On the third of October, Kenneth Sanderson moved to San Juan Island with his three kids. It was exactly one month after Susan had died from a long illness. He justified his decision to move them as a way of helping his children heal from the trauma of losing their mother and also to escape the supreme sadness that had settled in his heart and over their home.

That moving day, as the truck pulled away from their old house carrying their few household belongings, the four remaining family members are leaving behind their old neighbors and school friends on the mainland.

It is a typical Northwest grey day when everything looks like a black and white picture, rain squalls carrying thin sheets of rain across the water and land. Today is the kind of day best appreciated inside, crackling fire in the fireplace, smelling the sweet rich aroma of a steaming cup of hot chocolate which, not so incidentally in the Northwest, also warms your hands.

Kenneth and his three kids are moving to a cabin on a little more than two acres of land near the town of Friday Harbor. The girl and two boys are 8, 10 and 12.

Kenneth chose San Juan Island because of its sparse population scattered over a fairly large landmass surrounded by water - a perfect environment for isolation. He was thinking out of his own profound grief, and he was gratified that his kids had been very positive during their visits to the island, so it seemed that there was consensus about the relocation. Maybe it was just relief for the small family to have a diversion from their sadness, but it was enough to decide to go ahead with a move.

Kenneth was a writer by profession who had lost his will and his happiness after Susan died. In his secret thoughts he wasn't even sure he could write anymore. More than that, he just didn't want to.

He had some money stashed away from the sale of their house and the small death benefit from Susan's life insurance and that gave him a little financial breathing room, with perhaps enough wiggle room to make a mistake or two. Which helped seal the decision to move to Friday Harbor.

Now settled into their new home and acreage, there was really no reason to go anywhere, except to get necessities or for the kids to attend school.

After the memorial service, a few of Kenneth's freelance clients continued to contact him with writing projects, which he was grateful to accept but never solicited. Still, despite summoning his best attitude, he was never satisfied with his work and that gloom settled over his mind and heart darkening everything he saw or touched.

He wasn't a total recluse. Every two weeks Kenneth drove to the general store with the kids. But that was the extent of his travels outside the property. He just felt happier staying home, cloistering with his kids.

He owed them a lot. They had all suffered through Susan's illness and death, and, as their remaining parent, he took on the responsibility of walling off the outside world to keep them safe and protected in their cabin. At least for now.

Living in relative isolation felt stifling at times, but at other times it is comforting and consoling, as though there, in the cabin, on the small plot of land, on an island, he can still feel her touch, can sense the closeness that had been a great part of their life together before...

The months pass after the move and finally spring brings occasional sunny days and blooming flowers - more outside days than inside ones. With warmer weather, island kids are happier, able once more to play outdoors, all of which makes remote island living a little more bearable.

Except for the Sanderson kids.

They are insulated from the rest of island life. It's hard to make friends at school because they don't get to play with other kids outside of school. When they aren't at school, they are home, which is about a quarter mile from the nearest neighbor.

Oh, there are a few good days for them, like when their dad loads them into the Jeep for short drives around the island. But much of the time it is as if warmth and happiness has been drained from them, as though extracted from the family's bones, and those important human qualities once diminished are not easily replenished. Kenneth occasionally displays a wan smile but that is it; there is little laughter or joy in the Sanderson cabin because no one feels any happiness there.

Until the cello.

It is 8-year-old Katie who out-of-the-blue proclaims that she wants to learn to play the cello. Her mother had played the instrument and Katie remembers hearing the warm, resonate notes from her mother's hobby room on many rainy Saturdays in Bellingham. Those memories bring comfort to Katie. They are her solace, as her memory plays all the songs her mom loved. Somewhere in her secret heart Katie holds tight to the hope that adopting this love of a musical instrument can keep her mom close to her, even now.

But no one teaches cello on the island.

