Eight years ago a spunky lady with a warm smile, quick wit and no nonsense attitude walked into Sojourn and into my life. She made it known that she was 82 years old and this was her first Bible study because her husband was a long haul truck driver and she had six kids and so I knew what she was doing. Yes, Marcie, I so get it.

That first night she made her way slowly over to me asking for prayer for her son. Confined to a wheelchair and not doing well. She was worried. So I held her hands and we prayed. It would be the first of many times she asked me to pray for one of her children. Her love for them was evident in how she talked about them. Once in awhile she would press up against my side and whisper to me what was going on with one of them and ask me to pray. She simply believed that prayer would make a difference. Worry would relax from her face after the whispered request.

She loved Sojourn and the team of women who served so well. I still have one prayer card she filled out for one of the team members. . . all she wrote was the team member’s name over and over again. We both knew what we wanted to happen without anyone spelling it out. I pinned that card to my wall where I would see it while I worked. Marcie’s handwriting spelling out the prayer of all our hearts.

Marcie taught me to dress the way I felt. She would show up in her pink sweatsuit comfortable and warm. Or she might decide it was a night for jewelry and a pretty sweater and make up and a new do. She was comfortable in her own skin. I never remember her putting herself down or complaining about her body the way so many of us do.

One night before Sojourn I got a message that Marcie wouldn’t make it because her flu shot made her sick. The next week I got an ear full about how disappointed she was in missing due to that flu shot. THAT flu shot. She definitely had it out for THAT flu shot. The truth is she put us all to shame. On snowy nights, she would trudge in through snow with her walker while many of us were trying to decide if we really wanted to go out in the snow.

Probably what brought her the most joy at Sojourn was the role she took on herself. She would watch me to see when it looked like it was time to begin. Then she would clap her hands just like a school teacher to get everyone’s attention while nodding at me that she had brought it all under control and I now had her permission to begin. I loved that and the matching victorious look in her eye that only I was privy. There was no one like Marcie.

One Sojourn night we gathered with cake and gifts and balloons and love and surprised Marcie with a party in her honor. I declared that anyone who turned 85 in Sojourn would be thrown a party. She was the queen of the night but it took her a bit before she realized the party was for her. She thought we were just having a party because. . . parties are fun. Her humility was touching. And I learned from it.

During the party we learned a few things about Marcie. She had a little girl named Cindy who died at 7 from leukemia  and how it was a blessing because she couldn’t stand to see her suffer anymore. We learned that her house burned down and they started over. That once she ran a resort up north with her husband. But he had been gone for years now leaving her a widow. We never would have known these things if we hadn’t taken the time to listen and to hear her story. I walked away thinking about all the things we carry deep in our hearts- the hurt and the pain- and how at 85 we can tell those things in such a way that everyone listening will KNOW that they too can get through the hard.

Marcie knew how to use her own life experiences to encourage others. . . when one of our team was diagnosed with the unthinkable it was Marcie who sent the message that once upon a time in the 70’s she too had been diagnosed. She would pray for her. And pray she did. Never forgetting to ask how she was doing.

I remember the conversation with her that her health had turned and she didn’t know how much longer she could come but come she would until she couldn’t. And one day it was clear she couldn’t. I missed her.

Last week Marcie took her last breath and slipped away. I was getting ready to go see her in hospice when the message lit up my phone and it killed me that I was too late. But perhaps we had already said all there was to say. Hardly a Sojourn night went by without Marcie coming to give me a hug and whisper her love in my ear.

We asked her at the big 85 birthday party what advice she had for us. Without a pause, she declared  “love. .  . just love.”

And that is the biggest life lesson she could have given us.

Just love. 

In Memory of Marcella Mae Buckmaster

March 10, 1930- May 8, 2019

She loved well.