Title: Circle of Light
Author: MSHDV, mshdv@pacbell.net
Summary: Harm and Mac get the most precious of Holiday gifts.
Disclaimer: All JAG characters portrayed are the property of Bellesario Procuctions, Paramount, and CBS and no copyright infringement is intended. The italicized portions of this story are adapted and modified from the song "When You Walked Into My Life" by Lila McCann and Asylum Records.

Author's Dedication: This story is dedicated to all the honorable and courageous Sailors of the USS Cole, those who have passed and those who have survived to serve a grateful country again.


Circle of Light


One of the holiest of holidays comes for all of us the same time every year, and yet for some of us each year, we face the joyous of all days, when Jew and Christian celebrate together, with loneliness, with helplessness, with hopelessness, and with the emptiness, all mortared by a lack of faith.

Each year, some of us look at that which "was" with insurmountable hopelessness, that which "is" with insufferable helplessness and that which "will be" with formidable emptiness, mortared by what is perceived as unconquerable loneliness that comes when one has lost all faith.

For a lack of faith weakens the will, defeats the spirit, numbs the heart, and clouds the mind. Faith consists of believing our heart when it argues with the reason of our mind . . .

For with a weakened will, a defeated spirit, a numbed heart, and a clouded mind one can only deny the miracles that faith may provide us. For miracles are not mere events . . . they are powerful vessels provided us by a loving God to help revive the greatest of all gifts . . . a regenerated faith revealing the wisdom of what was, of what is and of what should be.


DECEMBER 13, 2000
2030HRS (CST)
HARM'S CAR
SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON DC



He had waited all this life, counting the minutes as they passed, searching for a sign, wishing for the best. And just when his faith was wearing thin, she taught his heart to love again, like a miracle out of the blue, she rescued him like the angels do, she shook the heavens and cracked the sky when she walked, when she walked into his life . . .


"I need someone to explain to me how one person can have a small brigade to buy Christmas gifts for, shop for four hours, and end up with . . . with only 'stuff' for themselves."

"Me?"

"You, Renee." Harm shook his head in continuing disbelief that he had allowed himself to be subjected to the agony of a shopping excursion with Renee . . . a woman whose entire conversation always consisted of who, what, when and "wear" . . . and of course inevitably "me".

Ignoring Harm's irritated look, Renee rummaged through the pile of shopping bags that seemed to be multiplying of their own volition in the back seat of Harm's SUV. "I just picked up a 'few' essentials that I needed. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing . . . " Deciding a conversation with a woman who normally had as little on her mind as she had on her body was useless, he sighed inaudibly and turned his attention back to the snow-covered road in front of them. Stopping at the corner as the signal light changed, he lost focus momentarily as the red light blinded him with its harsh reflective glow against the slick wet pavement.

Finding what she was looking for, Renee held up one of her new outfits, that looked like something someone should only wear when they were fleeing from a burning building and turned with a smile towards the object of frustrated annoyance that sat next to her. "Isn't this just perfect for Christmas Day? Harm? Hey, Sailor!"

"Renee, look at that little girl on the corner."

"What corner?"

"Across from us, there. It's awfully late for her to be out alone, especially in this neighborhood and on a night like this, no less." Harm tried to center his attention on the small figure through the falling snow and the glare of the streetlights illuminating the snow that was already starting to quickly accumulate on the sidewalks and the road.

She couldn't have been more than eight . . . bundled against the bone-chilling December night . . . carrying a brightly colored Christmas sack . . . stopping momentarily and handing the huddled homeless . . . something shiny from her bag . . . with a light touch, with a soft word, with an angelic smile on her face, she moved from one to the other handing them, the small gaily-wrapped packages.

"Where? I don't see anything." Renee looked distractedly at where Harm appeared to be pointing, more attuned to the tasseled pink silk that played between her fingers.

"There, by those cardboard boxes. She's carrying some kind of a bag, and she seems to be giving something to that homeless man. I'm going to pull over and see if she's . . . "

"Harmon Rabb, don't you dare! What little girl? I don't see anything but a row of cardboard boxes and . . . and . . . lots of bums. Don't you dare stop in this neighborhood for something that is really none of our business. Harm, don't!"

Pointedly Harm glanced over at Renee, trying to ignore the tasseled "something" she was holding in her hand that looked like it had been assembled in front of a jet engine. "You can bet I am."

When the light turned green, almost beckoning him to go and to stop, when he turned his attention back to the cold snow-swept corner, littered with the garbage of some, turned into the treasures of others . . . the little girl was gone.

And he just sped by the hopeless, the helpless and the faithless, and as he stole one more look at Renee, engrossed in her silk tasseled wonderland . . . he wondered, like he had done on so many other nights, what Sarah MacKenzie was doing this night . . . and he lost himself once again in all he wished that could be.


2130HRS (CST)
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


Mac sat on her bed and looked at the explosion of paper, as if the DC phone book had self-imploded around her. She had been at it for hours, her hands cramped and her muscles screamed for relief realizing, that maybe she had just taken too much work home to finish tonight. But this had been her routine, no it had been her life, each and every night since she had given Mic his ring back, since he had returned to Australia, since Harm and Renee had appeared to become closer, and since "Baby Sarah" had died . . . especially since Baby Sarah's death.

And now, now the loneliest time of year was about to surround her again in the endless parade of merriment she never seemed to be a part of . . . like a stranger that always just stood on the outskirts alone. A time for family and loved ones, a time for sharing, a time for giving, a time for friendship, a time for love, and a time for faith. She fell back on the bed exhausted and closed her eyes, trying as she did every year to stir any childhood memories of a joyous, magical Christmas morning when she had awakened surrounded by the sights, the scents, the sounds, and the love of the Holidays. But she couldn't. She couldn't remember one loving Holiday memory from her childhood.

And this year, this year would be the loneliest Holiday season yet. Professionally, she was the best that she could be, but the last year in the personal life of Colonel Sarah MacKenzie had only been comprised of personal insurmountable failures and losses. She had been, in no uncertain terms rejected by the one man she would ever love with all her heart. She had almost given her heart to a man she didn't love, all for the wrong reasons and all but almost devastated his world with her selfish indecision. She had lost a friendship built on faith, built on trust and built on mutual understanding . . . a friendship that comes along only once in a lifetime. And she had lost her namesake, a precious gift of life, for reasons she couldn't fathom to the cruelty of a God she no longer understood.

And this year, his year, she would surround herself with strangers and be more alone than she had ever been before. Uncle Matt was still in Leavenworth . . . there was no going there, no matter how much she missed him. Bud and Harriet had decided to go to Florida and spend the Holidays with Harriet's parents, a healing trip that they both needed desperately. Chloe and her grandparents were flying to Hawaii to spend the Holidays with Kyle, who would be on R and R . . . she didn't want to intrude on their Honolulu Christmas. The Admiral was going to Italy with Sydney to introduce her to Franchesca and bring in the New Year filled with promise for them. And Harm . . . Harm was going to La Jolla to finally spend a family Christmas, the first she recalled as long as she had known him, with his mother, with his step-father . . . and with Renee . . . he was actually taking Renee.

And this year, this year, she would spend a part of Christmas Day at the Wall. A silent treasured secret tradition that she had started since they had come back from Russia, since they had found the truth . . . still reaching for the silent strength from the father that she once gained from her friendship with the son. And this Christmas Day, she would visit the small grave of her namesake, Baby Sarah, like she had each Sunday since her death . . . needing to learn the whys in her own private solitude . . . trying to understand the cruelty of it all.

As a tear of lonely self-pity threatened to trail down her cheek, she felt a warm nose pressed in the palm of her open hand that dangled over the edge of the bed and the rasping kiss of a tongue. Almost as if her only companion understood the loneliness, the despair, the sadness and the emptiness she was feeling fed by the bout of self-pity she allowed to serge through her.

"Oh, Jingo. I forgot all about you. Time for a walk? Okay, let's go, but first I'm going to put on a pot of coffee to ward off at least my chill when we come back."

Once in the kitchen, with frustration, she flung the empty bag of coffee into the sink. "Well, looks like a stop at Jake's Mini-Mart is also now in our game plan, because I have a feeling this is going to be one of those long sleepless nights."


2200HRS (CST)
JAKES ALL NIGHT MINI-MART
GEORGETOWN DC


She had waited all her life, counting the minutes as they passed, searching for a sign, wishing for the best. And just when her faith was wearing thin, she taught her heart to love again, like a miracle out of the blue, she rescued her like the angels do, she shook the heavens and cracked the sky when she walked, when she walked into her life . . .


The storm had started to grow in intensity by the time Mac reached Jake's, the wailing wind whirling the fresh flakes in patterned swirls against the street and the buildings. As she approached the large canopied area crowded with wreaths, garland, sprigs of pine, and trees waiting for a holiday home, she noticed the small child for the first time. Standing outside the entrance, next to the fire barrel Jake built to keep him warm when he was waiting on the perfect tree to be chosen by the perfect family, the young girl stood warming herself by the glowing receding embers of the fire.

"Hi." Hearing her greeting go unanswered, carried by the howling wind that whipped around the corner, she secured Jingo's leash to a sign post and stepped into the warmth of the store with a sidelong glance at the small bundle by the fire.

"Hey, Jake."

"Evening, Sarah. It's late for you to be out in this storm."

"Not when you run out of coffee it isn't."

"I hear that. Will this be it?"

