Meditation on Ephesians 1:11-23
Rev. Dr. Karen Crawford
First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown
All Saints Day
Nov. 1, 2026
Margaret met Hamish Cowie after the war, when she was working in housekeeping at a hotel. His sister, Sheila, introduced them. He was good looking, a police officer, but it wasn’t love at first sight, she said.
Margaret Murray was born on Jan. 22, 1921, to Catherine and William in the historic fishing village of Helmsdale, Scotland. Her father was a fisherman. Margaret was the second of six children. She was a good student and was recognized with a certificate and prize for cooking from Helmsdale Higher Grade Public School in 1934. The prize was the book, Great Expectations. Her service in the British military in World War II, beginning when she was 19, was the thing that she was most proud of. She kept a picture of herself in uniform from that time with a friend, who served with her, near her favorite chair.
She and Hamish were married on Nov. 24, 1948, in Margaret’s church in Helmsdale. The couple lived in Tain and Fearn while Hamish worked as a policeman. They had a son, John, then two daughters, Kathleen, and Sheila, after a long gap. The family emigrated to America on July 5, 1959, and came to live and work in Commack with Hamish’s uncle who bred golden retrievers and had a small dog kennel. But their life in America was very different from their life in Scotland. And Margaret was terribly homesick. Bringing up three children in a country she didn’t know was almost too much for her in the beginning. Margaret said that if it hadn’t been for the Scottish immigrants on Long Island that they met through the Daughters of Scotia, she would have been on the first boat out of here.
She was strong, smart, funny. She knew how to make people laugh, wherever she was. And you would know the moment she started to speak that she wasn’t from around here, though she had lived on Long Island for more than 60 years. She learned to love American country music. The radio played 1050 Country all day long. Oh, and she did what many women in America did in the 1960s and 70s. She watched soap operas, such as “The Edge of Night,” whenever she ironed. She and Hamish gained a church family when they started attending the First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown in the 1960s. They quickly made friends. They were founding members of the Highlanders, which organized the Burns Supper each year, among other Scottish heritage events and activities.
Scotty was working a part-time job, guarding the ice at Belmont Lake State Park, making sure the kids didn’t go on thin ice and fall in. Joan’s friend, Margie, had said to her, “Joan, I have met the man that you are going to marry.” The first thing Joan noticed about him was his big smile and how joyful he seemed.
Harold Stanley Scott was born to Vivian and Roland Scott on April 10, 1934, on the South Shore of Long Island. Scotty had a younger sister, Ethel, who came along about two years later. Roland, their dad, had no education beyond high school. He was involved in local politics in the Town of Babylon. Scotty was baptized in the First Presbyterian Church of Babylon and his mother was Superintendent of the Sunday School. He was drawn to the Holy Scriptures at an early age. He memorized Psalm 23 as a young boy and never forgot it. He received a Bible on Sept. 24, 1944, from the Presbyterian Bible School in Babylon. He was confirmed and became a member of Babylon Presbyterian on June 1, 1949.
His pastor was strict and preached against drinking, dancing, and playing cards or BINGO. But Scotty always believed in a loving and gracious God whom he wanted to follow and please with his life. He had a love for music and enjoyed singing and playing the saxophone in his high school marching band. As a young man, he dreamed of becoming a dairy farmer. He graduated in 1954 from what was, at the time, SUNY Long Island Agricultural and Technical Institute at Farmingdale. But working on dairy farms in upstate New York for two summers opened his eyes to the difficult life, milking the cows twice a day and getting up at 4 a.m.
One day, a man from the State Health Department came to inspect the dairy farm where he was working. Scotty decided, from that moment on, that he wanted to be a health inspector, instead of a farmer. He landed a summer job working for the Suffolk County Health Department in Bay Shore. They were surprised by his maturity and work ethic; they offered him a career position. He received additional training and experience in the U.S. Air Force in 1957 working as an inspector for the food being served to the servicemen and women. He would eventually work for the Suffolk County Health Department office in Hauppauge, finish his bachelor’s degree from Empire State College in 1977, and retire from the health department after 33 years in 1990.
