Her kids are so great, and based on cumulative hours spent at her house, my husband basically qualifies as one of her kids.
Mrs. Joyce passed away yesterday, and I am sad. I see how sad my husband is. I hear how sad her family is. And even at a distance, I share in this deep sorrow because she was was such a bright light.
The first Christmas that Philip and I were dating (which was incidentally three weeks before our wedding I can explain that craziness later) we stopped by Mrs. Joyce's house. It smelled like a friendly blend of warm cinnamon and garlic. There was foil-covered food blanketing the stove top and surrounding counters. Everyone was in athletic wear. The soap in the hall bathroom was the good stuff.
Adult kids lounged on the arms of sofas and recliners while a fluffy, fat cat eased into and around all the discussion. Football was on, but you couldn't hear the announcers for all the chatty laughter. The drapes flanking the sliding glass door were as thick and rich as the southern accents, and the leftover pumpkin pie was almost as sweet as the lady who served it.
She insisted that I sit on the couch beside her and she asked me questions about the wedding. She told me how much she adored Philip, and how long she had felt that way. Even now, 28 years later, I can see her wide smile and hear the happy smack of her laughter coupled with the simultaneous jangle of earrings and bracelets. She giggled easily and continued to gently touch my arm or knee or hand the whole time we talked.
As I stood insecure at the threshold of adulthood, she was "goals". I wished in my heart that God would miraculously make me sweet enough to open my home wide and often; that he would bless me with loads of leftovers, good soap in the hall bath, and plenty of people to play football in the front yard.
Oh, for the grace to fold folks into my tribe the way Joyce did for Philip and me. As she loved others with hospitality and prayer, she planted seeds of belonging and joy, and her life pointed us to Jesus. Her life continues to point us to Jesus. That is exactly where our focus is now, as she rests in His loving arms having served Him well.
