It has been one year since Joyce died.  Her husband posted some thoughts on Facebook today and invited those who knew her to share what they remembered for those who did not.  Although we were blessed to get together with her family when we moved here last month it had been 20 yrs since Joyce and I had seen each other in the church basement where our homeschool group met.  In the years that would follow we watched each other's families grow (and grow and grow ; )) through the exchange of Christmas letters and pictures.  Our Air Force paths would not cross again in person though.  So why is it that even now, it is hard to mention her without getting choked up?  

Jeff asked us for a special memory.  My most vivid memories are of an early 30-something Joyce, a young mother in Ohio with children nearly the same age as my own at the time.  She was 6yrs older than I and a lifetime ahead in spiritual maturity. She was solid and peaceful in her faith, but not the least bit somber or stodgy.  I, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of emotion, newly returned to the Church, new to homeschooling, new to raising a family, and questioning pretty much every step of the way.  

What I remember is that my questions, challenges often, did not phase her.  If I was exasperating (and I had to have been at times) she never let on.  Her tone of voice remained calmly confident and cheerful.  Her patience was unending and contagious. It just felt good to be nearby and I hoped to absorb some of that serenity by osmosis. 

One conversation has been played back in my mind over and over through the years.  We were discussing difficult medical/parenting choices.  I was tied up in knots over the particular issue we were debating, in so typically me fashion, worried and frantic to make the right decisions that would ensure nothing bad would happen.  

Ever.  

Joyce, even then, seemed to have a keenly developed resignation to Divine Will.  Her final take on the subject that day was that sometimes, "We pray, we sprinkle holy water over them, and we act."  Just like that. Even in the absence of those impossible assurances I so desperately wanted.  Over the years, with much more reading and meditation, I realized what she was communicating to me that day was that the very best we can do for our families is to commit them to the safe-keeping of the Father who created them and then to know, really know in our hearts, that whatever happens next is for our salvation and theirs.  To really, truly know that He is a loving Father and can be trusted no matter what the circumstances may look like. 

What I remember is that she was not a hand-wringer. Her's was not a trust borne from ease or naiveté, however. When struggle came she did not shrink. This did not surprise me in the least.  When I caught up with Joyce on Facebook in the fall of 2013 her fight against a rare cancer was advanced.  Her letters were still joyful, yet she was clear that she was on borrowed time and had no more answers for the burning questions we all had for her life then than she had had during our discussion years before.  No one knew for sure, ultimately.  Still, she had every bit as much unwaivering peace with and resignation to the will of God, however it played out.  

As a mom of ten now, I know what that kind of confidence would require of a woman.  I know the type of faith and  discipline it would have to take to leave in God's hands the children and husband He gave you.  I am not sure I have that yet.  I still struggle with my white-knuckled grip on the illusion of control. Daily, though, I remember her example and strive hard to meet the challenges of my life with some portion of that grace, to make not only my words but my life reflect an abiding trust in my Savior.

What does that look like?  What would a trust like that look like on a busy morning, after a deep disappointment, during a difficult move, or when receiving a sober diagnosis? This is the question Joyce's life asks of mine.  Answering it is the challenge I will live out. 

If you read this, please say a prayer for the repose of her brave, bright soul and remember her beautiful family in your prayers.