It was an early December day in 1968. There was no snow. It was hot, and we were surrounded by water. We had been off the coast of Vietnam for several weeks, involved in search-and-rescue operations and naval gunfire support missions. Every few nights we would race at high speed to join a replenishment group to replace our depleted supplies of food, parts, ammunition, and fuel. This underway replenishment normally took most of the night. We were averaging about four hours of sleep a day.
At midnight on that December day, we were detached from our duties and ordered back to our home port in southern California. I was the officer of the deck that night as we turned eastward. It was a moonlit evening, and the sea was calm. As the ship completed its turn and settled on an easterly course, I became aware of a very bright star in the night sky before me. Though tired and having difficulty keeping my eyes open, I thought about the three wise men following a star they had seen in the East to the place of Jesus' birth. And I felt a great sense of safety and peace—a conviction that there was something wonderful in place of what had been happening during the past five months.
We arrived home on December 20. Christmas that year was very special. Our children were still young, and there were gifts. But for me the real glory of that season was a feeling of love, gratitude, humility, and of the need to know that I was embraced within God's care. I can still recall that feeling even now.
