Solider's Silent Night

****Today's post is dedicated to Alan McClendon and all troops active and non-active how have served and are serving this Christmas Season****

This morning as usual for this time of year the kids and I were listening to Christmas music on a local radio station. When an unusual Silent Night came on that really touch not only my heart but the hearts of my children and left us all in tears. You see my brother-in-law is serving our country now in Iraq. He is a special part of our family and the one how introduce Michael and I being he was my friend first. We all love and miss him dearly and are praying daily for his safe return. I was not able to put in a link but if you google "SOLIDERS SILENT NIGHT BY TED BERNDT" you can find it to actually listen to! It is wonderful.

This poem was written by Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt in 1986. It was recorded by Father Ted Berndt of Bread of Life Charismatic Episcopal Church in Dousman, Wisconsin, who was also a Marine and WWII Purple Heart recipient.



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,

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 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 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 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 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, ALL IS SECURE.”

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH, AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.”