn't even put a roof over our heads.
I tried to explain our situation. 'We have to move out,' I sniffed.
'Why?' Sebastian frowned.
'We can't afford it,' I explained.
It broke my heart when they started to cry. 'I don't want to go!' wept Christian. 'I like it here.'
When the real-estate agent and police arrived the next day, the situation became all too real. 'Have you arranged a removalist?' the agent asked.
Our belongings were all we had, but we couldn't take them with us. We had nowhere to put them. 'Leave it,' I said.
'All of it?' the agent asked. 'Yes,' I sniffed.
I put our toothbrushes and one outfit each into a backpack. I plucked some photos from the album and grabbed a blanket.
'Truck?' Juan said, holding up a toy. I shook my head. 'It's too big,' I said, my heart breaking.
Driving away in the police car, I started sobbing. I'd had so many dreams for our future in Australia. I never thought I'd have to consider which public place would be safest to sleep in.
Fortunately, that afternoon, the Housing Commission put us in a motel for a week. Where we'd go after that, I had no idea.
It was December 2006, and Christmas was approaching.
'We won't have a Christmas ever again, will we, Mama?' Sebastian sobbed.
'Maybe I should write to Santa asking for somewhere to live,' Christian suggested.
I tried to stay positive, but I knew celebrating Christmas was almost impossible.
On December 16, 2006, we left the motel and were taken to Wesley Mission's Dalmar House. Inside, families just like ours played happily together.
'Diana?' a woman smiled. 'I'm Mary. Let's sit down for a chat.'
As I explained our situation, Mary nodded sympathetically.
'You can stay here,' she smiled. 'We'll help you find your feet.'
'Thank you so much,' I cried.
Over the next week I was assigned a caseworker and taken to a domestic-violence support group. I began to feel comfortable at Dalmar and things started looking up.
But on Christmas Day, instead of rushing to see what was under the tree, the boys were slumped in their room.
'Merry Christmas, Mum,' they mumbled. 'Cheer up,' I smiled, grateful that we weren't in a gutter somewhere.
In the main hall, the sight was breathtaking. Tinsel formed a rainbow of green, red and gold. Shiny baubles hung from a giant Christmas tree.
'Cool!' the boys breathed. 'It's beautiful,' I said. 'We're so lucky.'
'Merry Christmas!' smiled Mary, handing us presents.
'We can't accept these,' I said. 'You've done so much already.'
But it was too late. The boys were already ripping the paper off their presents. 'Go on,' Mary nudged me. 'You deserve it.'
'Awesome!' the boys beamed, pulling out stationery, school uniforms, clothes, books and toys. I got perfume and make-up.
'Thank you so much,' I wept.
Afterwards, we feasted on barbecued chicken, salads and ice-cream. 'It's a true Aussie Christmas,' I laughed, for the first time in months.
In the New Year, Mary found us a place to live in Greystanes, NSW, and helped me enrol in a hospitality course at TAFE.
'Juan can go to playgroup here while you go to class,' she said.
It felt good having a family home again and over time, I became the confident woman I'd always wanted to be.
I did craft courses and continued my counselling at Dalmar House. Best of all, the boys were safe and able to continue their education.
Today, almost two years since we arrived at Dalmar, we've got a roof over our heads and I'm looking forward to starting work in a restaurant in the New Year.
I'm so grateful to Wesley Mission and I now volunteer in the child-care centre each week.
It's horrible for anyone to be homeless, especially at Christmas, but Wesley Mission didn't just give us a home - they also gave us happiness.
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