"I see your boys sleeping over there in the corner. If they wake up, we'll find someone to replace you."
"I think they'll probably sleep until morning. Although, they'renot used to getting woken up in the middle of the night the way they were today, so who knows what they'll do."
"Just when we think we have our kids figured out, they throw us a curveball. I know how that goes," Marjorie said.
"I'm sure you do. Raising all the kids that you did. You did such a great job. All of your children are in church and serving the Lord. I feel like you need to write a book."
Marjorie laughed. "I don't feel like I have anything to say. It was only through the grace of God. Of course, I can relate to you, since I lost my husband as well." She paused, and then she said, "My kids weren't quite that little."
"Yeah. I don't know whether it's easier or harder that the kids have no memories of him at all. They weren't even born when he died."
"It's probably easier. They don't know what they're missing. But it's harder for you, because you don't have anyone to share your memories with." Marjorie sighed. "The kids and I talk about their dad all the time. Not that he was perfect, but when someone passes away, you have a tendency to look back with rose-colored glasses. At least I do."
Olivia nodded, looking over at the other people milling about. There were probably twenty adults and maybe not quite that many children. Several of the adults were elderly and sat in the camp chairs, rather than trying to get down on the floor.
"I sent Roland to go get the cots that we have in the barn. I covered them with a blanket years ago. We haven't used them since the kids have gotten older, but that might work better than having some of these older folks trying to get down on the floor. I know I could get down, but I'm not sure I can get myself back up at this point in my life." Marjorie laughed.
"You're looking a lot better than you have for a while," Olivia said, not sure whether Marjorie was talking about the cancer that she'd gone through. For a long time, there were rumors that swirled around her that she might have diabetes or something else. But shehadn't announced it, and it seemed to be something she wanted to keep secret.
"Thank you. There for a while I wasn't sure whether I really wanted to live. I had time to contemplate the idea that I probably wasn't going to."
"Weren't you scared?" Olivia couldn't help but ask.
Marjorie waited until Mrs. Biddle, who had come up for soup, left with a bowl of vegetable soup cradled in her hands, before she said, "I suppose at times I was. The middle of the night when you wake up and you can't breathe, or you're in a lot of pain and you wonder if this is it, you know?"
"What did you do?"
"I just reminded myself that heaven was going to be better than now. It's hard to let go of the idea that we want to live, because God created us with that drive. But He also promises to be with us, to walk with us all the time, and I assume that means even in death. So therefore, I would just say, 'Jesus, I'm scared. Remember your promise to stay with me? I'm gonna cling to you. Because I don't know how to die.'" Marjorie laughed. There wasn't a whole lot of humor in it, but her face looked relaxed and at peace. "Isn't that the fear? It's the unknown? I don't know what dying is going to entail. Is it going to hurt? And of course I'm going to be scared. Anytime you can't breathe, or you feel a lot of pain, it's scary. So I think that's normal. And I would remind myself of that too. But," here she gave a little laugh, "just look at graveyards. How many millions, or billions of people have died before me? They've all somehow gotten through it. I can do it too, I guess."
"I've never thought about it that way. I suppose my husband has died, and he managed it. I guess I can do it if he can." Olivia couldn't help but laugh, because it seemed like convoluted logic in some way, but it was true. If her husband could do it, if her grandparents could die, so could she. Not that she would have a choice.
"I don't know why we're so scared of dying. There are a lot of things that are worse than dying. A lot of sins that we just wink at,that if we really could see the world through God's eyes, we would see that sin as far, far worse than death. We get hung up on things that don't matter."
"I'm guilty of that. I don't need to think about death in order to know it isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me."
"But I will tell you that coming face-to-face with death, and having to come to grips with it... it changed me. Maybe made me more determined to use the time that I have left to serve people to the best of my ability. To try to show them Jesus, however I can. To actually live what I say I believe, because so often I don't."
"Well, that's a surprise to me. It's not hard for me to see Jesus when I look at you."
"You can't see my thoughts. If you could, if they could be displayed right there on the wall for everyone to read, I would be so embarrassed. I would rather be out in that blowing wind and blistering cold than sitting in here knowing everybody knew what I thought today. And that's just today."
Olivia nodded. "I would be out there with you, if my thoughts were on the wall."
Thoughts about Pastor Mark. She hadn't been able to get him out of her head since she had left after checking out the rec room and seeing how well prepared he was. And yet, he had admitted to her that he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to hold up to Pastor Johnson's standards, and people would be disappointed in him. Such a talented man, so thoughtful, and so concerned about people, and yet... he didn't think he was good enough. He was humble and capable and caring and protective. How he carried her boys in. She loved how gentle he was with them, how easily he spoke with them, despite not having children of his own.
Marjorie had served two more people, and she didn't seem to notice that Olivia's thoughts had gone off the rails.
And then, the object of her thoughts opened the door and came in with a gust of wind, his arm around an elderly woman who hadtaken the time to get completely dressed, put a scarf over her head, and a coat bundled up around her.
"Oh good. He thought to check on Mrs. Richardson. She's by herself and just about a mile outside of town."
"Yeah, in that trailer by herself. I bet she lost electricity before the rest of us did."
"I bet she did too, and I bet Pastor will be over here to get her some soup. She looks cold."
Olivia nodded, as she spooned out more soup for two of Marjorie's grandchildren. Marjorie chatted with them a bit, and then they went back over to where their mother had sleeping bags and a couple of chairs set up for them.
Each family seemed to take a little spot for themselves, spacing their areas out so that no one was sitting on top of anyone else.