"That should do it . . . Jake, the little girl out there . . ." Mac's gaze wandered to the decorated window front of the store, noticing that the little girl now was ruffling Jingo's fur as she knelt and petted him, his tail swinging a mile a minute in appreciation, seemingly unencumbered by the wind.

"Oh, her. She's been around here every day for the last week. Plays the video games, buys a soda, and then leaves. She seems like a good kid. Never gives me any problems like some of the others."

"It's kinda late for her to be out, isn't it?"

"She's never been here this late before." Jake shrugged his shoulders as he handed Mac her change. "But nothing surprises me with kids nowadays or parents for that matter. Maybe she's waiting for someone tonight."

"Maybe she is. Thanks, Jake."

"You be careful out there, Sarah."

"I will. Goodnight."


The minute the small girl felt Mac's presence and the warmth from the open door seep past her, she stood and backed away from Jingo. Her eyes were wide and she had a quizzical look of recognition on her pudgy face of pure innocence. "Your dog is old."

Mac had to smile. Of all the things she had expected to be greeted with, that was not one of them. "He sure is, but he still has some get-up and go that hasn't gotten up and gone."

"If you say so." The small bundle shrugged her shoulders, turning her back on Mac and faced the wind, moving closer to the fire barrel.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"No."

"Isn't it a little late for you to be out here, alone."

"No."

"Aren't you cold?"

"No."

"Can't you answer a question with more than a one syllable word?"

"No . . . Because I'm not suppose to talk to strangers."

"Me neither. My name is Sarah MacKenzie. But my friends call me Mac, and this is Jingo. There, now we're not strangers anymore." Mac smiled as she felt the small gloved hand slip in hers and waited to find out who this mystery child was.

"Hi, Mac. I'm TC, and my friends call me TC, and yeah, we still are."

"Are what?"

"Strangers. You're still a stranger to me, Sarah MacKenzie."

"Well, why don't Jingo and I walk you home, and we can get to know each other. What do you say, TC?"

"I suppose, but I'm going in the opposite direction."

"How do you know that?"

"'Cause I saw you come from 18th Street."

"Ah, I see. You're very observant."

"I have to be."

"Can I walk with you anyway?"

"I guess it's okay . . . if you let me . . . hold the leash . . . I never had a dog, you know."

"Sure. I think Jingo would like that."


Mac and TC walked along the snow-covered streets, at first, in a stilted silence, then in quiet conversation, as the temperature continued to dip and the snow swirled around them on the ever-incessant wind. Each was hesitant, at first, to open up to a stranger they had met on a snow-covered darkened street corner, but they eventually fell into a quiet companionship as they continued to walk in the bitter cold . . . the bitter cold that inexplicably didn't seem to affect either of them.

It was a peaceful night that was unfolding, it was a serene scene that was being painted, one that could have inspired the most perfect of all Christmas cards, reflecting the true meaning of the Holiday season. The true meaning of what it was to give and to receive, without question when in need, the support of a stranger, in the cruelest of what appeared to be the loneliest of all worlds. To reach out with a heart filled with faith, with a heart filled with hope and with a heart filled with charity . . . to the tiniest and mightiest creature of the earth. To give what was of the greatest of all valued gifts . . . to give freely and simply of ones-self.

Sarah MacKenzie, normally stoically in check of all emotions, didn't know what possessed her to take the small stranger's hand when they turned the corner onto Jacob Street. But when she heard the approaching sirens, saw the tangle of medical, police and fire vehicles and saw the flames engulf 1437 Jacob Street, she just held on tighter to the hand that was suddenly firmly grasping hers without any evident hesitation.


DECEMBER 22, 2000
2200HRS (CST)
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


Mac watched TC fight the sandman that threatened to carry her to dreamland, and she smiled at the feisty cherubic resistance on the small child's face. It had been more than a week since they had found each other on that dark snow-covered corner, and as each day passed, they had grown closer, they had opened up to each other, giving each other a little more of themselves. Mac's adult fears being salved by the innocence of a child's naïve wisdom. And TC's world being filled by the sights, the sounds and by the support of an adult . . . learning how to celebrate the season of faith and love for the first time.

Mac kissed the small sleeping child. "Sleep tight little one, until morning's light." She chuckled and shook her head as she watched Jingo take his cue from her and hop on the sofa bed and nestle next to TC, her little arm quickly encircling the nesting ball of fir. instinctively, even in sleep.

Walking to her bedroom, she looked back at the child in peaceful slumber and couldn't keep the smile from crossing her beautiful face. Her living room looked like a winter wonderland, transformed in just the space of a week with the joy of a child's heart, from Scrooge's Parlor to Santa's Workshop.

A fresh eight-foot tree graced the corner by the window, its ornaments dancing in the sparkle of the twinkling, colored lights. The sounds, sights and scents of Christmas were everywhere . . . from scented candles and gilded pine cones to the overstuffed Santas and Elves . . . from pine-scented garland and festive holly to the graceful ribbons and bows. There was not an inch of her apartment that was wanting of a festive trinket, not an inch that felt naked and alone . . . but her favorite of all her new holiday treasures was the simple Nativity Scene that was carefully placed on the fireplace mantle.

As she shut off the living room light, she stared at the Nativity Scene that seemed to come alive in the celestial glow of the candles that surrounded it . . . and for the first time in the last year, Sarah MacKenzie felt at peace, felt there was hope, and gained the faith . . . all infused by the presence of the small sleeping child.


DECEMBER 23, 2000
0930HRS (CST)
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH VA


Harm watched Mac juggle the box she was carrying precariously as she navigated her way through the crowded early morning activity in the bullpen and made her way to the mailroom. He had noticed the tired, darkened circles under her beautiful eyes since Brumby's departure. He had noticed the mounds of paperwork she had been taking home. And he had noticed her withdrawal, as only he would, since Sarah's death.

He knew the toll this time of year always seemed to take on her, but . . . but . . . he had said nothing, hoping she would talk to him, when she was ready, when the time was right . . . but that time had never come, and he had never approached her. But as he continued to stare at her from across the bullpen, this time there was something different about her . . . something almost ethereal . . . something that made her more beautiful . . . and he cursed himself for his fears, his insecurities and his inability to give what he so wanted her to return.

What kind of a friend was he? He didn't even know what she had planned for the holidays . . . would she be alone . . . what kind of a friend was he? But since Brumby's departure, he knew what kind of a friend he wanted to be as his mind fought his heart to distance himself from her further. He knew what kind of friend he wanted to be . . . an intimate one . . . and it scared him to death. Somehow, sometime, somewhere, the time had come for him to "let go," and it scared him to death as he fought the feelings he tried desperately to bury, to hide, to ignore . . . somewhere in a heart with little faith. With little faith that he had the strength, that they had what it took . . . to make love work . . . this time.

"Colonel . . . I . . ."

He saw the collision coming, as Gunny diverted Mac's attention for just a moment, just enough for her to bump into the ever lurking Singer, and suddenly the contents of the box Mac was carrying created its own snowstorm of cards within JAG Operations. Moving toward the explosion, he heard Singer's weak apology, saw her hasty retreat, and when he knelt by Mac's side, he felt a sharp pain of regret in his heart as he noticed the tired lines that also tugged at the corners of her mouth. But there was also something more than the tired lines . . . there seemed to be a brightness of spirit in her soulful eyes.

"Gunny!" Giving the Gunny a pointed glare, Mac knelt and started to accumulate the cards and reload the box, her hands trembling at Harm's close presence and the softness in his voice.

"Hey easy, Marine."

"Sorry, Colonel." Victor also now knelt next to Mac trying to help, her exasperation with him unnerving him for a just moment. "I have a Ms. Greta Robbins from Social Services on the phone for you. Ma'am."

"Thanks, Gunny. Harm can you . . ."

"Yeah, the Gunny and I have a handle on this. Go."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Harm watched her stand, straighten her uniform, and offer him a hint of a smile as she hurried off to her office closing the door discretely behind her. He shook the memories that her closeness had evoked in him, breathing in her soft scent that lingered, he tried to focus his attention on the mounds of scattered cards and the question on his mind.

"Social Services, Gunny?"

"Yes, Sir."

"About?"

"Don't know. I'll finish this and get it to the mailroom, Sir."

"Thanks, Gunny."

Harm fought the urges he had been fighting for the last month . . . no for the last year . . . no . . . for what seemed like a lifetime now and retreated to his own office and closed the door. Why was it so hard with her? Why couldn't he just have the strength to say what he wanted to say and have the faith that it was finally the right time for both of them? Why was everything only so hard with her . . . only with her?


"Well, that isn't good enough, Ms. Robbins. It has been a week, and TC will not spend Christmas in a shelter, until and if you find her aunt. She will be staying with me as we discussed, so go ahead and process the paperwork."

Ending the call abruptly, Sarah MacKenzie stood at the window and watched the falling snow that continued to gently blanket Falls Church, and somehow she suddenly felt a great peace, a renewed strength and the hand of faith gently caress her. Maybe, just maybe, this Christmas wouldn't be the dismal disaster all the others had been . . . with the company of a small child. Maybe, just maybe, this Christmas, the loneliness would be chased away . . . with the company of a small child. Maybe, just maybe, this Christmas there would be more joy to experience . . . with the company of a small child. And maybe, just maybe her faith would be restored . . . with the love and the company of a small child.

Maybe, just maybe there was some hope this Christmas . . .


The morning passed excruciatingly slowly for Harmon Rabb. Noticing the time, he finally mustered enough courage to go to Mac's office. Knocking quietly and hearing no response, he opened the door just in time to hear the tail end of her phone conversation as she motioned him to come in.

