The children awoke the day before Christmas behind blast walls and armed guards, in a dingy Syrian Catholic schoolhouse strung with clotheslines. Their families have been cooking on hot plates and sleeping on pallets there in recent months, forced from their homes in northern Iraq by Islamic State militants.
They took turns showering in the communal bathroom, dressed in donated clothes and prepared to meet Santa.
This year, there would be no big holiday parties at Our Lady of Salvation, a local landmark topped by a towering cross that's visible for miles. Christians are leaving Iraq, the population down from more than 1 million a decade ago to about 350,000, many of them displaced.
In the north, Islamic State fighters have forced thousands to flee. In Baghdad, where the security situation is still so tenuous that priests worried that celebrations could provoke an attack. Last Christmas, three bombings targeted Christians, including a Roman Catholic church, and killed 38 people.
Shortly before the 6 p.m. Christmas Eve service, the children and their families filed out of the school past concrete barriers topped with barbed wire and into the packed church for several hours of singing and prayer, the highlight of their day, hoping the strangers they met meant them no harm.
"The guards and blocks can't do anything if something is about to happen," the Rev. Nabil Yako said.
Four years ago, suicide bombers walked into the church and took the assembled hostage, ultimately killing 58 people, including two priests. The church remained open afterward, but many parishioners fled to other parts of Iraq and overseas. Fewer than half of the 500 members remain.
Only a few who survived the attack stayed, including the man who made the nativity scene and would play Santa after the service.
Samir Bassem, 9, wearing a donated blue track suit and a large metal cross, planned to ask Santa for a toy car a Ferrari. Chaeen Bassem, 7, wanted a motorcycle. Fullah Falah, 9, her curly hair freshly washed and corralled into a bun, wanted a red dress.
Their parents had no gifts this year. They had fled the northern city of Mosul after their homes were marked with an Arabic "N" for nasrani, or Christian, and seized by Islamic State during the summer. Homeless and unemployed, they shared the same Christmas wish.
Original post:
In Iraq, displaced Christians gather for a somber Christmas