Adapted from Unhappy Holidays: Blessings for a Blue Christmas (Herald Press, 2025)

Six years ago, I sat at my desk in the church office, struggling to craft words that would welcome the congregation into the Advent season.

My family’s hearts were breaking with the pain of watching a loved one suffer and decline. My mother-in-law, Susan Gerber, was suffering from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis — ALS, commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Despite the doctors’ earlier estimates, we now knew this would be our final holiday season together. After one last Christmas morning on the farm, we would move her into a facility where she could receive round-the-clock care as her body slowly shut down.

The cursor blinked on the blank computer screen as Sunday morning drew nearer. Where were the comfort and joy? What words of hope and peace could I offer when my world didn’t feel merry and bright? What does it mean to anticipate when the things we await are grievous and dreadful?

As Advent begins, the liturgical calendar reminds us that Christians do not live on the world’s time. Our faith has its own rhythms and rituals to nurture our souls.

Advent invites us to a time of preparation. We prepare to celebrate the incarnation, the birth of Jesus, just as we prepare for the second advent, the return of Christ.

So, I stood before my congregation on the first Sunday of Advent that year and said:

This morning, we light the first Advent candle, in anticipation of God’s justice breaking in. God longs to free us from all that holds us captive to fear, confusion and despair. We light this candle as a reminder to take heart. God is coming to make things right.

While I love much about this time of year, the season is not really about Christmas trees, sugar cookies or a bevy of gifts in matching wrapping paper. The joy of connecting to others and our favorite traditions have their place. But at the heart of Advent is an invitation to renew our commitments to the spiritual practices that form our faith.

It is the season for those who are weary, for those burdened by grief and loss, as we are invited to make space in our hearts and minds to receive anew the many gifts of incarnation.

On that last Christmas together, we lovingly placed our favorite ornaments on Grandma’s tree as familiar carols played. As we unboxed each one, we remembered the favorite vacation spot that the souvenir came from or which grandchild’s fingerprints adorned the wobbly clay bell.

We filled the kitchen with the scents of cinnamon and cloves, making our favorite cookies and Christmas candy to enjoy with mugs of hot chocolate as we watched White Christmas.

On Christmas morning, we read from the Gospel of Luke, unwrapped gifts and enjoyed cinnamon rolls. Laughter and tears mingled as we gave and received what would be our last gifts. We had a good, holy and hard Christmas together.

Sherah-Leigh Gerber is a writer, spiritual director and clinical mental health counseling graduate student. Unhappy Holidays is her second book. You can learn more about her work at shergerber.com. The Gerber family attends Oak Grove Mennonite Church in Smithville, Ohio. Her mother-in-law, Susan Gerber, died May 12, 2020.