"I'll see you tonight then. Yes, we can make it by seven. I'm glad you're staying with me for the holidays too. I'll see you tonight. I miss you too."

"Brumby home for Christmas?" Harm released the breath he had been holding, hoping it wasn't so, hoping that they had seen the last of the irritating Australian boomerang.

"Hardly. Did you need something, Harm?"

"Actually, I just thought . . . we could maybe catch a quick bite."

"What, Renee not available?"

"Actually, no she's not. She left for California yesterday." Suddenly realizing that he had made it sound just as she had interpreted his luncheon invitation, he cursed himself silently for his insensitivity and tried to recover the moment. "Mac, that's not . . . you're not . . . I just thought we could . . . I'd just like to spend some time with you before I leave for the holidays."

"I see." She wanted to simply say no . . . she wanted to simply say yes. She had missed him terribly, and anytime with him would be better than no time at all. She had avoided him like the plague since Brumby's departure because it always seemed any time they spent alone only accentuated the fact that he didn't want her, and it forced her mind to replay his rejection in Australia over and over again. But this time she couldn't say no, this time she would just take a little time . . . and this time she seemed to believe she had the faith that it would be okay.

"So, do I get to choose, or are you going to make me suffer through some wilted greens on a plate, flyboy?"

The simple fact that she had accepted, the simple fact that she had used a term to address him he hadn't heard in months made him feel something he hadn't felt in months . . . alive. And the most brilliant smile crossed his handsome face as he stood suddenly speechless at the mere feel of her gently brush pass him.

"Well?"

" . . . What ever and where ever you want to go, Sarah."

Mac smiled at the irony of his chosen words as they rode in silence down in the elevator. Such simple words, but words that would have provided an eternity of love if they had just been spoken in a different context, to answer a prayer, on that ferry ride across Sydney Harbor on that warm summer night.


DECEMBER 23, 2000
1730HRS (CST)
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


Harm had watched her pack her things and slip out the door an hour early without even a goodnight from the silence of his darkened office. And now, here he sat, like a stalker, parked in front of her apartment, afraid to go up, not wanting to drive away, not knowing why he was drawn here tonight . . . drawn to her after all these months of chosen forced separation . . . not knowing what was pulling at him this night.

Lunch had passed too quickly in comfortable surroundings and pleasant conversation, relaxed in each other's company like they had once been. No strained moments of pretense in who they were, where they had been and where they had come, always alone and yet somehow inexplicably bound together. They had talked about their past, alone yet somehow inexplicably bound together. They had talked about their present, alone yet somehow inexplicably bound together. And they had both expertly changed the subject when it came to their future . . . afraid they would take that path alone, with little faith, that they would ever have the courage to say what would bind them inexplicably together forever.

And now here he sat so alone . . . and once again afraid they would never be bound together . . . that they wouldn't find the faith to trust in the two of them . . . to trust in the love that he wanted to be his future . . . with one . . . only one.


"TC, let's move it! The cab should be on its . . . " Her sentence trailed off, at the sound of the doorbell. Expecting that the cab driver was early, Mac didn't hesitate as she opened the door, but the shock on her face was more than evident at the unexpected sight of her partner. "Harm. What are you doing here?"

All practiced words disappeared at the sight of Sarah MacKenzie, and suddenly Harmon Rabb felt like he was twelve again, tongue tied and awkward, as pubescent thoughts flung themselves unabated to the forefront of his mind.

"Harm?"

"I . . ."

"I don't get why I can't just wear my jeans . . . a dress . . . you're not even wearing a . . ." TC stopped abruptly when she saw the open door and the two adults just standing in the open doorway staring at each other . . . and a small smile crossed her face. "Hey, you're Harm. Aren't you?"

The invisible tendrils that held them bound in silence started to snap, bringing them back to the present, as Harm was the first to break eye contact when he felt the slight tug on his overcoat. Looking down, he smiled when he saw the deep chocolate brown eyes of a dimpled girl staring up at him.

"Aren't you? You're Harm."

Harm knelt, a smile of relief he didn't quite understand on his face and took her extended hand in his. "I sure am. And you are?"

"TC. Glad to meet you."

"Me too, TC. And how did you know who I was?"

"I just knew, and besides Sarah has lots of pictures of you in her bedroom."

"TC! She's exaggerating, don't . . ." Suddenly shocked into the present as the tail end of TC's sentence registered, Mac tried to get a grip on the conversation and turn it away from the uncomfortable.

"Am not! Wait I'll show you!"

Before Mac could get a hold of the precocious child, she was off like a shot with Jingo right on her heels, determined to retrieve the items that would prove her point . . . that would make her case.

"Can I come in, Mac?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, but we were just about . . . " Mac took Harm's coat and immediately noticed his incredulous expression at the "Winter Wonderland" her apartment had been transformed into this Christmas, and she bristled under his scrutiny. "Say one thing about 'Santa's Toy Land', Rabb, and it will become your worse Christmas nightmare."

"Ouch, Marine. Actually its really something." But it wasn't only the fantasy kingdom that Harmon Rabb was admiring this night. It was the mistress of the kingdom that had him mesmerized. Seeing the pout of her lips, noticing the way the twinkling lights danced in her eyes, and the glow the candles cast against her flawless olive skin caused him to envision his own Christmas fantasy.

"See here they are. Come I'll show them to you." TC grabbed Harm's hand and tugged him to the sofa, covering her bounty protectively from the pointed stare and reach of one embarrassed Marine.

"TC, I don't think Harm is interested in . . . "

"Oh, but I am, Mac. Let's see what you have there, TC."

"OK. This one is of you two at some ball . . . then there is this one of you two at another ball. She looked like a princess, didn't she?"

"Yeah, like a beautiful princess . . . " Harm tried to catch Mac's eyes, but she quickly avoided his stare, his words only seemed to bring the painful memories of Australia back to the surface.

"Okay, that's enough . . . you have to finish getting ready . . ." Mac tried to reach for the pictures, but TC scurried to the edge of the sofa, protectively leaning now against Harm.

"No, please, Sarah. I'm ready . . . just a few more. Please, Sarah."

"Oh, all right . . . but I'm going to go finish getting ready." With that said, Mac escaped behind the safety of her closed bedroom door. Leaning against her dresser, she took a cleansing breath as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, chastising herself for allowing herself to display the memories of what "was no more" so prominently in the confines of her bedroom. But she hadn't been able to let him go, no matter how hard she had tried, she had held on, even if she only had him in some still photographs of past times no longer shared . . . past times that she would always cherish.


They had watched Mac quickly retreat in discomfort, Harm trying to ignore the regret he felt for the loss of what was, and TC glad in her childlike perceptive innocence that she would have more time to share the hidden memories . . . to perhaps rekindle the smoldering need.

"These are my favorites . . . the one of you and Mac at AJ's Christening and the Wedding." TC handed the photographs to Harm and watched in silence as he held them with recognizable emotions. "You look like you had some really good times. You were best friends weren't you?"

"The best . . . they were the best of times. Yeah, we were . . . the best of friends."

"Why aren't you now?"

"What makes you think we're not?"

"Because the pictures stopped . . . there are no more pictures."

"I guess they did . . . I guess everything . . . has just stopped."

TC saw the bright essence in his eyes dim as he gazed at what appeared to be so many lost precious pieces of his life. She laid her small hand on his shoulder in comfort, kneeling next to him. " It's not that hard. Just find the faith to be the best again."

"It's not as easy as that, little one." He still held tightly to the lost cherished memories of a life that had been as he turned a weak smile on TC. "Easy or hard, I wish we knew how."

"You both know how . . . you just have to recognize it, let go, and let faith bring back what was. Only then will faith be able to take you forward. You just have to believe in the power of faith. Faith will make you trust, trust will make you love, love will make you see, all that there is and all that should be."

Harm stared at the little girl in hushed disbelief at the depth of the words that had come from the simplest of childlike innocence. An innocence unencumbered by adult insecurities, fears, doubts, and self-inflicted complications. All that had ended a friendship and all that had impeded a love . . . all just the simple loss of faith, in who they were and what they could be together . . . two halves that were destined to make up one whole . . . together always together.

"Harm?"

He had to smile at the obvious concern that shone in this youngest of innocent's eyes . . . a child with what seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. "Tell me, TC, how old are you?"

"Way too young for an old man like you and besides your heart is taken."


"Have we finished our little trek down memory lane?" Standing in the hallway with her arms across her chest Mac tried to feign annoyance, but one look at TC's brown eyes filled with an angelic enthusiastic glow, she could do nothing but smile and shake her head.

"Yep, we're done and guess what! Guess what!"

"What, missy? Tell me." Mac knelt down in front of the sofa and started to bundle TC for the trip out into the cold December night.

"Harm is going to come with us to the 'Circle'. Isn't that great!"

"Harm, you don't have to . . . " Finally permitting herself to steal a glance in his direction, she lost momentary focus when she felt him take her hand and when she saw the incredible light in his eyes. They were shining like the brightest of stars, and she wanted to believe, in her heart of hearts, that they were shining only for her . . . but still there was no faith in trusting what she saw.

"I know I don't have to . . . I want to . . . Sarah. I want to."

Still hesitant, trying to reign in her surfacing emotions, she returned her attention toward TC . . . the look of hope in her eyes too compelling to deny her Harm's participation. "Well, then. Let's cancel the cab and get a move on it."

