T'was a Night Before Christmas...

I forgot to mention in my last email today - please remember that there are many troops out there who are out of the wire and really on the front lines tonight.  I am fortunate to be able to head off to Holy Mass in a little while.  As I am missing home quite a bit right now, I can imagine how much they are - especially in the rugged outposts they are at.    This poem below usually surfaces at Christmas time - emerging in various versions with differing amendments made to it.  Anyhow - it helps us to remember that Christmas Eve is not the same for everyone, everywhere.    I have witnessed the tireless Chaplains going through much to try to get out to minister to the troops for Christmas.  Out there they celebrate Holy Mass for them out of a Mass kit stored in a rucksack.  Please keep in mind our chaplains who work so hard, so that they may continue to do their work effectively - especially under the circumstances.   Also - we must not forget to pray for the Insurgents and those who misunderstand our Faith.  May they see the light and feel the peace that only Our Lord may bring - especially as the gentle, defenceless, and lovable Infant Jesus.  May we as Christians be known by our love, and may we all one day experience true peace in our world with all peoples under our one common God we share.   Anyhow - here is a version of the poem.  I take no credit for it, and I thank the person who wrote it and wished to remain anonymous.  I think that person wanted for all of us to remember the troops deployed.  Merry and Holy Christmas everyone!     T'was a Night Before Christmas (Author Unknown)   'Twas the night before Christmas, He lived all alone, In a one soldier hooch made of Sandbag and stone. I had come down the trackplan With presents to give, And to see just who In this hooch 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 post hung pictures Of Home in a far distant land. With medals and badges, Awards of all kinds, A sober thought Came through my mind. For this space was different, It was dark and dreary, I found the hooch of a soldier, Once I could see clearly. The soldier lay sleeping, Silent, alone, Curled up on the ground and chilled to the bone. His face was so gentle, The space in such order, Not how I pictured A typical soldier. Was this the hero Of whom I'd just read? Curled up on a poncho, The ground 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, and 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 and All is secure." One look at my watch, And I knew he was right. "Merry Christmas, my friend, And to all a good night."