Last night I slept in my own bed, and it felt downright decadent.
Before we left, I had pre-scheduled posts on my blog to share updates about the Attic Room Makeover while my husband and I were away for two weeks, working at the camp. On the last leg of our trip we received the news that a very special woman had passed into her heavenly home.
Her name was Margaret.
She’s the same Margaret from the Miraculous Tea Party and the woman who inspired the artwork titled Margaret’s Verse. She lived to be 96 years old, and the life she led left a lasting impression on everyone who knew her.
As I process this loss, I’ve spent many quiet moments remembering Margaret and listening to others as they shared their memories. The stories people told revealed a woman of deep faith, strong convictions, and warm hospitality. Her life was practical and generous in equal measure.
This was a woman who:
- served tea and slipped a sermonette into the conversation;
- reached out, gripped your arm, and looked you squarely in the eye;
- knew her mind and spoke it with clarity;
- read aloud to her husband during evening boat rides around the harbour;
- substituted vinegar for eggs in recipes when the moment called for it;
- gardened, canned, and froze the fruits of her labour;
- arranged fresh flowers on her kitchen counter simply because they were beautiful;
- played Battleship with young people—always seeming to win;
- served alongside her husband for more than six decades;
- and quietly did so much more.
Her steady example shaped the camp where my husband and I now live and serve. Margaret and her husband founded this place with a vision that has outlived them, and that vision has changed the course of my life. Without their obedience and care, I wouldn’t be doing what I do today.
Thinking about Margaret naturally led me to a sobering question: what will people say about me when I’m gone? It’s easy to feel inadequate when you measure yourself against someone who lived so fully and faithfully. But that comparison misses the point.
Jesus never asks us to be clones of someone else. He asks us to be the people He made us to be—unique, individual, and faithful in our own particular callings. Each life has its own shape and purpose; none of us will live the exact same story as our neighbour.
What He does ask is that we seek wisdom from Him, that we live on purpose and for purpose. That simple, faithful aim is what Margaret modelled. She showed up for life, loved people with practical hands and a generous heart, and relied on faith to guide her days.
I want to live that way, too—intentionally, humbly, and with an eye toward serving others. Margaret’s life is a reminder that ordinary acts—sharing a cup of tea, tending a garden, reading aloud, showing up at camp—add up to a meaningful legacy. The quiet routines and intentional choices of everyday living are often the very things that influence lives for generations.
Her life inspires me to be faithful in small things, to value hospitality, to speak truth with love, and to invest in community. Those are the kinds of habits I hope will characterize my own story when others look back.
Margaret lived with intention and for a purpose larger than herself. That legacy — of service, faith, and steady love — is the legacy I want to carry forward. May we each find the courage to live out our own callings with the same humble devotion she showed.