"Cabs already canceled. So are we ready?" Harm stood, taking Mac with him, his hands holding hers for just a moment longer than necessary, for just a small magical electric moment in time.

"I'll get Jingo!" TC scrambled off the sofa unsteadily; Mac had her so bundled that she teetered on her way to the kitchen to retrieve his leash, his coat and Jingo, who was nestled comfortably at the foot of the Christmas tree for the night, or so he thought.

Harm helped Mac on with her coat after slipping into his . . . and when they both caught their reflection in the hall mirror, there was no looking away, turning, running and hiding, denying all there had been and all they wished that still was. As his hands continued to rest gently on her shoulders and their eyes locked on their joined reflections, they were amazed at what they saw in the reflective glass glowing with an essence, glowing in the room's candlelight.

It was as if they were seeing themselves for the first time . . . it was as if they had stepped out of their bodies . . . to gaze upon two souls that were seeing for the first time what everyone else had seen for years. Two halves that formed one whole, two hearts that beat as one . . . seen for the first time as if through anothers eyes.


1900HRS (CST)
SOMEWHERE IN THE HILLS
WASHINGTON DC


They had waited impatiently all their lives, counting the minutes as time flew by, searching for some blessed sign, wishing for the best of joined times. When she appeared, like sights to the blind, like music to their ears, like the found reason to their rhythm. And just when they thought their faith was gone, love came to them with open arms, like a miracle out of the blue, she rescued them like the angels do, she shook the heavens and cracked the sky when she walked, when she walked into their lives . . .


Throughout the world, there fell a devout hushed silence as all the candles were lit, and as the world joined hands in reverent remembrance. At 0800 HRS Beijing time. At 0000 HRS Dublin time. At 0330 HRS Teheran time. At 0300 HRS Moscow time. At 0700 HRS Hanoi time. At 0200 HRS Jerusalem time. At 0100 HRS Zagreb time. At 0200 HRS Istanbul time. At 0900 Seoul time. At 0100 HRS Algiers time and at 1900 HRS in the hills overlooking Washington, DC, the "Circle of Light" enveloped the world in a salving reminder of all the precious children that had passed and who now served as God's angels. All conflicts were mere memories of a now-silenced angry world, all differences absorbed by the grace of all the worshipped Gods as the candlelight of love shone like the brightest star above.

And in the hills above Washington . . . the snow stopped magically, the howling wind miraculously hushed, as the large clock in the Town Square chimed at the 1900 hour. The candles of varying heights and colors were lit in memorial, held by strangers that all joined hands, sharing a common need to remember, sharing a common need to renew their faith, to avow their love, and the need to partake in the twenty-four-hour remembrance that now encircled the world for all the precious souls that had passed . . . the precious souls that were once again remembered with the twenty-four hour "Circle of Light" that enveloped the world with its loving grace.

And with TC nestled between them, Mac and Harm joined hands and remembered the smallest soul that had been taken from their extended JAG Family, from her loving parents, they remembered Baby Sarah, in the bright "Circle of Light" that now encompassed the world in peaceful solidarity.


2000HRS (CST)
ROBERT'S RESIDENCE
ROSSLYN VA


"Harriet, are you sure?"

"Yes, Bud. I am. I want AJ to wake up happy on Christmas morning in his own bed, surrounded by familiarity, by us, and by the memories of his baby sister. And I want him to spend some time with his godmother on Christmas day."

"But . . . I thought . . . after all we've been through . . . that I . . ."

"I know and I love you and my parents for trying to help ease some of the pain. But we can't run from what happened, I never want to forget the miracle that we lost. She'll always be with us, always a part of this family, if only as an important memory in our heart."

"But . . . But your mother, Harriet. You know how she gets . . . she'll . . ."

"Throw a tantrum, but daddy will get her to understand once I explain. Please, Bud. Please do this for me . . . please do this for us."

"Okay, we'll stay and thank God for what we have, and remember with love what we've lost . . . and try to understand why she's at peace in the kingdom of Heaven . . . not here with us . . . yet always to be remembered and loved."


2300HRS CST
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


Mac sat huddled with TC resting comfortably in her arms, the glow of candlelight binding them, peacefully shadowed in the sudden silence that surrounded them. Mac's thoughts on the man whose hand she held on that peaceful hill, whose eyes shone with his own unshed tears, and for the strength he passed to her once again with the hope of a revived friendship, perhaps even the hope of a new beginning. And she was thankful for the blessing of the child she held in her arms, her innocence and faith, soul strengthening. This Holiday season was truly becoming a time of hope, a time of faith, a time of love and a time of miracles.

"I like Harm."

"I'm glad, TC. I know he likes you, too."

"He loves you, you know." TC looked up into the eyes of the adult who had welcomed her into her home without question, without hesitation and who had given her the first true Christmas she ever had. "And you love him, too. You do, you know."

"TC, he has a girlfriend. He's taking her to California to spend the Holidays with his parents. And besides I . . . "

"Sarah, can I tell you what I think? Sometimes I think 'love' is like a mushroom. Sometimes you have to taste them all before you find just the right one."

"What?"

"Sometimes mushrooms are nasty 'poisonous' things that can hurt you. I think you've had your share of the 'poisonous' kind and have really been hurt. But now . . . you've . . . well found the one that's perfect . . . that's just right. And, well, all you need is a little faith, a little trust." TC yawned and snuggled closer to Sarah as sleep was threatening to intrude on one of their last quiet moments together.

"You know what I think? That there is someone that needs to get to bed, missy."

"No, please, Sarah, not yet. Just a while longer."

Mac felt TC tighten her hold on her, and she gave in to her pleadings. "Okay, just a little while longer."

"Sarah?"

"Hmmmmm."

"You will be all right when I have to leave, I know you will. You know they won't let me stay, no matter how much I want to . . . "

A single tear of immense regret slipped down Sarah MacKenzie's cheek as the feared words were finally voiced, voiced by the child she held tightly in her aching arms . . . a child who seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. "I know, baby, I know."


DECEMBER 24, 2000
0030HRS (CST)
HARMON RABB'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC


They had remembered . . . they had mourned . . . and they had shared what only two souls who truly loved could share with one another. Two friends who had become strangers and two strangers who were becoming friends again, and two friends who wanted so much more, their surfaced feelings suddenly mortared by the strength of a small little girl.

And now, as he entered his darkened apartment to pack, to leave what he now finally admitted he never wanted to be without, he slammed the door and threw his keys in self-recriminating disgust violently against the kitchen counter . . . something . . . something . . . was opening his heart and finally allowing him to 'let go'.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Harmon Rabb Jr."

He turned in shock at the recognized voice, trying to focus as the sudden light bathed the apartment to what he thought could only be an illusion. "Mom! Frank! What the hell are you doing here?"

Trish looked pointedly at Frank with feigned indignation walking into her son's waiting embrace. "If I was to tell you, you wouldn't believe a word. Let's just say, Frank suddenly had a calling, darling."

Encircled in her motherly embrace, he clung to her like he was five again, like he had on another Christmas Eve when he wasn't suppose to understand . . . but when he had recognized a great feeling of loss . . . the same feeling of loss he was somehow feeling tonight. Trish moved slightly away from him, startled by the strength of his embrace, as only a mother would know, as only a mother could feel the pain of their child. "Harm, darling, what is it?"

"It's nothing, I'm just glad to see you . . . glad you're here."

Quizzically, Trish Rabb Burnett looked at her son and knew there was more to his bear hug than the joy of their sudden and unexpected reunion, but remembering he never told all until he was good and ready. "So no regrets about spending Christmas like an icicle rather than a surfer?"

"Not a one, Mom. I couldn't be happier . . . you've gave me the greatest of all presents."

And maybe, just maybe there was to be some hope this Christmas . . .


DECEMBER 24, 2000
0800HRS CST
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


They both knew their time was limited, and they both wanted to explore all the joy and wonder that there was to feel, to touch, and to sense this Holiday Season. So with TC's list in hand, they left the apartment early on their appointed rounds to give back to the helpless, the homeless, the faithless some of the peace and the happiness they had found in each other this Christmas.

First, they visited Mercy Mission . . . in memory of Annie Louis, and distributed the small gifts that TC had picked out and wrapped with a fervor and a diligence. Turning the smallest of gifts into the most treasured of holiday cheer, as was evidenced on the faces of all who received the small bounty. With a light touch, with a soft word, with an angelic smile on her face, TC moved from one to the other handing them the small gaily-wrapped packages. They helped to feed the hungry and the destitute a Christmas breakfast . . . and they both brought a little hope, a little joy and a little faith back into the lives of the helpless and hopeless. Those who seemed to have been forgotten by the world that tried to ignore their plight and their very existence.

And TC watched as Sarah MacKenzie's hope was being revived . . .

Second, they visited the veterans at Paley Medical Center . . . in memory of Roscoe Martin, and distributed again the small gifts that TC had picked out and wrapped with a fervor and a diligence. Turning the smallest of gifts into the most treasured of holiday cheer, as was evidenced on the faces of all who received the small bundles. With a light touch, with a soft word, with an angelic smile on her face, TC moved from one to the other handing them the small gaily-wrapped packages. And all they hoped was to bring a little joy, a little caring and a little faith back into the lives of those who had served their country with honor, courage, and dignity . . . those who had given so much to so many . . . and those who seemed to have been forgotten by the nation they had served so proudly.

And TC watched as Sarah MacKenzie's hope and strength was being revived . . .