Are you wondering whatever happened to the boy and girl who met at Belmont Lake State Park in the early 1960s? Scotty called Joan a week or so later and they began dating. But it would be another 10 years of dating off and on before they decided to marry. What was holding them back? Their religious differences. Joan was a faithful Roman Catholic who was never going to be Presbyterian. And Scotty was a faithful Presbyterian who was never going to be Catholic. They finally married in The Church of St. Mary in East Islip on Dec. 12, 1971. Through Scotty, Joan began to see the Lord in a new perspective—as Scotty saw the Lord as a loving and gracious God, merciful and quick to forgive. Every morning at the kitchen table, he led them in Bible reading, devotion, and prayer from Our Daily Bread. “He brought me peace and joy,” she says.
Scotty joined the First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown when the Rev. Bill Brown was the pastor. The couple began attending services at Sts. Philip and James Roman Catholic Church in St. James and the Presbyterian church in Smithtown every week for years, although Scotty did stand out in the Catholic church. “Catholics don’t sing,” Joan says, “and he’s belting out all the hymns.”
Today, on All Saints Day, we remember and give thanks for our siblings in the faith. We tell the stories of those dear to us who have gone home to be with God and yet are still with us, surrounding us, in the Great Cloud of Witnesses, cheering us on as we run the race of faith. We remember how their lives touched ours, how loving them and being loved by them has helped to make us who we are today. We speak once again of the hope that we have in Jesus Christ and the riches of our glorious inheritance not in the things of this world, but in Him who has redeemed us and made us God’s own people. We speak of the promise of our being marked and sealed by the Holy Spirit, so that we live not in fear, but with confidence, even as we grieve. We are moved to speak of the immeasurable greatness of Christ’s power for us who believe in the resurrection—not only Christ’s, but ours with Him. He is both with us now and seated at God’s right hand in the heavenly places. What’s more, his body and the fullness of him fills all in all. We have one ruler, dear friends, whose kingdom is not of this world, and yet we know him and feel his loving presence with all the saints. We have one who has all authority and power and dominion, one name above all names, not only in this age but also in the age to come.
You know, when I became a pastor years ago, I knew that I would be visiting my flock in homes, hospitals, and nursing homes, caring for people in their times of need. What I didn’t anticipate would be the depth of my grief when our members go to their heavenly home. How broken I would feel! This is what happens when we love the saints. This love that is a gift from God brings us great joy and deep sorrow. This love is a sign that we are Christ’s Disciples; we are the Body, the fullness of him that fills all in all.
Margaret went home to be with God on January 17, just a few days shy of her 105th birthday. I have missed my Sunday afternoon visits with Margaret, where she would be all dressed up and pretty with her soft sweaters and pins, and her daughter, Sheila, would come in with a tray of tea and shortbread. Margaret was curious and caring, always wanting to hear the latest news from her church, and was known for sending many cards and letters to remember birthdays and anniversaries and cheer someone who was sick or grieving. And she always made me laugh, just by giving me a look when I showed up at her door. “Oh, it’s you!” she used to say and roll her eyes. She would hold out her hands to me when we said goodbye.
Scotty went home to be with God on January 12. He would have been 92 in April. I have missed my visits with Scotty and Joan at their home in Smithtown and then at the Long Island Veterans Home, in a quiet, private place where we used to meet for Communion and catching up. I have missed his beautiful smile and sweet countenance—something he never lost though he struggled with Parkinsons. I have to tell you—Christmas caroling is not going to be the same this year. It brought us tears of joy these last two years, when Scotty, who lost his ability to speak in sentences, suddenly found his voice when we were singing. He would belt out the hymns, just like he did in the Catholic Church, when he embarrassed Joan. He didn’t need any music. He knew the words to all the verses! “O Come All Ye Faithful.” “Silent Night.” “Joy to the World.”
Let us pray.
Holy One, thank you for your love and our being marked and sealed by your Spirit, filled with the immeasurable greatness of your power to live confidently as your own people. Thank you for the riches of our glorious inheritance and redemption in Christ, for opening the eyes of our hearts to our hope and the promise of our resurrection with Him. Thank you that we have nothing to fear, for we have One who has all authority and power and dominion, one name above all names, not only in this age but also in the age to come. Thank you for your Son who is with us now and forever and for our loved ones—for all the saints in the Great Cloud of Witnesses, surrounding us, cheering us on. Help us to live to your praise and glory. And comfort those who grieve, dear Lord. Grant them your peace and joy. Amen.
