As you join with family and friends this Christmas season, think about the American servicemen and women who can't be with their loved ones this year.  Many will spend Christmas on a lonely outpost in the snowy, wind-swept mountains of Afghanistan, or locked down on a small Log Base in Iraq---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

T’was 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 had 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 disorder.  Not how I pictured, a true American 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 are 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 and my god, my country, my Army...."

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 did not 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, its Christmas day, all is secure."

One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.  "Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a goodnight!"