Thirdly, they visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial . . . to remember Lt. Harmon Rabb, Sr., to honor the father of the man she would always love and to honor all those who died so bravely and who would only spend another Christmas, as a memory, in the hearts of their loved ones. After Mac traced the name lovingly with her trembling fingers, she lifted TC and helped her make a "rubbing" of the inscribed name. And then together they placed the lit candle, the two white roses at the base of the granite structure . . . with quiet whispered prayers.

And TC watched as Sarah MacKenzie's hope, strength, and faith was restored . . .

As they walked back to the car in quiet silence, the setting sun creating a peaceful glow against the snow-covered city around them, TC looked up at Sarah MacKenzie as she tightened her hold on the gloved hand that held hers. "Do you see, Sarah? Do you see how much of a part of you he is, now much he will always be? His obsessions, his joys, his sorrows . . . all his memories are yours, as yours will always be his. They are memories you have made together. Shared memories of joy and of sorrow are the greatest earthly gifts of all."

"Yes, TC, I finally see. I guess I had to go back before I found the faith to go forward." Mac stopped and knelt, taking the little bundle of wisdom into her arms. "And I promise you I'll be okay when you leave; I don't clearly understand why you have to . . ."

"Try to understand that I don't want to either, but I have to, Sarah, I just have to."

With tears in her eyes, Mac nodded. " . . . I'll try to be okay . . . and I'll try to remember all Harm and I have been together."

And as the sun fought the horizon to rest till Christmas Day dawned, the smallest but brightest of stars started to rise from the east to once again cast its loving grace and light the way of those that were loved . . . that would always be loved for eternity.


1130HRS (CST)
HARMON RABB'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC


"What the hell do you mean you're not coming!"

"Renee, look I'm truly sorry. There has been a change in plans, Mom and Frank are here and . . . "

"Harmon Rabb, I don't care where they are! You have a reservation on an afternoon flight to Los Angeles, and I expect you to be on it!"

"Renee, that is not going to happen. Look, maybe you can get a flight back . . . or maybe Frank can send the plane . . ."

"No! I don't want to spend Christmas in a city that is trying to imitate Antarctica. I have made plans . . . there are parties I need to attend . . . I want to spend the Holidays in LA!"

"It shouldn't matter where we spend it, as long as we . . . "

"As long as what? As long as you are there and I am here! Was this planned all along, Rabb? You asked me to spend Christmas with you and your family remember!"

The shrill screaming and her last insinuation caused Harmon Rabb's calm resolve to finally crack. "That is not what I meant! I meant that it shouldn't matter where you spend the Holidays as long as you spend them with the one you care about! And if you correctly remember, Renee, you were going to 'be' in LA anyway before any mention was made about spending Christmas with me and my parents!"

The sudden silence on the other end of the line made him hope that something he said had finally penetrated through a mind that only could comprehend the word "I". But her icy biting final response made him bristle, and he finally faced the truth . . . he "was" exactly where he wanted to be. And maybe, just maybe, if it was in his power, he would make sure "she" knew it . . . he would make sure Sarah MacKenzie understand his final truth.

"Harmon Rabb, if you are not on that flight this afternoon to spend the Holidays with me in LA, regardless where your mother and step-father are, you can just forget about 'us'! Harm, did you hear me!"

"Merry Christmas, Renee."


1530HRS
DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
WASHINGTON DC


"Food poisoning? They have food poisoning!"

Under the heated pointed glare of the bald-headed man, the reservation agent wanted to just melt into the floorboards behind the counter that separated them. She had been dealing with outraged travelers all day, but this one, this one's presence was different . . . his pointed stare made her want to come to attention and salute him for some inexplicable reason.

" . . . Yes, Sir, food poisoning. The entire crew scheduled for this flight came down with food poisoning. It would have been about 12 hours before we could have gotten another qualified crew to man this flight, if at all . . . so we had to unfortunately cancel the flight. But we have gone ahead and booked you in the first class cabin on the 26th which will have you in Naples on the . . . on the 27th of December."

"Young lady, what day is today?"

"The 24th of December, Sir."

"Exactly, and that would make tomorrow . . ."

"The 25th of December, Sir."

"And that would be?"

"Christmas Day, Sir."

"Then why in the hell would I want to leave on the 26th of December to get there on the 27th of December!"

"To celebrate the New Year in Italy, Sir . . . "

"AJ, please, lets just . . ."

"No, Sydney! We are going to get on a flight tonight! Aren't we, miss?

"I'm afraid that is not going to happen . . . Sir."

AJ was now gripping the counter, his knuckles white with rage, as he continued to stare at the young woman, still immersed in disbelief that he was going to miss another Christmas with Franchesca . . . miss another Christmas with his family.

As Sydney caught the approaching Airport Police coming toward them out of the corner of her eye, she slipped quickly between AJ and the counter, confirmed their flight for the 26th of December and guided the sputtering stoic Admiral away from the reservation desk.

"Sydney! Look, all I wanted to do was spend Christmas with my family, our family. With you and Franchesca . . . why would you . . ."

"Because your blustering, though more than justified, was not going to get us on a flight to Italy, at least not tonight, but it could have very possibly landed us a night in jail! This isn't the Navy, AJ, Admiral's Privilege is worth about as much as a wooden nickel here." Seeing the anger turn to extreme disappointment in his eyes, and hearing the defeat in his voice, her heart ached for him.

"I just wanted this Christmas to be perfect . . . to be . . ."

"It will be, I promise, and the New Year will be spent in Italy with Franchesca." Guiding him back out of the terminal toward the parking lot, she smiled. "We will spend Christmas with your family this year . . . with our extended family."

Being salved by her beautiful smile and comprehending the meaning in her words, the normally stoic Judge Advocate General softened and put his arm around her shoulder as they walked toward the parking garage. "But they all had plans out of town . . . they won't be here."

"We'll see. We'll just see. All we need is a little faith, AJ."


1700HRS (CST)
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


Mac watched with an immense peacefulness as TC ran around the apartment lighting all that was to be lighted, adjusting all that was to be adjusted and once again bringing her apartment alive with the sounds, scents, and sights of the joyous Holiday Season. Infused with a thankfulness for a day well spent, her gaze fell on the serene Nativity Scene that once again glowed with a surreal essence . . . an essence, a life all its own.

"TC, get out of those wet things . . . and . . ." Mac turned to see TC still dressed kneeling by the Christmas tree, her small arms wrapped tightly around Jingo, whispering words into the dog's floppy ears, for him only to hear.

"Come on Kiddo . . . change out of . . ." Mac's words trailed off as the sound of the doorbell interrupted her. And when she saw TC, her bundle from heaven, stand and walk toward her, the child's words of goodbye cut through her like a knife.

"It's time, Sarah. It's time for me to leave. It's time for me to go home. Remember the faith, remember the trust, remember the memories and always, always, remember to love . . . for life without the joy and sorrow of that which true love brings, is just an empty shell, a void of single solitude, a half of a whole. For this is what I will leave you with . . . my gift to you . . . And tell them for me, tell them I will always remember and I will always love them . . . as long as I shine."


1930HRS (CST)
HARMON RABB'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC


"Harm, what is it?" Trish watched as her son slammed the phone back into its cradle for the fifth time in as many hours. "Harm?"

"I've been calling her and leaving messages all day, and she hasn't returned one!"

"Well, not that I was eavesdropping, darling, but from what I could overhear she appeared quite upset when you spoke to her earlier this morning." Trish Rabb Burnett didn't understand her son's apparent concern over someone that she personally found more plastic then a Tupperware party . . . but he was an adult, it was his life, and if the explosion of fur made him happy, she would bite her tongue until he came to his male senses.

"What?"

"I feel just awful that our plans have made you and Renee have to spend the holidays apart, and I wish there was something I could do to . . . "

"Not Renee, Mom . . . Mac!"

"Oh. I had no idea that . . . "

"Neither did I, Mom . . . neither did I. Something is wrong. I'm going over there." Grabbing his coat and his keys, Harm was out the door in seconds, only one thing . . . one person on his mind.

As Trish witnessed the flurry of activity, heard the concern in her son's voice, and watched the door close quietly behind him, a smile of satisfaction crossed her elegant features.

"What's happening? Where did Harm go in such a hurry? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Frank. He's seemed to have found the strength, he's seemed to have found the faith, he's seemed to have found the trust and now he's going to find the love . . . "

"What?"

"Trust me Frank, a mother knows these things. A mother just knows."


2000HRS (CST)
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


The festive atmosphere that they had created together with love and so much hope . . . the small child filled with so much wisdom and the adult filled, at first, with so much pain, swirled in fading patterns around the strong Marine trying to shine through her moments of anguish. But there was suddenly no soothing solace, no earthly peace, and no lasting faith for Sarah MacKenzie as she sat in front of the fire, sobbing uncontrollably, the letter and the small golden angel guarded tightly in her hands.

The incessant ringing of the phone had gone unanswered, the message light blinking had gone ignored and now the ceaseless chiming of the doorbell and the unending banging on the door went unnoticed as Sarah MacKenzie sat cloistered in her world of all-consuming sudden grief.

Still sobbing uncontrollably in the festive darkness, still clutching the now tear-stained letter and the small golden angel tightly in her hands . . . she never heard him enter, she never felt his presence, until he knelt by her and took her trembling body into his strong embrace, whispering words of calming comfort and words of unspoken love.