Katie badgers her dad until he finally asks around, locating a teacher off the island. To study, father and daughter must take the ferry to Anacortes faithfully every Saturday, walking the final one-block distance from ferry terminal to the teacher's house.

The every-Saturday commitment is one that Katie is willing to make, and one of her few times to be away from either school or home. Her father waits patiently at a Starbucks for the hour of the lesson, after which father and daughter walk back to the ferry, walk to their parked car near the terminal, and return home. All told, working with the ferry schedule, they can make the round trip with lesson in about four hours. It is Kenneth's one exclusive time with Katie.

Katie is good, she diligently practices every day. At first, the sounds are anything but musical, but despite her dissatisfaction she persists for a whole year, every day hearing the screeching instrument sound like a cat fight.

It's been said that practice doesn't make perfect, but it does make better. Katie and the cello proved that. It was confirming to Katie after the first year, when her brothers stopped screaming with their hands over their ears every time she played.

Most evenings now, the sound of cello music is heard in the cabin. Katie usually practices in her room, but it's a small cabin. On more than a few afternoons and evenings, the notes of "Bluer Than Blue" or "I Will Always Love You" drift through the small structure. It is as if her mother is playing her favorite music, sitting in her chair by the window in their old home overlooking the Puget Sound, while Katie sits on the coiled rug at her feet.

Every year the island school holds a community Christmas play with every student participating in the production. Anyone that plays an instrument is pressed into service to provide music.

The first year Katie politely declines because she cannot imagine herself playing in public, but with two years of practice behind her she finally agrees. She will play one of the carols at the holiday program. With just three months until the play, Katie diligently spends an hour every day practicing.

Kenneth still gets writing assignments, just not as many as before Susan's illness totally consumed their lives. To counter the now declining household income in their new home, he takes on labor on the side, which helps pay for cello lessons and the other extras that school kids often need. He is an adequate carpenter and soon has a few jobs from locals who respond to his small posting on the Friday Harbor store's bulletin board.

As fall rolls toward winter, school is even busier than usual with students learning their parts or practicing the music they will play at the annual community event.

And then, early in December, it's finally the night of the play.

Katie stays after school to be ready for the evening, and Kenneth is repairing the gutters on a waterfront house a few miles from the cabin. It is about dusk and he is just wrapping up the work to go home and get ready for the play when the accident happens.

He is up on the ladder when the sound of a loud explosion makes him turn to look for the source, finally spotting what looks like a pleasure craft on fire about 100 yards offshore.

He quickly slides down the ladder, races to the beach, finds a dinghy on shore tied to a log, pushes it into the now darkening water and begins rowing feverishly toward the flames.

As he gets closer, he can see that the burning boat now sits lower in the water and is threatening to sink. About thirty feet from the boat two people are hanging on to life preservers, shouting and pointing to the burning boat, causing him to change course and row to the boat. As he gets close to the craft he can make out a face through the boat's small cabin window. His heart stops. It is the face of a young girl about Katie’s age looking back with a face filled with fear and sadness.

The burning boat is sinking lower and lower. Kenneth rows alongside, jumps aboard and with superhuman, adrenaline-laced strength, yanks the stuck cabin door open. The deck is now awash as he sloshes through the doorway, unable to see but reaching out into the darkened interior. His hand feels a sweater and he instinctively grabs it and holds on, swimming his way back out through the now mostly-submerged door and on toward the dinghy. He has the little girl.

When Kenneth gets to the dinghy he pushes the girl into the boat but by now he is tired and numb from the cold water, and he is having trouble getting over the side and into the boat. Everything is infinitely harder to do because his muscles are not responding,

He begins to think that he should just let go of the side of the boat, slide under the cold, welcoming, embracing water and everything will be over. It would be so easy, and it would end the pain in his heart that he has felt every day since Susan died. After all, the young girl is safe in the boat and she will be okay until a rescue happens.

The water is almost feeling warm.

His thoughts flit to his three kids.

