FLOYD lived just 14 hours.
A week ago today baby Floyd's mum and dad, grandparents, extended family and friends buried him in a Launceston cemetery.
They celebrated his life and received comfort from the hundreds of people who attended the funeral.
And while his short life was indeed a tragedy, I want to talk to you about hope.
You see, Floyd's parents (who wanted you to hear this story) were told at 19 weeks that their baby would not live, that they should terminate the pregnancy.
They refused.
Floyd's parents were told that a delicate procedure to insert a shunt to drain the cyst pushing against his heart would probably fail.
They pushed ahead anyway, and the operation was a great success.
Floyd's parents moved to Melbourne so that their child could receive the best possible treatment - even if he was yet to draw his first lungful of air.
Every step of their journey was drenched in prayer and when Floyd was born at 30 weeks after a chain of miracles, each moment was a gift.
The best 14 hours of their lives.
While this story has a sad ending as far as the world is concerned, for Floyd's family it is a tragic yet beautiful example of the hope their faith brings.
``Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see'' was the verse written across the front of Floyd's funeral programme (Hebrews 11:1).
His parents know they will one day be reunited with their son, and they are thankful that they had the opportunity to meet him.
Even in their raw grief they had the fortitude to thank God that they could hold Floyd in their arms, kiss him and rock him before he exhaled breath one last time.
His life was so significant.
I, for one, was reminded that hope is not circumstantial. It does not wax and wane according to life's obstacles.
Hope isn't here when I'm cashed up and successful and gone when I'm sick and afraid.
Hope in Christ is a constant, and that means our lives can be a triumph over despair.
What better time to bring this truth to mind than Christmas?
In the carol O Little Town of Bethlehem, penned by Phillips Brooks many moons ago, there is a line that goes like this: ``The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.''
Hopes and fears in the tangible, like flotsam and jetsam, are tossed backwards and forwards on the tide.
God's brand of hope, brought to us in the form of the vulnerable baby Jesus, is a rock we can moor our life to.
Hope is a powerful force. With hope, the blows only bruise us, they may even scar us, but they don't knock us down.
And this bigger-than-me kind of hope is available to everyone.
When the angel proclaimed the birth of Jesus all those years ago, it said, ``Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord'' (Luke 2:10-11).
Hope for ``all the people''.
This Christmas we will remember two babies - the death of Floyd and the birth of Jesus. But in both we will celebrate one thing.
Hope.