A Soldier's Christmas

This has circulated around the Internet for a couple of years now. It still serves as a reminder of how blessed that, we as Americans, One Nation Under GOD!, truly are.


The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.


The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.


The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear..
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.


Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.


"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..


To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.


No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.


I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.


I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.."


"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."


Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

My Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Viet Nam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art.

The young man held out his package. "I know this isn't much. "I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."

The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture.

"Oh, no sir. I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son.

The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"

There was silence. Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings! Skip this one!"

But the auctioneer persisted. "Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"

Another voice shouted angrily, "We didn't come to see this painting! We came to see the Van Gogh's, the Rembrandt's! Get on with the real bids!"

But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

"We have $10, who will bid $20?"

"Give it to him for $10! Let's see the masters!"

"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"

A man sitting in the second row shouted, "Now, let's get on with the collection!"

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."

"What about the paintings?"

"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets every thing!"

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is, "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT'S LOVE

http://www.snopes.com/glurge/son.asp

McNaughton’s "One Nation Under God”

One Nation Under God

Too Busy?!

This came to me in the form of one of those "must forward" emails... which I rarely do. Several months later... here it is. You'll notice that it is much more timely now, than when I received it.

Satan called a worldwide convention of demons.

In his opening address he said,
"We can't keep Christians from going to church."

"We can't keep them from reading their Bibles and knowing the truth...."

"We can't even keep them from forming an intimate relationship with
Their SAVIOR."

"Once they gain that connection with JESUS, our power over them is Broken."

"So let them go to their churches; let them have their covered dish dinners,
BUT steal their time, so they don't have time to develop a relationship
With JESUS CHRIST.."

"This is what I want you to do," said the devil:

"Distract them from gaining hold of their SAVIOR and maintaining that
Vital connection throughout their day!"

"How shall we do this?" his demons shouted.

"Keep them busy in the non-essentials of life and invent innumerable Schemes to occupy their minds," he answered...

"Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, and borrow, borrow, borrow."

"Persuade the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to
work 6-7 days each week, 10-12 hours a day, so they can afford their empty
Lifestyles."

"Keep them from spending time with their children."

"As their families fragment, soon, their homes will offer no escape from
The pressures of work!"

"Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still, small
voice."

"Entice them to play the radio or I-Pod whenever they drive." To
Keep the TV, DVDs, CDs and their PCs going constantly in their home and see
To it that every store and restaurant in the world plays non-biblical music
Constantly."

"This will jam their minds and break that union with CHRIST."

"Fill the coffee tables with magazines and newspapers."

"Pound their minds with the news 24 hours a day."

"Invade their driving moments with billboards."

"Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, mail order catalogs, sweepstakes, and
Every kind of newsletter and promotional offering free products, services
And false hopes."

"Keep skinny, beautiful models on the magazines and TV so their husbands
Will believe that outward beauty is what's important, and they'll
Become dissatisfied with their wives. "

"Keep the wives too tired to love their husbands at night."

"Give them headaches too! "

"If they don't give their husbands the love they need, they will begin to
Look elsewhere."

"That will fragment their families quickly!"

"Give them Santa Claus to distract them from teaching their children the
Real meaning of Christmas."

"Give them an Easter bunny so they won't talk about HIS resurrection
And power over sin and death..."

"Even in their recreation, let them be excessive."

"Have them return from their recreation exhausted."

"Keep them too busy to go out in nature and reflect on GOD'S creation.
Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, plays, concerts, and movies
Instead."

"Keep them busy, busy, busy!"

"And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and
Small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences."

"Crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek
Power from JESUS."

"Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing their health
And family for the good of the cause."

"It will work!"

"It will work!"

It was quite a plan!

The demons went eagerly to their assignments causing Christians everywhere
To get busier & more rushed, going here & there.

Having little time for their GOD or their families.

Having no time to tell others about the power of JESUS to change lives.

I guess the question is, has the devil been successful in his schemes?

You be the judge!!!!!

Does "BUSY" mean: B-eing U-nder S-atan's Y-oke?

THE OLD PATHS

This may be a little sentimental for some and perhaps even a little offensive for others. It has been adapted from an email sent to me by my dad. It certainly represents his generation, but I too am old enough to remember that this IS the way that things were... for the most part.

Kind of reminds me of The End of The Innocence by Don Henley.

I wish the old paths were before us instead of behind us.

THE OLD PATHS

I liked the old paths, when
Moms were
at home.
Dads were at work.
Brothers went into the army.

And sisters got married BEFORE having children!

Crime did not
pay;
Hard work did;
And people knew the difference.


Moms could cook;
Dads would work;
Children would behave.


Husbands were loving;
Wives were supportive;
And children
were polite.

Women wore the jewelry;
And Men wore the pants.


Women looked like ladies;
Men looked like gentlemen;

And children looked decent.

People loved the truth,
And
hated a lie.

They came to church to get IN,
Not to get OUT!


Hymns sounded Godly;
Sermons sounded helpful;
Rejoicing
sounded normal;
And crying sounded sincere.

Cursing was
wicked;
Drugs were for illness;
And divorce was unthinkable.


The flag was honored;
America was beautiful;
And God
was welcome!

We read the Bible in public;
Prayed in school;

And preached from house to house..

To be called an American
was worth dying for;
To be called an American was worth living for;

To be called a traitor was a shame!


I still like the
old paths the best!


'The Old Paths' was written by a retired minister who lives In Tennessee.