This is a scene from my current novel Kathryn’s Hero. Kathryn is a thirteen-year-old girl who has made it through eleven of the fifteen months of her brother’s deployment to Afghanistan. This is the family’s first Christmas where they’ve ever been apart.

While her brother’s deployed, Kathryn is working on a project called Operation Support—where she does things that support the troops from the homefront. One of her items is to light a candle each week and say a prayer for Michael and his men—hence the reference in the text to “candles forty-nine and fifty”

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I squeezed into the pew next to my cousin, Mary Ann. The church was packed. Between cookie-making and last-minute-present-wrapping, Christmas Eve had flown by. In a few minutes, it would be midnight. It was already Christmas morning in Afghanistan. I wondered if Michael had gotten to sleep in. He loved to sleep in Christmas morning. I swear part of the reason was just to annoy me. He’d test my patience, seeing just how long it took before I’d come and drag him out of bed. If he were here this Christmas, I’d let him sleep all day if he wanted.

I elbowed Mary Ann. “Hey. Do you know if Aunt Rebecca got me makeup?” Mary Ann had put a little blush and eye shadow on me right before we left. Mom had been too busy to notice until we entered the church. I figured Mom might not let me buy makeup, but if someone gave it to me as a gift that was whole different story.

“I’m not telling. Now, shush, mass is starting,” Mary Ann said, standing up with everyone else as the organist began to play. She was grinning though, so I knew someone had.

During the prayer offering, Father Thomas said a special prayer for the deployed soldiers, and I silently added my own for Michael. Mary Ann and I sang along to Hark the Herald Angels Sing, very loudly and very off-key with the congregation as the priest concluded the mass.

I waited for the church to empty out then made my way up front to a stand of candles in a little alcove. I lit two, numbers forty-nine and fifty since Michael had left. I hadn’t missed a single Sunday. Tonight, I lit the extra one for all the soldiers away from home. Everything about this year was different. I’d always lit candles for baby Jesus, for those less fortunate than me, and for those in need. This year, my candle prayer was much more personal. “God. I know you’re busy, but can you spend a little extra time watching over all the soldiers tonight? Especially Michael. Please? Thanks.”

Mom wrapped her arms around me from behind. “Don’t worry Kathryn. He’s working overtime for Michael.”

I leaned back in Mom’s arms and watched the flame flicker in the dim light of the church, as I blinked back tears. “Merry Christmas, Michael.”

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