Grandma Moore

She was born well before the turn of the 20^th century, lived through the terrible Great Depression, rearing four children without her husband who died in 1922, and witnessed two World Wars, and the Vietnam war. She was a grandmother that, due to unavoidable circumstances on her part, I knew mostly from a distance. But her character, faith and quiet spirit of determination still influences my life though she has been “resting” in her eternal habitation now for 47 years.

She was always a bit unknown to me, and still is, so when I was called upon to conduct her memorial service in 1977 while pastoring in Newton, Kansas, at a graveside service in a little cemetery in southeastern Iowa, I quoted a poem that I could not have fully appreciated the truth of: “God has not promised skies always blue, flower strewn pathways all our lives through…But God has promised strength for the day, rest for the labor, light for the way; grace for the trials, help from above, unfailing sympathy, undying love.” (Annie Johnson Flint)

And Grandma Moore had a bundle of trials. She was pregnant with her fourth child when her husband died of what was believed to have been complications from the flu that he had suffered with during the 1918 flu pandemic that claimed 675,000 lives in the U.S. He was a farmer, so after his death, Grandma sold the farm and moved to the small town of Stockport, IA. She somehow managed to eke out a living by housekeeping for people, earning a dollar a day. Her only son, Robert, enlisted in the Army and served with distinction. Her daughters, including my mother, survived until they graduated from high school and married, my mother at the age of 17; she and my father enjoyed 72 years of marriage together; and though married at a very young age, God gave Mom a husband who loved her dearly and, as best he could, provided for her every need.

Back to Grandma Moore. When the children were gone from the home, she took jobs caring for aged people, often living in with them as a caregiver. This made visits with her few and far between–until she finally retired and moved to Ottumwa into a house close to ours. I was a teenager by then, and after basketball and baseball, (no time then for girls) getting to make up for lost time in knowing Grandma Moore was not high on my list. I remember she read the newspaper word for word, and would verbalize, in soft but distinguishable sounds each word, reading out loud to herself. It pretty much drove a kid into another room! But, she read the Bible, too, and always faithfully attended church services with us. She never drove a car in her life.

I do not know when she became a Christ-one. It was thought to have been during a revival meeting. In those early decades of the 20^th century, churches in small towns would often band together to invite an evangelist in for a revival meeting. There were Methodist and Baptist churches, and some Presbyterians, and regardless of the denominational title, churches of that era generally believed the fundamentals of the faith, even though differing on modes of baptism and eschatological matters, as well as church polity. So an evangelist that preached faith and repentance, usually an evangelist with fire in his bones, could preach to the whole town and often there were many conversions. We think our grandmother was saved in such a meeting, but she never had the opportunity of attending a Bible-preaching church where she could hear good Bible doctrine taught until later in life, though no one doubted that she loved God, His Word and His Son. No one else in her birth family was ever known to have trusted Christ.

As I have indicated, her early struggles in life as a single parent, left with four children to provide for, made her a woman of strength and independence. To her dying day, she adamantly refused governmental programs designed to assist the elderly. Thankfully, she was always in pretty good health until, at the ripe old age of 87, she dropped dead in her kitchen, probably of heart failure or a stroke. Once, she visited us (Ellen and me) when we lived in Minnesota. I was going to seminary and working full-time, so when I heard her call my name in the middle of the night saying, “Tony, bring me a spoon-full of baking soda in a glass of water,” I dutifully, half asleep, got up and went to the medicine cabinet and put my hands on a box of powder that was on the top shelf, stirring up a spoon-full of its powdery contents– still half asleep—in a glass of water, taking it to Grandma.  Back to bed, and then more awake, it dawned on me that baking powder was probably not in the medicine cabinet. I woke Ellen up long enough to ask her what it was that was in the box on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet, and found out that it was indeed not baking soda, but rather 20 Mule-Team Borax powder! I was gripped with fear. Would grandma live through the night? Should I tell her what she had just drunk? I chose to wait until morning and was so very glad to see her up and getting ready for breakfast. Her first words to me were, “Tony, you saved my life last night. Thanks for bringing me that baking soda.” I am sure I mumbled “You’re welcome,” and you can be sure that Grandma never ever knew that she drank a glass of 20 Mule-Team Borax powder!

When I pastored in Kansas in the early 70’s Grandma got to visit with us a couple of weeks. Ellen will never forget that during that visit Grandma taught her the art of making the best homemade yeast rolls ever! Nor will she forget walking by the bedroom seeing Grandma Moore on her knees in prayer. We were thankful that the Grandmother that was known to most of us only from a distance become better known and dearly loved during those brief but blessed visits.

Interestingly, when Evangelist Bill Hall held a revival meeting in our home church in Ottumwa, Iowa, Grandma Moore kept him and Shirley (motels were usually not an option in those years). I know they must have enjoyed some of those homemade rolls and some of the jelly that she would can each summer.

Well, I have spent a bit extra time and space on this personal post. I hope you have endured to the end and, maybe, have enjoyed the reflections. Thanks for taking the time to read.

“She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed….”(Provs.31:27,28a)