With God in a P.O.W. Camp

This excerpt from the book named above, by Lt. Commander Ralph Gaither, appeared recently in our paper.  I wanted to pass it on because I cannot get it out of my mind.  Let us all remember those behind bars for any reason:

I wanted a Christmas tree (in my prison cell).
...That Christmas tree came to mean to me just the opposite of all I was experiencing.  The green of it envisioned freedom, and light, and family, and America.  And the season the tree represents spoke of God.

I dreamed of a Christmas tree, and the melancholy knowledge that I should be at home settled over me in a pall.  I prayed.

Then one afternoon after washing my dishes, I turned to take the one step back into my cell.  I looked down and on the threshold of my door was a tiny leaf blown by the wind.  I picked it up with my toes and carried it inside...I carefully took the leaf from between my toes and looked at it for a long time.  I held it to my nose.  The perfume of freedom raced up my nostrils and infused my mind with its power.  I fondled the leaf.  It was real.  I held it in my hand.

God had not forgotten me.  I set the leaf on the little ledge by the window.  Its greeness stood out in stark contrast to the dull, gray bars.

Tears rolled down my cheeks.  God had given me a Christmas tree.