A Soldier’s Christmas Eve

I got this poem from a mailing from the Disabled American Veterans. Please take a pause and remember our armed forces who gave us our freedom.

‘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,

and on the wall pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,

a sobering thought came to my mind.

For this house was different, so dark and so dreary,

the home of a soldier, now 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 her.

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 live 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 soon drifted to sleep,

I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep,

I keep watch for hours, so silent and still,

and we both shivered from the cold evening’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.”

By Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays

and a Happy, Healthy New Year to All!

By Rosalinda Morgan, Author of “Saving Wentworth Hall”

THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE

christmas-tree-oyster-bay

I stumbled upon the Legend of the Christmas Tree while going through boxes of old Christmas Cards. 

Today, the Christmas tree is the highlight of our Christmas festivities.  Topped with a star, and adorned with lights and ornaments, it is a part of the beauty and meaning of the Christmas season.

How did the Christmas tree come to play such an important part in the observance of Christmas?  There is a legend that comes down to us from the early days of Christianity in England.

One of those helping to spread Christianity among the Druids was a monk named Wilfred (later Saint Wilfred).  One day, surrounded by a group of his converts, he struck down a huge Oak tree, which, in the Druid religion, was an object of worship.

As the Oak tree fell to the ground, it split into four pieces, and from its center there grew a young Fir tree, pointing a green spire toward the sky.

The crowd gazed in amazement.  Wilfred let his axe drop, and turned to speak.

“This little tree shall be your Holy Tree tonight.  It is the wood of peace, for your houses are built of the Fir.  It is the sign of an endless life, for its leaves are evergreen.  See how it points toward the heaven.  Let this be called the tree of the Christ Child.  Gather about it, not in the wilderness, but in your homes.  There it will be surrounded with loving gifts and rites of kindness.”

And to this day, that is why the Fir Tree is one of our loveliest symbols of Christmas.

WISHING YOU ALL A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

 

Until next time, stop and smell the roses.

Rosalinda R Morgan, “The Rose Lady”

Author & Garden Writer

 

 

 

 

THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE

 

Deck the HallsToday, the Christmas tree is the highlight of our Christmas festivities.  Topped with a star, and adorned with lights and ornaments, it is a part of the beauty and meaning of the Christmas season.

How did the Christmas tree come to play such an important part in the observance of Christmas?  There is a legend that comes down to us from the early days of Christianity in England.

One of those helping to spread Christianity among the Druids was a monk named Wilfred (later Saint Wilfred).  One day, surrounded by a group of his converts, he struck down a huge Oak tree, which, in the Druid religion, was an object of worship.

As the Oak tree fell to the ground, it split into four pieces, and from its center there grew a young Fir tree, pointing a green spire toward the sky.

The crowd gazed in amazement.  Wilfred let his axe drop, and turned to speak.

“This little tree shall be your Holy Tree tonight.  It is the wood of peace, for your houses are built of the Fir.  It is the sign of an endless life, for its leaves are evergreen.  See how it points toward the heaven.  Let this be called the tree of the Christ Child.  Gather about it, not in the wilderness, but in your homes.  There it will be surrounded with loving gifts and rites of kindness.”

And to this day, that is why the Fir Tree is one of our loveliest symbols of Christmas.

WISHING YOU ALL A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

 

Until next time, stop and smell the roses.

Rosalinda

 

Rosalinda Morgan 

Author and Garden Writer

The Iron Butterfly

BAHALA NA (Come What May)

Get your copy today at www.amazon.com/author/rosalindarmorgan.