Said the night wind to the little lamb,
do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb,
do you see what I see?
Above the rooftops search beams pierce the darkness. Blazing circles of light pour onto ghetto streets while powerful blades split the still night air. Flying low, choppers circle, widening an arc that begins near busy freeway interchanges and extends downtown. It is 2:30 on a chilly winter morning; the powerful searchlights persist for one hour, then two, then four until it is dawn and still the choppers circle. Tomorrow’s newspaper will carry no mention of why helicopters searched so relentlessly that night because crime is epidemic in the city and helicopters that hover low, lighting up the sky, are far too common here.
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite
With a tail as big as a kite
Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
Shots ring out at a mall filled with the hustle and bustle of Christmas, fired from the gun of an angry young man. In disbelief people fled and people died, pointlessly cut down where they stood in terror, lost forever to those who love them. A horrific deed, especially cruel at Christmas, though never can there be a justification, a suitable time, for senseless acts of violence. Too many incidents of shots fired needlessly, randomly, mercilessly inside schools and places of worship. No safe haven, no place out of harm’s way. Troubled individuals choosing to cut down others, bloody ransom for their secret pain.
A song, a song, high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea
With a voice as big as the sea
Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king,
Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king,
Do you know what I know?
In the east, the president of a great nation seals the fate of thousands who fight in a terrible war unlike any other. A congress, its drop in public confidence brutally low, fights aggressively and bitterly amongst its own; party against party, brother against brother, tearing at the fabric of freedom. A modern civil war played out before cameras that broadcast our strife to the far reaches of the planet, to those that hate us, those that wish us dead. News from the beltway of greed and corruption spinning out of control; the voices of good news silent.
A Child, a Child, shivers in the cold
Let us bring Him silver and gold
Let us bring Him silver and gold      Â
Said the king to the people everywhere,
Listen to what I say:
Pray for peace, people everywhere!
Listen to what I say:
We pray for world peace, for those who risk their lives for us: military men and women, firefighters, police officers, and rescue workers – that they will come home safe. That those who serve in government will do so with purity of heart and deed. That those in the world who hate us will find their convictions softened, that somehow, someway our enemies will find that there are not, after all, so many differences between us; that we are good and decent people, that we mean to bring harm to no one.
The Child, the Child, sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light
He will bring us goodness and light.
For all of our flaws, I know this about Americans: we are an open, trusting and generous society. It is part of our legacy that began 200 years ago when great men set aside their differences and met on common ground for the good of all to forge a new nation, a precious heritage to all who followed. In the young country people prospered, propelling the new land into world leadership in fields of medicine, technology, military might. In a nation without dictatorship, without restrictions of speech or religion, many saw opportunity, and they came and settled in America to begin new lives. Most thrived, a testament to hard work and ingenuity, and because once we were all proud to work and stand together as Americans. And though we prayed for peace, we didn’t always find it. Men and women went to war and war became the inherent risk of remaining free.
Today we prepare to celebrate Christmas; timeless traditions for rejoicing in the holidays are in readiness. Trees are trimmed, gifts are wrapped, holiday sweets have cooled on kitchen counters. Parking spaces are opening up again at the malls. Those of us who can will draw loved ones near and give thanks for our blessings as we ask for still others: that those who are gravely troubled will seek aid without resorting to violence, that they will reach out for help and unerringly find a strong hand there to provide it. That our children and our children’s children will grow strong in a country that is safe and free, on a planet that is healthfully sustained because those of us who came before were good stewards of our precious land. That the simple words of a beloved Christmas carol will hold meaning in the hearts of people of all faiths everywhere. At this holiday season, I wish you goodness and light with the hope that someday we will all know true peace on earth.
Gale Hammond is a writer and freelance photographer who has lived in Morgan Hill 24 years. Reach her at
Ga*********@*ol.com.
