A Tribute to Margaret

My connection with Margaret Haines goes back to my childhood. My mother used to do light housework at Margaret’s place during a period in her life when she was still working and looking after her aunt and uncle in her home.

Margaret loved children—I won’t say “kids” because Margaret would not have approved—and she loved books. The teenagers who remember her will tell you that she was good to them. She was the driving force behind The Northland Bible Bookroom in our church and was absolutely dogged about getting people to buy good books—even to writing articles for The Timmins Daily Press promoting the books and the bookroom. If people didn’t come into the bookroom, or even if they did, she’d take the books she thought were appropriate for them and pursue them until she could catch them long enough to explain why they urgently needed to read that book. It was not a matter of sales, it was always a matter of people and what might be meaningful to those people. In fact, just yesterday a friend dropped off a bag of books and tucked inside one of them was a note, written in Margaret’s  always beautiful hand.

Margaret was a school teacher. Since she lived just a block away from my parents’ home, I often walked with her to and from church when I was home. She never stopped being an English teacher even long after she retired from teaching. I had to be careful what I said to Margaret—not the content, but the grammar. She was quick to correct my “misspeaking.” The word “yah” distressed her and things like “irregardless” drove her crazy. She was at times what we imagine the quintessential old-maid school teacher would be like—but there is nothing wrong with that! Now I correct other people’s English. I still say “yah” but it is forever forged in my brain that “irregardless” is not a word.

She was as passionate about magazine and newspaper articles as she was about books. If she thought you should be interested she’d come after you with the clipping or the magazine. She was dedicated to the broader education of every pastor who occupied the pulpit in this church and strove to make sure they were well informed. I doubt that anyone ever saw Margaret without her famous book bag loaded with goodies to share resting on her arm.

Margaret was an avid supporter of the Timmins Museum. While I was living in Toronto she entrusted me with a throw that I was to take to the Curator of the Royal Ontario Museum for their collection.

Things historical fascinated her and her handwriting appears on many of the photos and articles that have been saved over the years to celebrate the 90 years of our own congregation here at First Baptist. For many years she served as church clerk and her interest in missions and missionaries was unparalleled. I attached a photo of my father and me to an article I wrote for a Seniors’ magazine. The photo was lost and I was sorry for that. But since returning to Timmins, I discovered a copy of the photo in our church archives. Margaret, true to form, had clipped the picture out of the magazine and saved it as part of our historical record. Margaret cared about those details.

Margaret had a generous heart. She took in anyone who had need of a place to stay, food, or support. Though she didn’t think of herself as much of a cook, I ate in her home a number of times and she could defend herself quite well in the kitchen—and always set an elegant table. It often scared the rest of us because she seemed oblivious to the dangers that taking in perfect (and sometime rather scruffy looking) strangers might represent. While she was generous with others, Margaret was frugal with herself. She didn’t waste anything. I remember how proud she was to show off a dress she had brought out of her closet to wear. It was forty years old, but in perfect condition and looked great on her. I confessed to a little bit of jealousy—I would never be able to get into something I wore forty years ago!

When age caught up with her, she didn’t slow down for it. The winters were dangerous for walkers on the streets but Margaret simply got out a couple of old ski poles and made her way to church anyway. She was always there—every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, prayer meeting, and whatever else had anything to do with her. Faithfulness was another one of Margaret’s hallmarks.

She was a stickler for correctness and though she sometimes got people upset with her direct schoolmarmish manner, she had a good heart and a godly character. And today, as we remember her, we can be sure that God has, and is, rewarding those Godly character qualities that she showed.

As an English teacher, Margaret was a lover of poetry and this poem BECAUSE I COULD NOT STOP FOR DEATH, written by Emily Dickinson was one of her favourites.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather - he passed us -
The dews grew quivering and chill -
For only gossamer my gown -
My tippet only tulle

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

"Every exit is an entry somewhere else," wrote Tom Stoppard. Margaret’s journey in life was always focused on eternity. She had a personal relationship with God through the faith she had placed in Christ and knew what awaited her on the other side of that “EXIT” sign. Today she is with the Lord she loved well and served in her own unique way. I will not forget her and look forward to that time of reunion we will have when my English will be perfect and she will show me how to dance with angels.