He didn't ask and she didn't offer the words that just seemed too painful for her to utter just yet, so he just held her in his arms tenderly, trying to supportively soothe the woman he still silently loved, while his own heart was breaking because of her unraveling silent agony.

An hour passed, her hugging him tightly as he just continued to hold her, before the sobs subsided into mere pained weeping whispers. Harm caressed her tear-stricken face and lovingly lifted it so she could see the support and concern in his eyes. "Sarah, tell me, please. Talk to me."

"She's gone, Harm . . . she's . . . she's . . . gone away. They just came, and she left with them . . . she left again. She left us all again." Mac's lips quivered, and her tears started to follow the trail of all the others again, the finally spoken words assigning credence to the aching truth that filled her heart. She tried to look away, but she felt his hand, firm but tender, restrain her movement to lose herself again in her agony . . . only to be engulfed by his comforting warmth once more.

"Who, Sarah? TC? Did Social Services come and take her?" Confused at the exact meaning of the words spoken through the pain, he tightened his arms around her when he felt her start to tremble again. "Tell me, please."

"She's . . ." There were no spoken words that could clearly explain what she wanted to express, what she wanted him to understand . . . so with her eyes brimming with new unshed tears, she simply handed him the now crumpled tear-soaked paper.

With Mac's eyes locked on his, she rested in his embrace, exhausted, as he read what she handed him . . . as he read the prophetic words of goodbye.

  They gave me your name
When I couldn't see
Protected and loved
It was just Mommy and me

They gave me your name
When I couldn't see
But still felt the love
You'd all instilled in me

They gave me your name
When we couldn't see
That God had a purpose
Much greater for me

They gave me your name
When we couldn't see
The importance my leaving
And my coming back would be

They gave me your name
And now you must see
The strength in the love
I've imparted to thee
To give you the faith
To trust in your minds
That the love in your hearts
Is as ageless as time

Together you'll gathered
First on this holy of nights
To gain all the strength
From God's smallest of lights

You'll walk in the light
With me by your sides
Your Guardian Angel
I'll act as your guide

And now I must leave
For my task here is done
But remember the love
From all heavens above

And for Mommy and Daddy
You'll make them both see
Our shared love though brief
Was the greatest blessing to me

The brightest of stars
For all ages to come
Forever I'll shine
In the heavens above
To bring one the faith
To bring one the peace
To bring one the truth
Of God's loving embrace
Lovingly your Guardian Angel
Sarah

He was a Naval Officer of great courage, two Navy Crosses evidence of his heroism. He was a Naval Officer of great personal strength, never wavering from the weak and the indigent, often their causes becoming his own obsessions to find the necessary truth. But this was neither a time for courage nor a time for strength for Harmon Rabb, unable to fasten his emotional shield in place any longer, he felt his own warm tears fall unabated as he continued to hold the woman he loved, finally letting go of his own grief.

For almost two months, the strong Marine Colonel and the poised Navy Commander had grieved privately in their own separate solitude for the precious life that had been taken from them . . . and for their friends who had suffered the greatest of all losses, the loss of a child. Both with an inordinate ability to shield themselves from the eyes of others, they grieved in the empty solitude of their individual loneliness, without the faith to share the feelings with each other as they would have done in past times . . . until this night. Until this night when the visit of a blessed special child, entrusted with the wisdom of the ages, fostered the faith that was, exposed the trust that was, unveiled the love that was, and brought to light their acceptance of the true miracle that had touched their lives.


CHRISTMAS DAY
0900HRS (CST)
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN DC


Wrapped in each other's arms, they expressed their grief in the silence of shed tears until exhaustion lulled them to sleep in the quiet stillness of each other's arms . . . their personal loneliness forever being chased away by each other's warming and calming presence and their revived unspoken emotional bond.

Harm was the first to stir. Careful not to wake Mac, he extricated himself carefully from her embrace as he placed a small tender kiss against her forehead. Standing, he glanced at the festive surroundings of Christmas hope as he walked to the bathroom. As he stared at himself in the reflective glass, the mirror didn't lie . . . and he realized the dream had been real. He remembered the greatest of losses and yet felt the quiet grace of restored peace, like a small hand still tugged at his heart, the wisdom of the innocent still filled his mind, and he understood the greatest of all truths . . . that there was a purpose unto heaven.


The "rubbing" from the Wall they had visited together, the tear-stained letter of goodbye and the smallest of golden angels, given to her with love, were the first things that Sarah MacKenzie focused on when she awoke . . . surrounded by the Holiday dreamland they had created together. When she reached out and gently caressed all that was left, her eyes were drawn, like a moth to an open flame, to the chair where he sat staring at her, with so many emotions passing like kaleidoscopic hues through his green-blue eyes.

As she stared at him, lost in the reflective pools, his eyes held no lies . . . and she realized the dream had been real. She remembered the greatest of losses and yet felt the quiet grace of a restored peace, like a small hand still tugged at her heart and the wisdom of the innocent still filled her mind, and she understood the greatest of all truths . . . there was a purpose unto heaven.

Without a word, she watched as he moved to the kitchen and returned to her side, placing a cup of steaming coffee in her hands as he sat next to her on the arm of the sofa. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, and if you're wondering, I had a change of clothes in the SUV. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Always prepared. Or was it a presumption on your part, Sailor?"

"A little of both. Mac, we have to talk about what happened."

His mere strong presence and the peace left by a small gift from God were enough for her to regain some of her self-resolve. She knew this was somehow like another death she would have to in some way accept, that she would have to in some way understand, and that she would in some way have to face, ultimately . . . for now, it was finally a time to remember and a time to mourn. It was no longer a time to hide, to run, to bury herself in her work . . . and not to acknowledge Baby Sarah's death, nor her miraculous return, but she was so afraid. "I guess I lost it last night."

"That you did . . . but we both did."

"Harm, how could . . . I don't understand . . . why us?" With entreating conviction, she finally found the strength to catch his eyes with hers, holding them in a pleading quiet stare of unsettled confusion. But when she focused on his, she saw the fluttering light of some comprehension.

"Mac . . . I don't have all the answers . . . hell, I don't even know if I have any answers . . . that make any sense of this. But I think I can answer the 'why us.'" Before Harm continued, he eased himself onto the sofa and took her hands in his. "Why us? Because you and I, Sarah MacKenzie, had never allowed ourselves to truly grieve for that little one . . . until last night."

"Harm, you and I were with Harriet and Bud, every step of the way . . . we . . ."

"Mac, their pain was our pain, though neither of us can ever profess to understand what it means to lose a child . . . but we didn't allow ourselves to mourn the loss that we felt . . . until . . ."

"Are you saying she . . . she came back to punish us for not caring enough?" Incredulous, Mac's pleading eyes threatened to spill the accumulating hot tears, again, as they teetered precariously on the edges of her lower lashes.

"Oh, God no, Sarah." Harm knelt in front of her, his hand brushing away the few tears that had escaped. "You are the strongest, most intelligent, most competent, most honest . . . "

"Rah, Rah, for me. That's me one hell of a Marine." She offered him the weakest of smiles, thickly hung with her sarcasm, as the new tears started to follow the trail of their predecessors.

" . . . Most loving and most caring person that I have been privileged to know." Harm caressed her face, trying to absorb some of her pain, and only when he felt her hand encase his, did he continue. "I think TC . . . Sarah came back to give us the faith to . . . "

" . . . To look back so we could move forward."

"Exactly. Before I left to return to . . ."

" . . . before you left me, you mean."

"Mac, please . . . I never left you . . . I left to close another chapter in my life."

"I know . . . I know . . . I'm sorry . . . finish."

"For three years before I left, we shared everything. We shared our joys, our sorrows, our strengths, and our weaknesses . . . we shared more than what friends simply share. And we were able to deal with all the bumps in the road . . . all the twists and turns fate handed us . . . each of us a half that made up a greater whole. But since I returned to JAG . . . "

"We've shared nothing. Nothing at all." Mac stood and moved away, unable to think clearly surrounded by his closeness and his warming touch.

Harm ached inside as he watched her move from his touch, the distance now between them a burning reminder of how far they had come and how far apart they still appeared to be. But he had to somehow make her understand . . . understand all the emotions that had swirled to the surface. "We've both become masters at running and hiding from the truth, at unintentionally hurting each other . . . and at burying our feelings as if they were nuts to a squirrel, never to find them even when they were most needed. We hid behind military protocol and propriety like it could shield us from the past, from the present . . . like it would shield us from everything and anything that we both needed, no wanted."

"Harm, what are you . . . " Her mind dared to allow her heart to hope.

"Sarah's death was the single most tragic thing we have had to face since I returned . . . and we tried to deal with it alone . . . alone with partners that never would or could dissolve our pain, our grief . . . partners that could never help us heal and make us whole again."

"And TC came to help us heal . . . to show us the way?"

"TC came to us as a miracle from God, to help us deal with our hidden grief, to give us the faith, to give us the ability to trust again . . . to give us enough faith and unwavering trust to love."

"So what you're saying is that finally, finally, because of our little miracle from heaven, you're ready to commit yourself . . . no that you're ready to give your heart to me?"

"Yes."

"With no reservations."

"I've never been more certain; I've never been more sure."

"And Renee?"

"Gone."

She moved closer to him, all the nagging doubts in her mind fighting the growing need in her heart. "For as long as I can remember, you were all I ever wanted in a man. I thought you saw all I was and all I ever wanted to be with only you by my side. One look from you had me trembling like a little girl, and all I ever wanted was to believe that you could fall in love with me . . . that you wanted me as much as I wanted you. And then . . . then with a few spoken words . . . a few well chosen biting words . . . you took my heart, no you took my soul, and drained it of all the hope, drained it of all the love . . . and cast it aside for a personal agenda I didn't understand."

