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A Soldier's Christmas Story
A soldier nervously finders his weapon and stares into the darkness watching for any sign of the enemy. He is alone this night because yesterday his best friend, who usually shared this position with him, was killed. He misses him, he was a brave man who left a wife and two small children behind. The soldier hopes that he will survive this war and someday be able to tell the little ones how bravely their father had died defending freedom.
He doesn't know exactly what time it is but his instincts tell him that it is approaching midnight on this Christmas Eve. Soon it will be Christmas morning at home and his own family will be getting up to have breakfast and open presents. His breakfast will consist of some cold sparse rations and a sip of water from his canteen. There will be no hot cider or coffee for him and no turkey dinner later in the day.
He hopes his family enjoys the Christmas celebration and understands why he can't be with them. There are people in the world that would destroy the things he is fighting to defend, and he faces them this night. He would rather be home, but this is his choice and his responsibility. He hopes his countrymen appreciate what he is doing, but sometimes he wonders. Then he tells himself that it doesn't matter, he would be here anyway.
The soldier takes a moment to reach out and gently touch the Christmas tree he and his buddy had set up shortly before he died. It's not really a tree at all, just a branch that had been blown off a real tree by an artillery shell. They had dug a hole in the hard ground and set it up. Of course, they had no tinsel or ornaments so they decorated it with empty cartridge shells and hoped that the Lord would understand. It was the only way they had to honor his birth.
By now, you may be wondering what place this is and who this soldier fights for. He is an American soldier and the name of the place doesn't matter. It could be Valley Forge, Northern Virginia, the Ardennes, the Chosin Reservoir, the Mekong Delta, or somewhere near Kabul or Baghdad. For over 200 years, there have been American soldiers far away from home every Christmas watching our backs. Today they are of both genders and many races and religions.
On this Christmas Eve, the soldier quietly hums Silent Night and again wonders if anybody really cares. The he hears a voice from the darkness. It is a soothing and pleasant voice and admonishes him gently for his doubts. "I was born on this night to bring my Father's word to the world." says the voice. "My Father is called by many different names and worshiped by many people in different ways, but you are still his protector. You guard the right to believe and you are not alone. WELL DONE AMERICAN SOLDIER!"