Jason is 14 now and in the continuing stages of turning from boy into man. His voice is changing, often sounding like a cross between a croaking frog and a soprano.

Ethan is 12. He is the quiet one. Middle child. Struggling to find his own identity between his bookend siblings.

And then there is Katie. She is now 10 and looking more like her mother every day.

Kenneth's mind replays that last day at Susan's bedside. She had looked at him through weary eyes and softly said, "Take care of the kids, Kenneth. They have a part of you and me in them. They need you to grow up." With her last words her eyes were pleading. All he could say was, "I will, I will, I will..." while choking back his emotions.

Clinging to the side of the dinghy, he realizes that he has no choice. He can't give up. He promised his beautiful wife on her deathbed that he would care for their kids. There is no other option.

With a sudden burst of energy, he climbs into the dingy, rows to the two people holding on to life vests and somehow manages to get them on board.

The four wet people now face a bigger problem. The tidal current is very dangerous in this part of the Puget Sound because the moving water swirls around the islands creating eddies and whirlpools with unpredictable changes in direction and speed. The water has already carried them a long way from the island and they are moving farther away at a good speed.

The dinghy only has oars. No warm, dry clothes, no food, no water. Just the two injured adults, their cold, wet daughter, and Kenneth. And oars.

Shaking and clinging to their little girl while he rows, the two adults tell Kenneth they had been living on the boat for the last several months. Both lost their jobs about the same time and were forced to make the small boat their temporary home. Today was supposed to be a surprise for their daughter. They had motored to the island, planning to find a mooring buoy to tie up to for the night. Their few possessions are inside their boat which is now on the bottom.

In between shivers and gasps the father explains that the boat's inboard motor died as they were motoring around the island looking for a place to moor. The dad immediately tried to restart the motor, but the motor had flooded and, in his hurry, he neglected to ventilate the engine compartment. Gas fumes must have accumulated because when he hit the ignition the back end of the boat blew up, sending pieces into the surrounding water and hurtling he and his wife overboard. They were fortunate; part of the floating debris from the boat included two life preservers. They had not been tossed far from the boat but neither could see their daughter, and both were trying desperately to get back to the burning boat when Kenneth arrived.

On the island, the school play is about to start when someone suddenly bursts through the doors of the gymnasium and yells to the assembled crowd that a boat has exploded and was on fire.

As the shock of that announcement sinks in, other people begin arriving with more news. The owners of the house where Kenneth has been working had come home to find him gone and their rowboat missing. As they drove to the school for the play, they called several neighbors. One man said he saw someone rowing out towards the burning boat, but the tide had carried both boats around the edge of the island and he lost sight of them. He called 9-1-1 but had heard nothing further.

The playgoers begin dialing neighbors to help, sharing aloud what they learned after each call. The news isn’t good.

Several islanders have gone out in boats to help the search, but it is winter and the sun goes down early in Washington state, so it is dark on the water and no one spots anything. There is yelling, flares, flashing nav lights and spotlights, hoping that any survivors will be able to call out to them. No one hears even one reply or sound.

As word spreads through the room about the drama that is unfolding, a couple of parents at the school play realize it was Katie's father who was missing, and they quickly gather around her. Other parents leave to pick up Katie's two brothers from the Sanderson cabin. When they all arrive at the school, hot cocoa is flowing, the Sanderson kids are surrounded by neighbors who they mostly have never met, and several adults try to calm the kids' anxious fears.

Finally, Principal Storz announces that the play is being postponed because of the emergency.

Not one person leaves to go home.

As school kids gather around Katie, Jason and Ethan, other parents get updates on the unfolding catastrophe.

One person reports to the crowd that the Coast Guard just came on the marine emergency channel that they are searching by airplane but have spotted nothing.

After that report the room goes quiet, and now the sound of music is heard from a far corner of the room as Katie begins to play her cello. This isn't unique for Katie. It was what she always does when she is scared or not feeling well, the sweet sounds reminding her of better days.

