With the family’s permission, I share this reflection from the funeral Mass I was honored to preach for Marguerite “Peg” McElroy—a woman of deep faith, unshakable love, and quiet strength whose life continues to inspire even in her passing.
I had the privilege of walking with Peg over the final four months of her journey, serving as her hospice chaplain. And though I hadn’t known her for years, I can testify that time with Peg wasn’t measured in months—it was measured in grace. As I shared during her funeral liturgy, we were strangers only once. After that, she made me family. And today, I am honored to now be family with all who loved her.
Peg called me “her deacon.” She carried a special bond with the diaconate—her husband served as a deacon, her brother is a deacon, and one had visited her faithfully in Florida before she moved to Wisconsin. Then, in what I call God’s divine appointment, another deacon—me—was sent to accompany her home to her Creator.
Peg was a teacher to me. In her quiet way, she reminded me what it means to be a servant of Christ: humble, joyful, compassionate. Her obituary said it best:
“Her heart spent decades beating, not just for her, but for everyone she met.”
That’s Gospel truth. Especially when heard alongside Jesus’ words in Matthew 25, where our Lord tells us that we will be judged not by status, but by love:
“I was hungry, and you gave me food. I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.”
Peg did this—again and again.
She loved fiercely and faithfully. Her family, friends, neighbors, even strangers—she prayed for them, served them, gave without needing to be asked and never asked for anything in return. Even in suffering, she sought to bless others.
From the Book of Lamentations, we heard the reminder Peg lived by:
“The favors of the Lord are not exhausted; his mercies are renewed each morning.”
And in Romans 8, Paul proclaims a promise Peg knew by heart:
“Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.”
Not even death. Not even grief.
Peg’s heart may have stopped beating, but the love it carried lives on—in every person she touched. I saw it in the stories you told me. I felt it in the way she welcomed me—not as someone coming to give her something, but as someone she was called to bless.
In honor of Peg—a faithful deacon’s wife, a shepherdess, a prayer warrior, a friend—I ended my homily with a poem written just for her. I now share it here with you, in the hope that her life continues to lead, guide, and inspire:
He Who Stands with Grace
In honor of a faithful deacon’s wife who now leads with wisdom and heart.
She didn’t ask for titles or praise,
She simply loved through quiet days.
While others saw the deacon’s role,
God saw her heart, her steady soul.
Through years of service, joy, and tears,
She held his hand, she calmed his fears.
But now she speaks with voice made strong—
To guide, to bless, to right the wrong.
She tells the truth with love and light:
“See your wife—hold her tight.
Don’t miss the beauty by your side,
She is your partner, not your pride.”
She walks with wisdom, calm and true,
A shepherdess in all she’ll do.
A mother, wife, and faithful friend,
Whose quiet strength will never end.
“The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.”
— Proverbs 14:1
Rest in peace, Peg.
And may we honor your legacy by doing what you did—loving with every beat of our hearts.
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