Passing the Torch: In Memory of Margaret Storer

On Thursday and Friday afternoons, I, Matthew, look after Greta while Megan tutors Jett. During these afternoons, Greta and I usually like to have a walk around our neighborhood, Kerrisdale. Today however, the Vancouver Winter Olympics interfered with our routine. The Olympic torch passed through Kerrisdale, and happened to do so while we normally have our walk. Though I am not a supporter of the Olympics, neither am I the sort of person to avoid a spectacle. So we stuck around and waited in the mob of people that crowded our usual route. We saw this fellow run past carrying a fire that was kindled far away and quite a while ago now. The above pictures give you a glimpse of the exciting mayhem that is ensuing in our fair city, and that is likely to persist for a little while.

The first picture, however, was not taken in Kerrisdale. This picture shows the coming together of five generations of Greta's family: her great-great grandmother Margaret, Margaret's son Ron, Ron's daughter Kathy, Kathy's daughter Megan, and Megan's daughter Greta. The picture was taken this past August during our visit to Spokane, WA.

Margaret was born in 1911, she lived to see nearly a hundred years on this earth. She lived through thirty Olympic games. She lived under the governance of eighteen U.S. presidents. She read headlines about the World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, and the assassinations of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. She lived to see the 19th amendment to the U.S. Constitution which would give her the right to vote - which she did. She lived to see women elected to public offices, and she saw the election of America's first black President. She lived through a century of great changes, both good and bad.

Margaret lived to give birth and life to two sons, Ron and Robert. She lived through the births of her grand children. She met her grandchildren's children. And this August she met her great-great grand-daughter, Greta Bess.

Greta and I had to stand and wait amid the crowds today to see the Olympic torch carried on. As the runner drew near, a light rain began to fall. Loud music-blaring trucks drove by trying to associate the event in people's minds with corporate products. Then some police cycled past. Finally, the young man jogged by in a brilliant white running suit, his face far out-shining the foreign flame that he bore. He stopped at the intersection and jogged in place, turning around and pumping the torch in the air. Then, turning to his left, he jogged on. Just a little while after he passed from our view he passed the torch on to the next runner, who would, in their turn, beam as they carried the torch onward.

About the time the Olympic torch passed out of the hands that carried it past Greta and me- and into the hands of the next runner, the light that Margaret carried for nearly a hundred years passed into the Light of the world, which surrounds us all.

Margaret bore a light all her own, and she now shines it with the Light that made her. Greta doesn't carry that torch, but a light of her own. Like Margaret's, her's is a bright light than has illumined our lives more than I can say. Greta does bear a version of Margaret's name, and I know that she will one day feel great pride and curiosity for the woman whose name she carries. We will tell her all about what a fine lady Margaret was.

O HEAVENLY Father, help us to trust our loved ones to thy care. When sorrow darkens our lives, help us to look up to thee, remembering the cloud of witnesses by which we are compassed about. And grant that we on earth, rejoicing ever in thy presence, may share with them the rest and peace which thy presence gives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.