Christmas Through the Ages: A Soldier's Reflection

Let us not forget those who serve away from home.

Snow fell silently on the foreign soil where Private James Harper stood guard. The glow of a distant village flickered like a mirage of the warmth he longed for. It was Christmas Eve, and though the war seemed far away in this moment of calm, its weight hung heavily in the frigid air.

James tightened his scarf and thought of home. He imagined his mother bustling around the kitchen, the smell of roasted ham filling the house.

His siblings would be bickering over who would open the first present, while his father sat quietly in his chair, the same stoic pride etched on his face as when James had left for boot camp. The memory warmed him as much as the hot coffee in his canteen.

Across time, soldiers had shared this bittersweet longing. James thought of Washington's men, huddled around campfires at Valley Forge, freezing but resolute. He pictured Civil War soldiers exchanging coffee and tobacco across enemy lines during an unofficial truce, finding common humanity despite the horrors of war.

Through his earpiece, James heard the faint sound of "Silent Night" played by the regimental band. It reminded him of a story his grandfather used to tell—how, during World War I, soldiers on both sides had laid down their arms to sing carols and exchange small gifts in the trenches. Even in the darkest times, the spirit of Christmas had forged fleeting moments of peace.

His buddy, Rodriguez, joined him on post, stamping his boots against the cold. "Thinking about home?" Rodriguez asked.

James nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"Always," Rodriguez replied, pulling out a photograph of his wife and two little girls. "But you know what? These guys—" he gestured toward the camp, where their platoon was gathered around a makeshift tree decorated with scraps of tinsel and paper ornaments—"they’re family too. Out here, we’ve got each other."

James felt a surge of gratitude. Despite the loneliness, there was camaraderie, a bond forged in shared sacrifice. They weren't just soldiers; they were brothers and sisters standing together in a world that often felt too broken to fix.

As midnight approached, the chaplain arrived with cookies and a Bible. The men gathered, voices low but steady, as they sang hymns that echoed into the stillness of the night. For a brief moment, James felt a profound connection—not just to his comrades, but to every soldier who had ever served on Christmas, from those who crossed frozen rivers in the Revolution to the pilots flying missions in the Middle East.

He thought of the sacrifices made by those who came before him, the loved ones they left behind, and the resilience it took to endure. It wasn’t the gifts or the feasts that made Christmas special, but the hope it inspired—the promise of a better tomorrow.

As the final notes of "O Holy Night" faded into the distance, James looked up at the stars. Somewhere under the same sky, his family was celebrating without him, but he knew they were thinking of him, just as he was of them.

And so, as we gather with our loved ones this holiday season, let us remember those who are still not home for Christmas—the men and women who stand watch in distant lands, sacrificing so much to protect the peace we cherish.

May we honor their courage, hold them in our hearts, and keep their hope alive until they return safely home.

Amen.