Christmastime

 Today is my first snow day of the season.  The snow is absolutely beautiful outside, and if I'm even near a window I can feel just how cold it is outside.  I've also realized just how close Christmas is.  12 days. 

This year, understandably, I'm really finding it hard to get into the Christmas mood.  I'm not going to share my exact feelings with you, because honestly it's hard to put them to words.  There are very few people I can talk to about how I'm really feeling, but even then I can't really put it to words.  But the more I've thought about Christmas this year, the more I keep thinking about a short piece I wrote two years ago.  I think I shared it on this blog before, but I'll post it again.

"The First Snow"

The snow started falling in blissful patterns. Lightly then harshly. Flakes then puffs. As I walked outside I could feel the chill of the morning creep upon me. I could see the puffs of my breath. Winter was here and along with it came the first snow fall of the season. I bundled my coat tighter and rubbed my hands together forcing more circulation into them. I got into my car and turned the heat on high. As I drove off to work the sun's bashful beams came timidly from behind a cloud that looked as though it was made up from thousands upon thousands of the purest snowflakes.

By the time that I had reached my office the snow was glistening with the sun upon it. I was awestruck by

this. All I could do was stare out my office window.

That was when I realized it. The snow was so peaceful compared to this chaotic world. In a world where wars rage and people fight, where people die at the hands of their peers, where we lose dears ones to diseases with no cure, where children's parents neglect them so much they must beg for food, where people, good people, lose their jobs because the company can't afford to pay them anymore. And then there's snow.

The snow comes and goes as it pleases. It doesn't need worry about the little things the we humans do everyday. It's blissfully happy as it is. There was a time, I'm sure of it, when we were, too, like the snow. Maybe centuries ago, but what changed? What happened to make us like we are now? Blood thirsty, power seeking, money greedy, people? Not that all of us are that way, of course.


So what does the snow represent to me? It represents hope that one day we will return to being like the snow and all wars will end along with all fights. Maybe one day we need not fret over the little things and rejoice over the important things.


Why do I feel this way?

Because snow brightens our world.

Maybe one day we will be snow.

Now, more than ever the snow makes me think.  I can't tell you exactly why, but it does.  It makes me think about those I've lost and those I still have.  It makes me think about how quickly life goes by - and how unfair that sometimes is. 

I wrote something the other day.  Lately I haven't been sharing things that I write because a lot of it is really personal and doesn't really make much sense to the outside world.  However, I would like to share this one.

I wrote this Thursday and Friday.  This poem isn't really about Jimmy, because Jim wasn't due home for Christmas this year.  However, a lot of the feelings and things are based off of how I felt about Jim and his job before, and how I dealt with it after and also how I see things, a bit.

"I'll Be Home for Christmas"

I’ll be home for Christmas,

He tells them,
But he knows he might not make it
Until then.
Cause where he’s at.
Every breath is a gift,
But the worry they’ll never fully know
Is a weight he can lift.


So he tells them he’s safe,
And they’ve got nothing to worry about.
But he knows what goes through their minds,
That he’s the one thing they can’t live without.
They believe him,

It’s better than the reality

And the possibilities they’ll never let be real

‘Cause everyday he sees fatality.

He does his job,

Tries to ignore the uncertainty.

Does what he’s told

He does it so determinedly.

But one day his family’s

Worst fears come true.

Never again will they see his smile or
His eyes so blue.


A soldier,
Always true to his word,
Was home for Christmas, a half-mast flag
Flying free like a bird –
Because of his sacrifice
And the so many before him.
It sucks that it happens,
But it makes the future less dim.


He came home for Christmas,
Just not the way they prayed.
A flag drapes his coffin, a community cries,
As to rest he is laid.
They know he believed in what he did,
But that doesn’t heal the pain of a broken heart.
They watch as he is honored and saluted and
Each three shots stab them in the heart just like a dart.


The news talks about a hometown hero
And they know that’s exactly what he is.
They feel their pride for him, warm, deep inside them,
But they know the true honor was all his.
He didn’t see it that way,
And they could only see him as the boy they always knew.
Not as a veteran, but someone who is always honest and so
This Christmas, like always, they know to his word he stayed true.


They feel him near everyday,

Although he’s nowhere to be found,

But they know he’s still here,

They hear and feel him all around.

They know he’ll never leave them,

Nor will he abandon the fight.

He’s not one to ever give up

No matter how ugly the sight.

They know too well the cost of freedom because of

The soldier they will always hold dear.

They know he served to protect them, and

In the whisper of the wind they hear:

“I came home for Christmas,

Just like I promised to.”

And with each American Flag that waves, they hear him say,

“I’m still defending you.”