The Moody Family

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              Grandma Moody at her house in Crab Orchard, WV      Grandma Moody With Great-Grandkids           

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Cemetery at Canterbury, WV      
    Stone for Aunt Aleese, Mom's sister, whom we never knew       Stone for Uncle Dillard, also knows as "Butch"    All those attending the service for Uncle Donald Grandma and Grandpa Moody's headstone Service led by Kermit   
  Kelly beside Uncle Donald's marker Kermit leading service; Trooper  a distant relative Uncle Charles "Scratch" (left) has since passed     away          

The Visible God

I looked and I saw love, and the face of God looked into the face of the dying man and smiled.

Lips moved, and hardly-distinguishable sounds were heard. The girl, the dying man's granddaughter, leaned in closer, her hand gently holding his jerking hand. Her lips formed words of comfort, words of reassurance. But, they weren't necessary, because her eyes said all that was needed or wanted.

"Grandpa, I love you. Grandpa, I am here." 

And he knew! Somehow he knew, through the fog of medications and through the veil that enshrouds a dying body and a fighting mind slowly surrendering to the way of all flesh.

It was a horribly-ugly moment, because it exposed the awfulness of the final encounter of life and death. Sin's fruit rotten to the core ... the wages of sin -- not this man's sins only, but the sins of all people in every generation of all time. 

Yet, it was a wondrously-glorious moment because the energy generated by the love being given, and received, and returned, overwhelmed and conquered the awfulness of the moment. 

This night will turn into morning, and maybe tomorrow will see the man and the girl continue the struggle. Maybe the conflict will be over. Only One knows, and it is He who permitted himself to be seen in those defining moments when a dying man was allowed to look into the face of God's love and say 


Note: Written by Pastor Don Meadows 1/14/04 in Baltimore, Md. My Uncle Donald Moody died at 2 a.m. on 1/20/04. His granddaughter was with him. I was given my first name after Uncle Donald, who was fighting in Europe during World War II when I was born. He participated in 7 major invasions, was wounded and carried the emotional scars of his combat experiences the rest of his life. He declared his faith in Jesus Christ and was baptized by me on the night I wrote this article. To God be the glory!


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