“Beauty is deceitful and popularity is vain. But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her own hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates” (Proverbs 31:30-31).
Margaret would be embarrassed to know I used Proverb 31 on her.
But she was in many respects every ounce that strong woman to whom someone is paying tribute. She had to be, considering all the hurdles she cleared, the obstacles she overcame, the setbacks and hardships and difficulties life handed her, all of which she met head-on and surmounted.
I wish you could have known her in her prime.
She could be fierce in her faith and soft in her sweetness, and focused like a laser when she set her mind to do a thing. Only in her later years did the burdens begin to outnumber and overwhelm her. Even then, she was a fighter. Her calendar is filled with appointments I am having to cancel–meetings with therapists, nutritionists, pain management clinic, physical therapy, a psychiatrist, and a few other things. She was not giving up, she was not going down without a fight.
Joe married a fighter. April 13, 1962. A Friday night in Birmingham, Alabama.
She would have to be a fighter. She was tying herself to a young preacher who hardly knew how to be a husband, breadwinner, pastor, or a father, and much less a caretaker, lover, best friend. I would have to learn all of this, and some lessons came harder than others.
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