For the next hour Katie plays every holiday song she has ever learned except for the carol she has been practicing for the play. The low, soothing melodies from her dark wooden instrument help calm the anxious crowd.

Finally, at 9 pm, when people are discussing who will take the Sanderson children home with them for the night, someone shouts - a small boat has been spotted. A flare has been dropped and several people are seen aboard the boat. A rescue helicopter has been dispatched from the nearby Naval Air Station.

By 10 pm another person yells the news that the helicopter has plucked several people from the water and all are being transported to the hospital with mild shock and hypothermia. Two adults are being treated for burns. There is no word on the identities of anyone involved.

Katie and her brothers sleep fitfully in their cabin with a neighbor lady staying with them. At mid-morning the next day a police car slowly drives up the long driveway to the cabin, two uniformed officers get out of the car and open a back door for a man who slowly steps out and walks with them to the front door.

The man is Kenneth. Their dad is okay.

The officers quickly tell the children that their dad is a hero - he saved a young girl and her parents last night. All three kids run to their father and are met with hugs and tears mixed with laughter.

Word quickly spreads around the island. By afternoon most of the island residents have dropped by the Sanderson cabin with food, flowers and presents, most just wanting to say, "Thank you" to Kenneth for his heroism.

One week later the Christmas play is finally performed in the small community, almost the entire town jammed into the school gymnasium. It's standing room only.

The costumed Christmas play includes every kid in the school. Songs are sung, words are spoken, poems are recited. It is a little bit of normalcy, and the crowd responds with laughter and applause.

Finally, the lights dim for the finale. Candles are passed out to the audience. Teachers carry lit candles to the end of each row, lighting the first candle in the row which is then used to light the next one, and so on until all the candles are flickering. The darkened room seems filled with a thousand stars.

On the stage, Katie is sitting in a chair with a single spotlight on her. Softly, the cello begins to emanate the notes of "Silent Night." The large room is totally silent except for the notes of the beautiful carol.

No one has ever heard the timeless song played so wonderfully. In the dimly lit gymnasium, the flickering glow of candles hides the fact that many people around the room are wiping their eyes.

Katie calls out to the audience, "Let's sing" and within seconds she begins the first notes again as the entire crowd sings Silent Night. People who never sang before are singing at the top of their lungs, heads tilted toward the ceiling in a sign of respect and acknowledgement that maybe there is a God looking out for us.

As the last note of Katie's cello fades away, a heavenly peace has indeed filled the room.

Kenneth rises to his feet to applaud his daughter, and then, like wind rippling through a forest, everyone else is now standing and clapping.

At that, the lights come up, candles are extinguished, and hugs are exchanged. Older kids circle Kenneth and Katie's brothers, talking, and shaking hands. Katie is surrounded by classmates who hug her and each other.

The town of Friday Harbor changes that night from a dispersed collection of people living around the area, into a community that has become a family.

The couple and their daughter from the burning boat have been taken in by an older couple that live alone in a four-bedroom lodge on a large piece of land. They are delighted to have company, especially with a child. There is an older, second cabin on their property, which the couple offers to the family. Within two weeks the dad starts work at a local company, the mother begins to volunteer in the school cafeteria, and the daughter is in a school full of new friends, including her new best friend, Katie. Their life trajectory has been turned around by a near disaster and a small community that has embraced them.

Jason and Ethan are never without friends from that day forward. Katie and her new friend from the boat are inseparable.

And Kenneth?

The story about this holiday miracle is reported by local television stations and quickly picked up by national network news as a "good news" story.

Kenneth never lacks writing assignments for the rest of his life.

And here's the point - no matter how dark or sad or scary life feels, there is a bright side to every circumstance, and it usually results from human kindness.

This holiday season you can provide the gift that makes someone else's day a little brighter, or maybe helps them make it through a tough time.

All you need to do is be kind.

And then just watch what happens.