It’s not the best time of year to have to bury a loved one. Christmas is already laden with so many emotions that to add another layer of fresh grief can be overwhelming.

It’s not the best time. But, then again, it’s never the right time, or a good time, to do this. Is it? Death always comes unbidden. Even as beloved GG lived under the threat of this day for many years now suffering as she did, her passing this last Sunday still jars us out of a sense of how we would live our lives.

It’s never a good time.

And yet, there are moments that remind us that there is meaning in some of it. Sometimes, there is a convergence in time and place that first surprises us. And then, if we let it, its message can sink deep into our hearts and actually give us hope.

I’ve already reminded the congregation of GG’s gift to the church years ago of our beautiful Advent Wreath. Year after year in the season of Advent—the four weeks leading up to Christmas—the large circular wreath is hauled up on guy wires and hung in place from the ceiling of the sanctuary. Its candles, shining over the congregation, have lighted our steady journey towards Christmas for many years.

Each Sunday before Christmas has a word associated with it, to help us on the journey. The four words are, in order: hope, peace, joy and love. These words describe the experience of living in faith and waiting for the coming of Jesus.

In a broader sense, the Advent calendars and wreaths with their intentional pacing and pausing on the way to Christmas build resilience in our spirit for living in these challenging and difficult times. Because to live well, we need hope, peace, joy and love in our lives.

This past Sunday is traditionally called “Gaudete” Sunday, from the Latin, “Rejoice”. On some wreaths, while the rest of the candles are all purple or blue the third candle, to signify joy, is coloured pink.

The third candle, the ‘Joy’ candle, on GG’s wreath was lighted during worship Sunday morning just moments after she died. Now, if that’s not a meaningful convergence in time and place, I don’t know what is.

Moreover, the month of the year—December—in which she died was also the month of the year she was born. And, December was the month when she first set foot in Canada after arriving from Germany a young woman full of life and ready to turn the calendar on a new year, a new beginning, and always ready for adventure.

The timing may not be the best for doing what we are doing today. But, in another sense, the timing couldn’t be better. Former Czech president and writer, Václav Havel, once gave a definition of hope that resonates with me. He wrote, “Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”

So, it’s not about whether what happens turns out exactly the way we’ve envisioned it or want it to be. It’s not about my desires or preferred outcomes. That’s not hope. In this season and in these days before Christmas as the world watches and waits for something better, maybe we can lean on those moments of wonderful convergence, and trust that in the end, God’s timing is the best for us all.

From this point in time forward, the light will get brighter. The wreath will shed its full complement of light in the coming days, even as we still gather in darkness for Christmas Eve celebrations. But today we gather on the first day after the longest night of the year. From this point forward, the days will slowly but surely get longer and brighter.

That was GG’s hope and joy. And it is ours.

Amen.