Dec 25, 2005 01:18
"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 just who 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 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 so 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 a 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 grownups 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 cold Christmas Eve in a land 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 Corps.”
The soldier rolled over and drifted 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 Marine wrote this poem. The following is his request. I think it is reasonable...
PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. Please, do your small part to plant this small seed."
-Author unknown-
No matter what you think of our government, no matter what rights you believe you do or don't have, or how bad you think you have it here, know that there are places in this world where you would have it much much worse.
The society you live in, the freedoms you enjoy, the chances you have here that you may or may not take were all bought and paid for with the flesh and blood of men and women dating back to the revolutionary war, and continuing to the present day. Their lives freely given, with the full knowledge that they may not survive to enjoy the freedoms they have sacrificed so much for.
So Always remember: We play in the garden of freedom, because they stand watch at the gates.
To my friends, family, and to all the men and women serving in the U.S. armed forces here and abroad, Happy Holidays, Joyous Yule, and Safe Journeys.
To all those who have gone before, making today possible, Thank you and we will never forget.
-C-