SOLDIERS CHRISTMAS GIFT!
'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone. I had come down the chimney with presents to give And to see whom in this home did live.
I looked all about. A strange sight I did see. No Tinsel. No presents. Not even a tree. No stocking by the mantle just boots filled with sand. On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds, A sober thought came through my mind. For this house was different. It was dark and dreary, I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone, Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home. The face was gentle, the room in such disorder, not how I pictured a United States Soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read? Curled up on a poncho, the floor for his bed? I realized the families that I saw this night, owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play, and grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day. They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here,
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone, on a Christmas Eve in a land so far from home. The very thought brought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice, "Santa don't cry. This life is my choice, I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more. My life is my God, my country, my regiment."
The soldier rolled over and drifted off to sleep, I couldn't control it, I continued to weep. I kept watch for hours, so silent and still, and we both shivered from the cold night's chill. I didn't want to leave on that cold dark night. This Guardian of Honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, Whispered, "Carry on Santa, It's Christmas day, all is secure." One look at my watch and I knew he was right. "Merry Christmas my friend... and to all a good night.
A Different Kind of Christmas
I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
And looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn't finished and the car I had to fix,
My stocks were down another point, the Dolphins lost by six.
And so with only minutes till my son got home from school
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
And so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.
I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
Eight Hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens.
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
Their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.
Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.
They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn't need an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn't have a present even though it was tradition,
The only boxes I could see were labeled "ammunition."
I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near
And kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.
There's nothing wrong my little son, for safe we sleep tonight,
Our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,
To worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all,
Instead of wondering if we will be the next one to fall.
He looked at me as children do and said it's always right,
To thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
To thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote:
God Bless You all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and that you are not alone.
The gift you give you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can't repay.
Thank you from a grateful America!
Thank you, God for our liberty and may we never take it for granted!
by Barb Servello
Your Friend Andy
Doing Things Better