Christmas 08,

Just a little boy standing in the storm....
He was just a little boy standing in the storm with his nose pressed firmly against the glass..His looked like he could "will" himself inside. He was nearly a part of the Christmas window he'd stood so long. He was staring. He was wishing. He was filled with hope. If there was a Santa, Perhaps; just perhaps he would bring him his hearts desire. He knew there WAS one. Wasn't he sitting on a white throne attended by elfs in the OTHER window? Were there no children lined up to speak with him? He had already told his wish to Santa. If he told anyone else....Would his wish go up in smoke, like his Birthday wish had done? He watched Christmas Fairies cavort in the window. The toy soldiers stood at attention on their wooden legs while the train went steadily around and around and around. The Christmas tree bore brightly bubbling lights in red, blue and green.Gaily wrapped Packages were strewn about,beneath it's boughs, as if in wait for a small child to come and tear them asunder. An angel dressed all in white stood at it's top, holding candles aloft to light the way to another little boy in another time, at another place.. Silent, seemingly alone he stood. He seemed to be dreaming. He wasn't ragged or worn. He was not dressed with any sort of style. BUT, he was clean!. He was clean and his hair was combed. He was there with hope in his heart. His only thought was what he wanted Most for Christmas.He held his hands tightly clenched in snow damped gloves while he stood. His Snow covered lashes barely contained the look of avarice in his big blue eyes. His "watch cap" as his Daddy called it; was cocked a bit to one side so his blond hair showed how much he needed a hair cut. He had no boots, only basketball shoes covered his cold feet. Yet, he stood on. He waited patiently while the roar of cars slithering through ice covered city streets seemed not to seep in to his mind at all. He had tried prayer, He had yet to be answered. He was going to try Santa. There was only one thing he wanted for Christmas. Perhaps Santa could provide. He'd tried talking to Jesus in Church. He'd seen the Baby Jesus in the Manger out front of the church and stopped to talk to him personal like. The stone baby was not listening. Santa was flesh and Blood. Perhaps he would hear....Perhaps he would have the answer to his only Christmas wish. Nay! It was more of a Christmas Prayer. He stood rooted to the ground in front of the festive window. He didn't take his eyes from the angel. Not even the Santa on the corner got his attention, now.....He was sure she "winked" at him! Maybe the stone child in the pretend manger was listening after all. Maybe the animals in the manger were going to talk about him tonight. Maybe....Just Maybe, his Daddy would come home from Something called the "Tet offensive" whole and safe after all..... Today an old man stands bent with age. His hands are worn with hard work. His gloves are ragged, his feet are cold. He stands before the same window. He stopped to pray before the same stone child. He even gave the ancient wooden sheep a small pat on the head as he walked slowly away. It seemed to him he had done this all before in his long ago past. He'd stood at that very window, Wishing, praying.....His old faded blue eyes filled with tears. The cane he grasp shook in the cold. The cars he could not hear were not so big. They didn't growl so loud or sound so fierce. Still they slithered along on wet iced city streets. People didnt' seem to see him standing bent in prayer as he had been so many years ago. Then he had prayed to the angel atop the tensil covered tree. Now he knew, He had no doubt at all. The Santa at the corner would not help him the Santa who now rested on the same Shopworn throne in the same window was of no use at all. Nor, were the stone statues going to answer his prayers. Still he prayed as he had prayed before. He prayed now for the safety of his Grandson. That was then That was Viet Nam. That was a country in a jungle. His prayers were answered then.... Would they be answered now...Would his Grandson come home safe from this desert country. Would He help to free people who were locked into horrors we were blessed to never see !! When he was done would he too come home? The little boy, now old and worn, still prayed as he did then......He still stood stark still as he had then....The Tall toy soldiers had new coats of paint. The sugar plum Fairies wore new costumes.....and he prayed for the safety of a new loved one....That he too would be home for the Next Christmas, He prayed that he be kept safe to come home to his sons. He prayed while people who seemed not to notice walked past, people who seemed not to see, people who listened to the strains of "Santa Claus is Coming." Just as those others had so many years ago.......Once more the Angel at the top of the Glittering tree seemed to wink at him, before he ceased his vigel and walked slowly toward home...still whispering his prayer of HOPE and love as he did when he was a boy....Who's Daddy was in a different war, in a different time, in a different world.....When an Angel's "wink" seemed to confirm that God was smiling upon him.....Perhaps God still smiled.....ONLY time would tell!

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