"And you don't think your personal agenda did that to me? You don't think accepting Brumby's ring did that to me?"

"To tell you the truth, I didn't know what it did to you. I didn't know who you were anymore. For all we had shared . . . we had nothing left . . . nothing left except fading memories of two people who had laughed and cried together . . . two people who would have died for one another . . . and two people who became strangers on that ferry ride across Sydney Harbor."

"Are you saying that you don't feel . . ." The fear of another loss flashed through Harm's mind, and he dreaded that he had once again been too late . . . too late to save a love.

"No . . . I won't ever again deny that I love you, and I do. You have been the most tender part of my past, yet at the same time the most painful part of my present . . . and I'm afraid to imagine a future with you . . . because how would I survive if you ever left? You would take away everything good from my life. I would be lost if I lost you. How could I take another breath without you . . . if I experienced your love only to lose it." She trembled visibly at the thought of loving him and shuddered visibly at the thought of losing him, and before she knew what was happening, he had closed the distance between them.

"You listen to me, Sarah MacKenzie. I need you in my arms to hold. You're my world, my heart, my soul . . . and I won't lose the greatest love to the fear of what might happen, to the lack of faith in what will be, and to a lack of trust, on your part, that you are anything less than the sun in my sky and that you are not all I want for eternity." With the swiftest of movements, Harm took Mac in his arms, his lips found hers with a force, a gentle force that seemed to try and convey to her the depth of his love. All the feelings that had been building deep inside him, tossed and twisted on a sea of doubts, crying for release to try and prove that the strength of their love would last for eternity.

After all the might-of-beens, after all the should-have-beens, after all the try-agains, and after all the close and distant calls, she was still afraid to share in what fate had finally given her a glimpse of. But the words of wisdom spoken by a small child chimed magically in her mind and seemed to guide her into his arms with a gentle hand. She molded to his warmth, to his passion and to his silent, unspoken vows of the purest of all loves . . . all mingled in a single, simple, earth shattering kiss, guided by the hand of the smallest of angels.

Breaking away from their silent vows, trembling with needs for only one, Mac stepped back, breathless. "I can't deal with this right now. I can't deal with any of this right now. There is only one place I want to go today . . . and if all you've said is true . . . you'll want to be there with me."

"I would hang the stars and grab the moon for you, Sarah, if you asked me to."


1145HRS (CST)
OUR LADY OF SORROWS CEMETARY
MCCLEAN VA


They had driven in a quiet silence, Mac amazed that he knew exactly where she wanted to go without a spoken word. They made their way down the snow-covered path to their destination, hand in hand, something so natural that yet felt so strange. She had walked the path alone, each week since the funeral only to mechanically go through the same ritual, in solemn remembrance alone, without a tear. But this day was different; she finally had the man she had always loved by her side.

Once they had reached the small grave, she knelt in the snow and cleaned the small drifts that had accumulated on the tiny pink granite stone, Harm standing silently at her side, her gloved hand still in his, while he held the two bouquets of mixed pink and white roses.

"You know, I always wondered why there were four canisters filled with fresh flowers every Sunday when I've visited . . ."

"So have we Ma'am. So have we always wondered, and I guess now we know."

Harm helped Mac to her feet, both turning to see Harriet and Bud, holding baby AJ, appear through the cluster of hedges that surrounded Baby Sarah's resting place. "Harriet! Bud! I thought you had left for Florida to spend the Holidays with your parents."

"We were going to Ma'am," Harriet looked over at Bud with a hint of a smile, "but we decided to stay here, stay home with all our family. You've been coming weekly and bringing the roses to Sarah, haven't you?"

"We both have. It seems Mac and I have been coming each week, together but alone." When his attention turned toward Mac, felt her tighten her hold on his hand, and saw the silent tear slip down her cheek, he knew that she was finding her way . . . and he never felt so alive.

Mac and Harm stood back and let Bud and Harriet visit their daughter on her first Christmas Day. With tears of loss and regret in their eyes, whispered prayers of parental love on their lips, an inexplicable serene calm that seemed to emanate from them, as they held each other in a warm embrace with AJ nestled between them.

It was a scene of immense sorrow for what they had lost, but foremost, it was a strengthening scene depicting the power of family unity. A family unit that was cornerstoned by faith, built on trust and mortared by love for what had been, for what now was, and for what would be in the future. Their love had created a miracle, and that love, through the best and the worst of times, was strengthened by the triumphs they had shared together and also by the tragedies that had intruded unwelcomed into their lives. The tragedies that only real life can bestow on a mortal life and that can only be weathered when two parts share the anguish as one whole.

After arranging the new roses in the four canisters of remembrance, the foursome walked back to their cars, and Sarah MacKenzie held on to her two lifelines, AJ firmly entrenched in her arms and Harmon Rabb's hand still intertwined with hers. They talked of love, they talked of loss and they talked of the baby they had all loved and they had all lost, but Harm and Mac never mentioned the great gift they had been given this Christmas . . . they never mentioned the visitation of the smallest, yet greatest of angels.

As Harm and Bud moved away to help another cemetery visitor who had gotten their car caught on a precarious patch of ice, Mac and Harriet stood in comfortable companionship and quiet conversation.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"Harriet, it's Mac when we're not in uniform. Thank me for what?"

"For coming to see Baby Sarah each week, for being our friend, for all the support, comfort and understanding you've shown Bud and I . . . and for being the best godmother we could have ever chosen for AJ. Helping us get through this difficult time in our lives. Without you, the Commander and the Admiral, I don't know how we . . ."

"Harriet, how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Find the faith . . . the strength to go on after all that has happened? Where do you find the strength to put your life back in order . . . to bring your life back to normal?"

Harriet smiled the sweetest of smiles as she took a squirming AJ from his godmother's arms. "Life will never return to normal for us. After the loss of Sarah, life as we knew it, well, was buried with her. But in its place, we have found the courage to establish what I call a 'new normal,' and she will always be a part of our family and our life. Pain from the past is something that should never be forgotten; it is something that helps teach us life's lessons and makes us stronger to face the 'new norm.' If any of us are to survive and build a future, we must have faith to trust and faith to believe that there is a true purpose for all the joy and all the sorrow that life throws our way."

As Harriet fell silent and they turned their attention to the whirling of tires on the slick pavement and the spitting of ice as the car was freed, Sarah MacKenzie remembered the words of wisdom . . . <Remember the faith, remember the trust, remember the memories and always, always, remember to love . . . for life without the joy and sorrow of that which true love brings, is just an empty shell, a void of single solitude, a half of a whole.> And as the men approached them, once again she was surrounded with an all consuming peace that helped her regain her resolve . . . and for once in a very long time, she knew what she had to do.

"Ready?"

"As three icicles can be."

"Then let's go. Bud has agreed, if it's all right with you Harriet, to come by your place, Mac, for a little Christmas Cheer."

Seeing Harriet's silent nod and smile, they started their drive back into the city to celebrate all they had and all they would have on this special of Christmas Days.

"Harm, I hate to burst your Holiday bubble, but I have very little to offer in the way of 'Christmas Cheer'. TC . . . Sarah and I were planning to . . . " Her voice trailed off, as this time the happiest of memories assaulted her mind only to reinforce her heart.

"Ye of little faith. Don't you believe in Santa Claus, Marine?"


1400HRS (CST)
SARAH MACKENZIE'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC


The minute the foursome, with AJ teetering excitedly ahead, entered the hallway to Mac's apartment, their senses were filled with the most delicious smells of the Christmas Season, all seeming to come from her apartment, carried on the air and the sounds of the music of the season. With an amount of questioning confusion, she opened her apartment door, only to once again enter her winter wonderland, this time complete with the Admiral, Sydney, Frank and Trish.

"What . . ."

"See, Sarah MacKenzie, there really is a Santa Claus." Harm cupped her face and brushed the whisper of a kiss across her lips. "Merry Christmas, Marine. I love you."

An anticipated tender kiss that did not go unnoticed by anyone this special of all days. Nor did the softly-grumbled comment of the Admiral. "It's about damn time. Damn time."


As they all gathered at the festively-decorated table to share the conspiratorial feast that Trish and Sydney had prepared at the request of one obsessive Naval Officer, they all joined hands as a family, and each expressed their thanks for the blessings they had been given. And as each voiced their personal thanks for the blessings that had rained from the heavens, the individual candles in front of each of them shone brightly and created their own "Circle of Light."

Clasping AJ's hand, Sydney began the circle. "I'm thankful for my son's recovery and for the man that loved me enough, to never give up on me, to never give up on us, and who was instrumental in helping me see the truth. I'm thankful for his support, for his guidance and for the depth of his love in making the three of us a family unit of strength."

AJ, normally a man of few words, always trying to avoid any public expression of personal emotion, was so touched by Sydney's words that he attempted to put into words that which he held in his heart. "I thought there was no personal future for me outside of the military until a friend's erectil dysfunction brought me to the place in my life I am today." Small chuckles were heard around the table, but were silenced immediately by the Admiral's authoritative sweeping stare before he continued. "And . . . I thank God for providing me with the greatest of all gifts this Holiday Season, the support of true friends and the love of an incredible woman. That will be all."

