The Stork

The Stork, she rose on Christmas Eve And said unto her brood, "I now must fare to Bethlehem To view the Son of God." She gave to each his dole of meat, She stowed them fairly in, And fair she flew and fast she flew, And came to Bethlehem. "Now where is He of David's line?" She asked at house and hall, "He is not here," they spake hardly, "But in the manger stall." She found Him in the manger stall With that most holy maid; The gentle Stork, she wept to see The Lord so rudely laid. Then from her panting breast she plucked The feathers white and warm; She strewed them in the manger bed To keep the Lord from harm. Now blessed be the gentle Stork Forever more quoth He, For that she saw my sad estate, And showed pity. Full welcome shall she ever be In hamlet and in hall, And called henceforth the Blessed Bird And friend of babies all. ~ Author Unknown ~ Legend Of The Stork Storks have been revered on Christmas for the exemplary deed of compassion that one of their kind did for infant Jesus. When all the animals came to see infant Jesus, all they could do was remain in awe and bow down to pay respect. However, when the stork arrived, it was pained to see Jesus lying on a hard bed with no pillow. The compassionate bird could not stand the sight and immediately pulled out its feathers to make a soft and comfortable bed for infant Jesus. The stork then went on to pull more of its feathers to make a soft pillow for baby Jesus to place his head on. It is for this reason that the bird stork is held in very high regard during Christmas holiday. It even makes an appearance in baby showers and has universally come to be known as the 'Patron of Babies'. Thanks For Visiting

1 Corinthians 13 Christmas Version

If I decorate my house perfectly with strands of twinkly lights and shiny balls but do not show love to my family, I am just a decorator.

If I slave away in the kitchen baking dozens of Christmas cookies and arranging on a beautifully adorned table but do not share the true meaning of Christmas, I am just another cook.

If I volunteer at a soup kitchen, carol in a nursing home, and donate to charity but do not demonstrate simple kindness to strangers, it profits me nothing.

If I attend holiday parties but do not go to church, I have missed the point.

Love stops cooking to hug a child.

Love sets aside decorating to kiss a spouse.

Love is kind during the holidays though harried and tired.

Love doesn’t envy another’s home that has coordinated Christmas china, perfectly strung outdoor lights, or a flawless tree.

Love doesn’t ask family to get out of the way but is thankful they are in the way.

Love doesn’t give only to those who are able to give in return or those on our lists, but rejoices in giving to those who can’t and those who aren’t.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.

Love never fails, even at Christmas.

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Secrets Of Christmas

"Mr. and Mrs. Claus, © 2005-2007 Susan Comish Gallery I think the happiest time of the year Surely is Christmas with all of it's cheer. Listening to carols as their being sung Hearing sleigh bells as they gaily are rung. Children with innocent eyes, all aglow; All bundled up, to play in the snow. Hoping to see Santa on Christmas night; That jolly old fellow, in crimson and white. Shoppers with packages under their arm Hurrying home where the fire is warm; Hiding the gifts so no one can see; Keeping secrets, trimming the tree. Bows on the puppy; bells on the cat; Grandpa is sporting a red and white hat; Grandma is knitting a holiday vest; All of the children behaving their best. Secrets of Christmas, they think I don't know How Santa gets here, through all of the snow. So I shan't tell them; wont spoil their intentions; But Santa's wife comes along to give him directions!   Toni Britton (The Calico's Mom) Nov. 5, 2001 Thanks For Visiting

A Soldier's Christmas

Somewhere under this same sky, Far away in a foreign land. A dedicated soldier fights, Abiding to military command. Where death is true reality, And his own life is at stake. Fighting there for freedom, For another country's sake. He puts up a brave front, Though he's filled with fear. The face of death that lies before him, Is unbelievably vivid and so clear. Seeing and doing things, That he will never forget. Out of his sense of duty, With his own sanity at threat. Yet with a watchful eye, He loyally stands at guard. His once lively spirit broken, And his soul forever scarred. He has freely chosen this life, And he holds no regret. Stealing along through the night, Is his darkened silhouette. He fights for the freedom of others, With honour and with pride. A volunteer for humanity, Putting his own life aside. Trying to stay alive and safe, In fox holes of sand. As the terrorizing sounds of war, Echo loudly across foreign land. With dirt upon his face, And sometimes little to eat. Where sleep is a luxury, And him so weary and beat. Back at home is his mother Who fears for his life. Not wanting for her son, All the terror, turmoil and strife. On Christmas day at home, There will be an empty chair. One less plate setting, And fingerprint less shining silverware. With her head bowed loyally, His mother will say a prayer. To ask her son to come back home, She knows to him would be unfair. She'll pray for his safety, As well as all the others. Be it someone else's sons and daughters, Fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers. For she knows all too well, Of the heartache, pain and sorrow. Wondering if their loved ones, Will live to see tomorrow. Her heart will be heavily burdened, And sadness will set in. She'll put up a brave face, And she'll manage a lifeless grin. Far away in a foreign land, A soldier's tears silently fall. All the joyous past Christmases, With a heavy heart he does recall. Please Father he prays, Take care of my family and friends. And help them understand, That I'll be home when this war ends. This is where I am needed most, And this is where I must be. So all the men, women and children, Can be safe and live free. I don't know what lies before me, My future is unknown. If I must die I ask Dear Father, Please be there, Don't let me die alone. Elizabeth Ann Bushey November ~ 24 ~ 2006 E-mail Thanks For Visiting

A Soldier's Letter Home

Hello Mom, As things right now are quiet the night air still 'n calm thought I'd write a letter to say hello, I'm fine Ya know, its kinda funny these mem'ries of my mind tiptoeing through the conscience pausing, time to time Remem'bring as a young boy how much I loved the sand but, never once imagining I'd fight on desert lands My friends 'n I would giggle while playing, having fun had not a care, 'nor worry when each day was done Can you recall the teardrops when falls would bruise my knee? 'n how you made things better with all your love for me? Mom, my heart is hurting I wonder will this end? Prayers for peace 'n harmony that differences will mend Looking back, reflecting on times that I could smile trying hard to grasp them now, vacant for awhile Mom, I really miss you the comfort of our home comrades right beside me yet, I feel alone The bloodshed never ending with sands a flowing red numbers keep on rising for all of those now dead Instead of playing cowboys as in the days of yore this fight is real, uncertain everyday, more gore I hear the cries of children their faces looking sad thankful for my childhood the happiness I had The Christmas spirit absent they'll be no loved ones near stopping now, reflecting on laughter, Christmas cheer Imagination leapfrogs to tree lights all aglow stockings on the mantle blankets of white snow How is Dad? my sister? gosh, I miss them too long nights of conversation movies on the tube Can't wait to see the baby my faithful, loving wife soon we'll be together building a new life Yes, home is where my heart is but, I've still a job to do my love of God and country I Pray will see me through Well guess I should get going as morning's drawing near but needed to say, 'I love You' 'tween each salty tear Funny how the yesteryears 'n morrows still unknown make me think, remember wishing I were home.... I love you, Mom Merry Christmas! 2006 Rose Marie Streeter

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Keeping Watch At Christmas

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." Author Michael Marks Thanks For Visiting