It was time. Not the time any of us would have chosen. Yet it was God’s time. And we had gathered to accept it.

Specifically, the time was a year ago today—the day in God’s appointed timetable when my dad would be taken from us in death. His 83 good years of service to his Savior and his 51 loyal years of family leadership were over. His strong, determined body had at last succumbed to the relentless processes of aging and disease.

Yet it was Christmastime. The time of bright lights, joyous songs, and talk of Jesus’ birth. It was time for anticipation, children’s excitement, and peace on earth.

It was not a time, it would seem, to think about funeral arrangements and saying goodbye. How could this be the right time?

It was the right time because it was God’s time. It was time for Dad to stop suffering. It was time for him to spend Christmas with Jesus. It was time for reunion with my sister in heaven—and how Dad liked reunions!

It was the right time because God never errs. He knew that my father’s work was complete, his influence would live on, and his legacy was secure. He knew what He was doing. Dad was home for Christmas. It was time—God’s time.