Dear
All
The poem/link below was sent
to me from a work colleague. It has done the rounds before but please
consider forwarding this to all your contacts, to raise awareness of Help for
Heroes and all the Service Men and Women serving abroad and away from their
families and loved ones this Christmas. Thanks.
IT'S
CHRISTMAS DAY ALL IS SECURE
IT 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 THE 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 LONE BRITISH SOLDIER
WAS THIS THE
HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ
CURLED UP ON
A PONCHO THE FLOOR FOR A BED
I REALISED
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
ENJOY FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR
BECAUSE OF
THE SOLDIERS LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE
I COULDN'T
HELP WONDER HOW MANY ALONE
ON A COLD
CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME
THE VERY
THOUGH 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
SAT AND SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHTS CHILL
I DIDN'T
WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD DARK NIGHT
THIS
GUARDIAN OF HONOUR 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 GOOD NIGHT'
WHAT
HAPPENS IN HEAVEN
This is one of the nicest e-mails I have seen and is so true:
I dreamt that I went to Heaven and an angel was showing me around.
We walked side-by-side inside a large workroom filled with angels.
My angel guide stopped in front of the first section and said, "This is
the
Receiving Section. Here, all petitions to God said in prayer are
received."
I looked around in this area, and it was terribly busy with so many angels
sorting out petitions written on voluminous paper sheets and scraps from
people all over the world.
Then we moved on down a long corridor until we reached the second section.
The angel then said to me, "This is the Packaging and Delivery Section.
Here, the graces and blessings the people asked for are processed and
delivered to the living persons who asked for them."
I noticed again how busy it was there. There were many angels working hard
at that station, since so many blessings had been requested and were being
packaged for delivery to Earth.
Finally at the farthest end of the long corridor we stopped at the door of a
very small station. To my great surprise, only one angel was seated there,
idly doing nothing. "This is the Acknowledgment Section," and my
angel
friend quietly admitted to me. He seemed embarrassed. "How is it that
there
is no work going on here?" I asked. "So sad," the angel sighed.
"After
people receive the blessings that they asked for, very few send back
acknowledgments."
"How does one acknowledge God's blessings?" I asked.
"Simple," the angel answered. Just say, "Thank You, Lord."
"What blessings should they acknowledge?" I asked.
"If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof
overhead
and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of this world. If you have
money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish, you are among
the top 8% of the world's wealthy "
"And if you get this on your own computer, you are part of the 1% in the
world who has that opportunity."
"Also.....If you woke up this morning with more health than illness you
are
more blessed than the many who will not even survive this day!"
"If you have never experienced the fear in battle, the loneliness of
imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation you are ahead
of 700 million people in the world."
"If you can attend a church without the fear of harassment, arrest,
torture
or death you are envied by, and more blessed than, three billion people in
the world "
"If your parents are still alive and still married you are very rare
"
"If you can hold your head up and smile, you are not the norm. You're
unique to all those in doubt and despair."
Ok, what now? How can I start?
If you can read this message, you just received a double blessing in that
someone was thinking of you as very special and you are more blessed than
over two billion people in the world who cannot read at all.
Have a good day, count your blessings, and if you want, pass this along to
remind everyone else how blessed we all are.
ATTN:
Acknowledge Dept.: "Thank You, Lord, for giving me the ability to share
this
message and for giving me so many wonderful people to share it with."
THE YELLOW SHIRT
The yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large
pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the
front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in
1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags
of clothes Mom intended to give
away. 'You're not taking that old
thing, are you?' Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. 'I
wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!'
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
'It's just
the thing to wear over my clothes during art class,
Mom. Thanks!' I slipped it
into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt be came a part of my
college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I
moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
The next year, I
married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I
missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in
Illinois But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn
it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.
>>
>>
>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
That Christmas,
mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in
holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her 'real'
gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it
again.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
The next year, my
husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some .
Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its
bottom. The shirt!
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
And so the pattern
was set.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>
>>
>>
On our next visit
home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and
Dad's mattress. I don't know how
long it took for her to find it, but
almost two years passed before I
discovered it under the base of our
living-room floor lamp. The yellow
shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut
stains added character.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
In 1975 my husband
and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois .
As I packed, a deep depression
overtook me. I wondered if I could make
it on my own.. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through
the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, 'So use every piece
of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all
over, you will be standing up.'
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
I tried to picture
myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the
stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it
dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's
love a piece of God's armor? My courage
was renewed.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>
>>
>>
>>
Unpacking in our
new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to
Mother. The next time I visited
her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
Meanwhile, I found
a good job at a radio station. A year later
I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a
rag bag in my cleaning closet.
Something new had
been added. Embroidered in bright green
across the breast pocket were the words 'I
BELONG TO PAT.'
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
Not to be outdone,
I got out my own embroidery materials and
added an apostrophe and seven more letters.
Now the shirt proudly
proclaimed, 'I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER.' But I
didn't stop there. I zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the
shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington , VA. We enclosed an
official looking
letter from 'The Institute for the Destitute,'
announcing that she was the recipient of
an award for good deeds. I
would have given anything to see Mom's face
when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
Two years later, in
1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding,
Harold and I put our car in a friend's
garage to avoid practical
jokers. After the wedding, while my husband
drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest
my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in
wedding paper, the yellow shirt.
Inside a pocket was a note: 'Read
John 14:27-29. I love you both,
Mother.'
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
That night I paged
through the Bible in a hotel room and found
the verses: 'I am leaving you with a
gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the
peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what
I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you
really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who
is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so
that when they do, you will believe in me.'
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
The shirt was
Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal
Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the
following year at age 57.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
I was tempted to
send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But
I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid
reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years.
Besides, my older daughter is in
college now, majoring in art.
And every
art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.
|