As if picking up the command, Trish was the next to go, squeezing the Admiral's hand in silent support. With a smile of elegance, she began. "In my years, I have had my share of sorrow, but I have also had more joys than anyone should be afforded. I am thankful for my son. His strength, his honor, his integrity and his courage have made me proud to be his mother, and I know that his father's heart swells with the same pride as he now rests in peace, always with a place in our hearts forever. I am thankful for the man who gave me the faith to love again, with his understanding, his support and his never-ending compassion in making a home for me and my son, as if he were his own."

She stopped and placed a tender kiss on her husband's hand, her eyes filled with tears of love as she went on. "And this year, I am thankful to see the light of true love finally in my son's eyes also, for a woman who shares an equal strength, an equal honor, an equal integrity and an equal courage. A woman whom I would be proud to call 'my daughter.'" Trish gave Mac a smile of motherly reassurance when she saw the single tear trail down her cheek and a silent thank you pass over her lips. When she saw Mac hold on tighter to her son's hand, Trish was the first to witness the slightest twinkle emanate from the littlest of gold angels that Mac wore on a delicate chain around her neck.

Frank Burnett watched the silent exchange between the two women and expressed his own silent thanks for bringing Trish Rabb into his life, before trying to vocalize all that he felt in his heart. "I have no words to adequately express all the joy that my wife has brought into my life over the years. And as we approach our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary all I can say is thank you, my love, for trusting me enough to give me your heart and for trusting me enough to let me help raise your son as if he were my own. And with all my heart, I look forward to the next twenty-five years with my family by my side."

When the circle came to Harriet and Bud, they decided to express their thanks together. With his arm firmly around his wife's shoulder and Baby AJ securely in his lap, he smiled wistfully at their extended family that congregated around them this Christmas Day. "For Harriet, Baby AJ and I, this year has been full of so much joy and so much sorrow. Feelings of hope and hopelessness have taken us down a road we thought we would never have to travel. We wanted to forget, and we wanted to remember. We wanted to find out the 'whys' so we could assign blame, thinking that the reasons why Baby Sarah was no longer with us would somehow stop our suffering." Bud quieted and took a breath, wanting to continue, but so shaken visibly he just couldn't go on.

So with a loving touch of her gentle fingers against Bud's lips, Harriet proceeded, her own voice filled with equal emotion, but also with a purposeful conviction. "We wanted something, anything to help stop our anguish and return our life to normal. But we painfully realized that nothing in our world would ever be normal again, so we stopped burying the memories, stopped wondering about the 'whys' and created a 'new normal' that would always keep Baby Sarah alive in our hearts and in our minds. A 'new normal' that renewed our love for one and other and our love for the little angel that had been taken from us. Baby Sarah will always be daddy's little girl, she will always be AJ's baby sister and she will always be the precious miracle that grew inside me for nine months."

Wiping the tears that ran down her face, Harriet went on with a trembling smile of remembrance. "So we are thankful for the strength, the love, and the faith we've been given to help rebuild our lives, with Baby Sarah's memory alive always and forever. And we are thankful for our friends, for their compassion, for their support and mainly for the love they shared with us during our most difficult time."

A hushed silence fell over the festive room, as the table candlelight glistened against the shed and unshed tears. Even the Admiral, always in control had tears of both sorrow and joy in his eyes as he concentrated his attention on the strong young Lieutenants, who made him so proud. Harriet looked to her right at Harm. "It's your turn, Harm."

Before Harm started, he looked at Mac, her tears his tears, her fears his fears, and he hated the time they had wasted . . . the time he had wasted. And now he knew as much as it was a time for thankfulness, it was also the time for a declaration of love and commitment in front of his friends and his family. "I am thankful for my yesterdays, for my mother's love and for Frank's devotion to us both. I never made it easy, Frank, and I thank you for never giving up on me." He looked over at his mother and Frank, her pride reflected in her husband's eyes as they held hands. Her silent nod appeared to give him the added courage he needed to continue . . . she knew, she always knew.

Turning toward Mac, he took both her hands in his. "I'm thankful that I have finally had the good sense to realize now fortunate I am to have had you by my side, Sarah, for all these years. For all we have been, we have been together. For all that we are, we are together. For all I hope to be, I can only be with you by my side, a part of my life, if you'll let me. My days have always been brighter because of you, my burdens have always been lighter because of you, and I'll always be able to find the silver lining in any clouds, with you by side. My yesterdays have been yours, my todays are yours, and I pledge to show you tomorrows only filled with a world of rainbows where the mountains will always touch the sky, as long as we stand our ground together, two unique parts making up one whole. I am most thankful for you, Sarah MacKenzie . . . "

When Harm finished he leaned over and tenderly kissed her, a gentle touch of his lips to hers. And suddenly it was as if the heavens stilled, no longer did a thousand angels cry and she felt the gentle hand that was guiding them . . . her to him and him to her.

Stunned and shaken by his openness and all that his heartfelt words appeared to represent, she took a cleansing breath before she spoke, her fingers still intertwined with his. "I'm thankful for all of you who have accepted me for who I am, not for who I was, and have given me the love and support of an extended family when I never had loving family memories of my own to recall. It seems throughout my life, every time I borrowed from the sunshine, my skies turned gray and stormed. I have come to terms with my yesterdays, with all your help, but there are many things about my todays and tomorrows that I don't seem to understand. But I know who has held my heart in all my yesterdays, with his silent support, compassion and strength. He has been my calm in more than one storm, my shining lighthouse against the darkness of my storm tossed life. And I, too, am thankful for you, Harmon Rabb, and when I find the strength to untangle my heart, I know it will find its way to you again . . . always and only to you." Seeing how difficult the words were coming to Mac, Harm cleared his throat and offered a toast to compliment all that had been expressed. "To friendship, to family, to love, and to our littlest angel who has left us in life . . . but who will remain as a blessed memory in our hearts forever." "To friendship, to family, to love and to Baby Sarah." All around the table raised their glasses with visible emotion, in honor of friendship, in honor of family, in honor of love and most importantly in honor of Baby Sarah, now another one of God's littlest angels. As Harm raised his glass, he wrapped his arm around Mac's shoulder. And when she leaned into his strength, a bright essence once again emanated from the tiniest of golden angels she wore around her neck . . . a gift of faith, a gift of trust, a gift of love, a gift from above. And that bright essence reflected against the mirror over the fireplace and hung the smallest and brightest of all stars over the Nativity Scene that was serenely nestled on the mantel . . . for another year on earth had passed. Love and faith were once again restored, guided by the hand of the smallest of God's blessed creatures and the newest and brightest of his eternal stars.

And as Sarah MacKenzie's attention was captivated by the smallest of stars that now celestially appeared over the mantle, she remembered the words of promise again and the tangle that had been her heart was finally freed forever. <Remember the faith, remember the trust, remember the memories and always, always, remember to love . . . for life without the joy and sorrow of that which true love brings, is just an empty shell, a void of single solitude, a half of a whole.>


As Christmas Day came to a close, they all said their good byes, each in their own way realizing everything they had to be thankful for at this time in their lives, bound together by friendship, family, love and the brief presence of a small child.

Turning towards Mac, Harm placed a gentle kiss against her lips as he held her securely in his arms. " I guess I should head out too and let you get some rest."

"Harm . . ."

"I know, Sarah, I know. There are stars in the heavens that we'll never hold again, but if faith gives you the will to let you love me again then I'm strong enough to wait for as long as it takes. I swear I'll never give up till you trust me enough to give me your heart."

"Harm . . ."

"But believe this, Marine, I'll do all that I can to catch any ghost of a chance . . . that I'll have your heart again . . . anything and everything within my power . . . and you know I never make a promise I don't intend to keep."

"Harm . . . I . . ."

"If good things come to those that wait, I'm one obsessive Sailor, and I can wait. Because eternity with you in my arms, your love in my heart and you in my future is all I can imagine, Marine . . . "

"Harm!"

"What?"

"I just wanted to know if you had another change of clothes in the SUV." A small smile played at the corner of her lips, at hearing his babbling. Her eyes twinkled with promise in the candlelight, and a sign of audible satisfaction escaped her as she noticed the spark of sudden recognition in his brilliant eyes.


She spoke their names and the world began again; she touched their hearts and they learned to trust; like a miracle out of the blue she rescued them like the angels do, she shook the heavens and cracked the sky when she walked, when she walked into their lives . . .


End Circle of Light


Author's PostScript


The "Circle of Light," is actually called "National Children's Memorial Day" and is held throughout the world at 1900HRS local time on the second Sunday in December each year, sponsored by an organization called "The Compassionate Friends". This non-profit group offers support for families who have lost children and perform the "Candle Lighting Memorial" in loving remembrance of all children who have passed. The light encircles the Earth on that day creating, a twenty-four-hour memorial.

In my mind and heart, the term "child" is not reflected by mere years in the hearts of a parent or a loved one. My daughter is approaching 30, and she will always be a "child" to me.

So this story is dedicated to all the parents who have lost a child, and to all the children who have passed, in a time of war, in a time of peace, in a time of sickness and in a time of health.

And this is why this year, my Christmas Story is especially dedicated to the parents of the sailors who lost their lives on the USS Cole . . . and to the children who have passed in a time of peace serving our country courageously, taken tragically by an act of senseless terrorism fueled by ignorant hatred.

So on the second Sunday of December at 1900HRS local time, this year, if you can take a moment to light a candle in memorial at home and participate in "National Children's Memorial Day" . . . and be part of the loving light that will encircle the world once again this year.

Happy Holidays to All!