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”