Marion was a generation older than me, wife of Tony, both on the best friends list of my parents since their early 20's.
Marion had an iron will. She'd survived tuberculosis and the loss of a lung in those early years of their marriage. That's when she and Tony had endeared themselves to my folks, and vice versa. They played cards with Marion in the hospital and gave support to Tony at work. Marion beat the odds of tuberculosis, and then some.
By the time I came along, our two family's were close enough that we even traveled cross country in the '62 Chevy - no air conditioning - to visit them when they moved to California for a job change.
My fondness for Marion and Tony grew stronger once I hit my twenties - staying with them on a few of my business trips and catching a few games of golf when they came to visit my folks.
Marion had a certain joy that was at the heart of who she was. You saw it as a smile and heard it as laughter. A couple times when I called home to my folks and Marion was visiting, my dad would just hold the phone receiver out and let me listen to her laugh. Hearing her laugh, even over the phone, was balm for the soul.
In these final years I learned something deeper though. That river of laughter ran right between the shores of her serenity. Just as I'd felt so happy to laugh with her, there was a relaxed calm sitting beside her with a cup of coffee. I wonder if someone who came so close to death at an early age, not knowing if there would be any future - had a more innate sense that joy is both laughter and peace. I pray, even today, that I will know Joy that is steeped in serenity - maybe like someone who thought their life was over, only to realize there was a richness beyond measure still to come.
"Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." Nehemiah 8:10
I'm going to miss Marion, more than a person might think. I only wish I could listen in on the receiver and hear the laughter she's stirring up on the other side. I'll bet some of the saints have tears in their eyes, too.
What do you believe?
