Ray's Tears

When I went to Macon, Ray and Ruth opened their front door and their hearts to me. They fed me bacon. I felt like family.

Ray and Ruth have had their share of heartbreak. Two of their children, Becky and Charles, were born with a rare congenital metabolic disease. They died at ages 8 and 7, respectively.

When Becky was 5, she was in the hospital for tonsil and adenoid surgery. Medically fragile anyway, she barely made it through. My granddaddy, Walter Moore, was pastor at Vineville Baptist Church at the time, and came by the hospital to visit. Ray and Ruth were both there, and they all had a friendly visit, talking with relief about Becky's surgery. After a few minutes, both Ruth and Dr. Moore left, leaving Ray to sit with little Becky as she slept.

After a few minutes, Ray broke down, all the fear and worry finally overtaking him. As Ray wept alone in the hospital, Granddaddy came back to comfort him.

When Ray told me this story, he asked me, as he asked himself, "why did he come back a second time?" Because he saw something in Ray during that first cheerful conversation, something Ray didn't even recognize himself. After all, he'd known Ray since Cedartown days, when Ray was just a child. Walter Moore had an intuitive understanding of human nature and grief. And so he came back. As Ray said, "he knew where people really were."

How could he not know where we were?