Heroes

This poem makes me thankful. It was written by U.S. Marine Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt.

'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.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for 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.”

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.

Holding out for a Hero? I Doubt It...

Ever heard the song Holding Out For A Hero? Of course you have, who hasn't? I found a different version by a new girl... its gentler than the original, all week I've played it over and over until I fall asleep....but I don't think I believe in heroes anymore. They don't exist or at least not for me....and strangely I'm okay with that.

Funny, right? Never thought I'd say I'm okay with being alone but I am. I've just seen too many relationships and marriages in ruins. Too many awful things for me to believe anymore. I've seen too many abusive relationships, too many marriages where people don't love each other anymore...I've watched too many kids lives be messed up because of their parents awful marriage. This world is falling apart and I'm done with it.

I don't believe.

There are no heroes, people aren't good. They're evil. Selfish. Hateful. Spiteful. Liars. Manipulative.

I'm done holding out for a hero... he doesn't exist.

Please, don't tell me Jesus loves me. I know this... but it isn't comforting anymore. It just isn't, not when you've seen everything I have... it just doesn't help anymore.

Speak Out

Domestic Violence doesn't discriminate, but the good news is... We have the power to end it. Speak out.

Being Happy

Is it a state of mind? Can you always chose to be happy and then just be happy or is there more involved?

Someone keeps telling me that you can just chose to be happy and then you're happy but is that really so?

A Little Change

My life needs a change... so I highlighted my hair, cut my bangs, changed backpacks, changed my purse, changed the way I wear my hair and changed a chair in my room. Think that's enough things changed?? haha Probably not, I'm sure I'll get restless again soon. I find this happens to me a lot when I'm on the brink of figuring something out.. but here's the thing, I'm not sure what I'm really trying to figure out... I know there a lot of untied strings in my life right now but they aren't anything that big... so I'm kind of wondering why all this change is needed... but ohhh well. I kind of like it. Change can be good sometimes. :)

Tell me some things that you guys have changed lately. :) No matter how crazy it is, I wanna hear!

p.s. I'll write my next blog on my adventures of photography and how its changed me. :)

Didn't Know it Was Possible

I've run into a funny situation. I've never had a guy in my life besides Jason who has honestly truly treated me like i was fragile. It's weird. I'm so used to guys trying to get my attention by tearing me down or being sarcastic. I'm just not used to sweetness or having a guy ask me how I honestly am feeling. Or EVEN WANTING to KNOW ABOUT MY GOALS.

There is this very kind boy in one of my college classes who used to be sarcastic with me but now he's one of the kindest guys I know. It's hard to take because when he says something I'm so use to having my defensive wall up that sometimes i don't always respond like I should.

This is new to me.

I like it but I miss the battle of wits. Do you think maybe I can find someone with both caring personality and the sarcastic attitude? Guess I gotta keep looking.

Ohhh well. It is nice to be cared about though.

Okay on a funny note....I snorted in English class today :P

God's Grace and Brokenness.

I have a sign hanging in my room. Its beautiful and sad. Its a sign that should remind me of brokenness but every time I look at my beautiful, sad sign it reminds me of God's grace and goodness to me.

People ask me, why I keep it hanging on my wall... they ask if it reminds me of pain but the only response I can think to give them is "Its beautiful" The sign is beautiful, it has such a mystery...and one of my best friends painted it for me. That's why I keep it up. I love the picture. I love it with all my heart and even though it should remind me of the time I was hurt and played it doesn't. If anything it reminds me of how much my heavenly father loves me and cared enough to let me hurt a little to save me from hurting a lot. That's what the sign means to me. Its a beautiful, broken sign that reminds me of God's grace.

....and that's why I leave it hanging on my wall.