Its Christmas Eve, and as my wife and I sit contently by the fire, enjoying the holiday music, and the lights, and a mug of warm, and each other
somewhere in a firehouse, men and women have left their families to wait for the alarm that may come. And while we fill the stockings and put out the gifts, a fire is being fought, a child is rescued from a smoke filled room, and a familys treasured positions are being saved.
As we sleep peacefully in our beds, police officers patrol the neighborhoods, protecting the valuable gifts that lay vulnerable beneath the tree. Later this night, officers respond to a domestic quarrel, a robbery, an act of senseless violence. It is Christmas Eve.
Morning comes. And while our children and grandchildren excitedly open gifts, an EMT responds to a car wreck, working furiously to save the innocent mom and dad mangled by the drunk who sits uninjured in the patrol cars back seat. One of the EMTs holds the child that did not survive.
But this Christmas morning there is music in our home, and laughter, and love. It is a good noisy. It sounds like love. The turkey smells just right, and grandpa and grandson are playing on the floor with the new toys. Soon we will feast.
At the hospital, doctors and nurses attend to the sick, the injured, the dead. Their families are used to being without them, so they say, on Christmas.
I might not think of you who serve and sacrifice on Christmas day. Most of us dont. We know youre out there, protecting us, saving us, giving us this day. But we forget youre there, and if we are reminded by seeing you (which we hope not to be), it is likely through tragedy.
For those of you in law and rescue and medical who work on Christmas, thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
And for those who serve in our armed forces in Iraq, and to their families separated from them, there are no words.
Thank you.
As we sleep peacefully in our beds, police officers patrol the neighborhoods, protecting the valuable gifts that lay vulnerable beneath the tree. Later this night, officers respond to a domestic quarrel, a robbery, an act of senseless violence. It is Christmas Eve.
Morning comes. And while our children and grandchildren excitedly open gifts, an EMT responds to a car wreck, working furiously to save the innocent mom and dad mangled by the drunk who sits uninjured in the patrol cars back seat. One of the EMTs holds the child that did not survive.
But this Christmas morning there is music in our home, and laughter, and love. It is a good noisy. It sounds like love. The turkey smells just right, and grandpa and grandson are playing on the floor with the new toys. Soon we will feast.
At the hospital, doctors and nurses attend to the sick, the injured, the dead. Their families are used to being without them, so they say, on Christmas.
I might not think of you who serve and sacrifice on Christmas day. Most of us dont. We know youre out there, protecting us, saving us, giving us this day. But we forget youre there, and if we are reminded by seeing you (which we hope not to be), it is likely through tragedy.
For those of you in law and rescue and medical who work on Christmas, thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
And for those who serve in our armed forces in Iraq, and to their families separated from them, there are no words.
Thank you.
