Josie Allen
She was born in 1883 (Chester Arthur was President). At 92 years of age in 1975 she had seen a lot in her lifetime. At 5’ 8” I was able to tower over her petite 4’ 11” frame. She lived in one of the older, stately two-story houses on S. Williams Street in Moberly, MO. My acquaintance with Josie began as I looked for a place to live, preparing for my first job out of college, which took me to Moberly. I spent all day checking out apartment complexes with no luck. Toward the end of the day I stopped and prayed, “Lord, help me find a place to live. The affordable options are minimal.” At my last stop I was told of a lady who had an upstairs one-bedroom apartment for rent, currently available. Not what I really wanted, but I decided to go check it out.
Josie greeted me at the door with a smile, inviting me in. She told me she had often rented the apartment to staff or students at Central Christian College of the Bible, which interested me since I planned to take some courses there myself. She said the grand piano in the spacious living room was the centerpiece of many past parties when her husband was alive. Now, she was alone in this big house, most family and friends dead, her only daughter living in Kansas City. We sat down in the small sitting room, where we would spend many evenings later, and as she talked, I knew God had answered my prayer (and maybe hers too).
In the weeks and months ahead, I would push through the clothing in my closet of the apartment’s bedroom, the door on the back side leading into the upstairs hallway. It reminded me of Peter in the C.S. Lewis story, going through the wardrobe to another world beyond. I’d go down the stairs and join Josie in the sitting room to watch TV, or more importantly, to listen to her stories, transferring me as if in a portal, to the other world of Josie’s past.
She would tell me about her family coming to the state in the late 1800’s, her memory of riding in the back of a covered wagon as they came across the prairie of northeast Missouri toward Moberly. The town was young then, founded in 1866, just after the Civil War. Her father became a successful businessman and built the house she still lived in, Josie (an only child) and her husband eventually taking it over.
In the early 1900’s cars became more prevalent, but Josie rarely would drive. At 4’ 11” she could barely see over the steering wheel. She needed thick wooden lifts to allow her feet to reach the pedals. On one occasion a friend was in the hospital, and she wanted badly to go see her, but Josie’s husband was away on business. Determined, she got in their car and started out. I can hear her cackling as she talked about running over curbs, veering wildly down the streets narrowly missing other cars, then running into a tree when she finally arrived at the hospital! Someone later told her they saw her car, but could see no one driving, thinking it must be a ghost. “Oh my!” Josie cackled, “it made me laugh so hard I thought I’d lose my teeth!” (She had false teeth, I’d seen it happen.)
What a joy to spend such time with her during my first year in Moberly. She encouraged my faith, was always the gracious host. A few years later we went to visit Josie in Woodland Hospital, days before she passed. She’d been in a nursing home for a while. Her daughter informed her who was visiting, and the strangest thing happened. Josie sat up in bed and started talking. “Rick, let me introduce you to _____ (someone I’d never met from her past). Oh, and over there is Jesus, I know you’d like to meet him. Isn’t this the grandest party!” Her daughter explained it was a near death phenomena, remembering people from years ago, thinking of her religious heroes, and merging it all with people in the room whom she recognized.
As I stood there with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Josie’s vision was about to come true. Thank you, Josie Allen, for being one of the dearest friends, one who nudged me on, encouraging me on this Christian path. I can see your smile, hear your laugh, see the twinkle in your eyes. And when I slip through the wardrobe to heaven one day, I’ll be anxious for the introductions you’ll make. You, dear lady, are not forgotten.
Cross Point: “Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from earnest counsel” (Prov. 27:9). Be an unexpected encourager for someone in your life who needs a friend.
Rick’s blog: rickwilliswrites.wordpress.com (Vetus Via)
Or go to the SHCC app under “Connect” for Cross Points
Josie greeted me at the door with a smile, inviting me in. She told me she had often rented the apartment to staff or students at Central Christian College of the Bible, which interested me since I planned to take some courses there myself. She said the grand piano in the spacious living room was the centerpiece of many past parties when her husband was alive. Now, she was alone in this big house, most family and friends dead, her only daughter living in Kansas City. We sat down in the small sitting room, where we would spend many evenings later, and as she talked, I knew God had answered my prayer (and maybe hers too).
In the weeks and months ahead, I would push through the clothing in my closet of the apartment’s bedroom, the door on the back side leading into the upstairs hallway. It reminded me of Peter in the C.S. Lewis story, going through the wardrobe to another world beyond. I’d go down the stairs and join Josie in the sitting room to watch TV, or more importantly, to listen to her stories, transferring me as if in a portal, to the other world of Josie’s past.
She would tell me about her family coming to the state in the late 1800’s, her memory of riding in the back of a covered wagon as they came across the prairie of northeast Missouri toward Moberly. The town was young then, founded in 1866, just after the Civil War. Her father became a successful businessman and built the house she still lived in, Josie (an only child) and her husband eventually taking it over.
In the early 1900’s cars became more prevalent, but Josie rarely would drive. At 4’ 11” she could barely see over the steering wheel. She needed thick wooden lifts to allow her feet to reach the pedals. On one occasion a friend was in the hospital, and she wanted badly to go see her, but Josie’s husband was away on business. Determined, she got in their car and started out. I can hear her cackling as she talked about running over curbs, veering wildly down the streets narrowly missing other cars, then running into a tree when she finally arrived at the hospital! Someone later told her they saw her car, but could see no one driving, thinking it must be a ghost. “Oh my!” Josie cackled, “it made me laugh so hard I thought I’d lose my teeth!” (She had false teeth, I’d seen it happen.)
What a joy to spend such time with her during my first year in Moberly. She encouraged my faith, was always the gracious host. A few years later we went to visit Josie in Woodland Hospital, days before she passed. She’d been in a nursing home for a while. Her daughter informed her who was visiting, and the strangest thing happened. Josie sat up in bed and started talking. “Rick, let me introduce you to _____ (someone I’d never met from her past). Oh, and over there is Jesus, I know you’d like to meet him. Isn’t this the grandest party!” Her daughter explained it was a near death phenomena, remembering people from years ago, thinking of her religious heroes, and merging it all with people in the room whom she recognized.
As I stood there with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Josie’s vision was about to come true. Thank you, Josie Allen, for being one of the dearest friends, one who nudged me on, encouraging me on this Christian path. I can see your smile, hear your laugh, see the twinkle in your eyes. And when I slip through the wardrobe to heaven one day, I’ll be anxious for the introductions you’ll make. You, dear lady, are not forgotten.
Cross Point: “Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from earnest counsel” (Prov. 27:9). Be an unexpected encourager for someone in your life who needs a friend.
Rick’s blog: rickwilliswrites.wordpress.com (Vetus Via)
Or go to the SHCC app under “Connect” for Cross Points
Posted in Cross Points