Hugh Morris Pace
April 27, 1951-Sept. 13, 2009
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6 Entries
Diane Feesago
September 23, 2009
I didn't even know his name. I saw him all the time in the halls of Calvary Fellowship, vacunming, straightening chairs, cleaning something. A man of few words, he had a servant's heart for The Lord. You could see it in every thing he did and the way he did it without fanfare or seeking recognition. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better, dear Morris. Enjoy your reward with Our Saviour!
September 23, 2009
Well Morris is in paradise today lucky dog, absent with the body is present with the Lord.
Jesus said in John 5:28/29 Do not marvel at this for an hour is coming in which all who are in the grave shall hear His voice and shall come forth.
Ted Mouser
September 22, 2009
Morris was a dear friend whom I all too often took for granted. Though Morris appeared pretty much a "fixture" around Calvary Fellowship gatherings when I first affiliated in 2000, it wasn't until I began my long recovery from drug abuse in April 2005 that Morris truly became a part of my life. It was in June of that year that I determined to get to know who Morris—that enigmatic "fixture" at church—was, and we began fellowshipping at various bible studies and other Calvary gatherings together.
In July 2005, I asked Morris to share my empty home; the home I once shared with my family before I so careless fell at the altar of drugs and loose living. Had it not been for Morris during that most critical time, I doubt I would have remained clean and sober. My second chance would have never gotten off the ground. I would have likely returned to the streets and now be dead! Morris and I were always together. We attended church and bible studies together; he managed to bring home needed groceries from food banks and giving friends; we signed on at Labor Ready together and went off to work together each morning, returning home together every night. I cooked and cleaned for us and ensured Morris took his medication, was comfortable and safe; he helped me care for my numerous exotic birds; he made me laugh (and occasionally tested my patience). We took care of each other. Again, had it not been for Morris at that most vulnerable time in my life, I do believe the emptiness of that old house would have been too much for me to bear.
In October 2005, I determined to sell the house and leave the Seattle area for Memphis. Morris, never objecting or complaining about where he might lay his head, instead supported my decision and helped move my household goods into storage. In fact, even after I was moved out and was temporarily residing in a borrowed space in my godparents’ basement pending my relocation to Memphis, Morris insisted on working with me ten-plus hours a day for the next three weeks—long into gray November in a cold storage unit in Lynnwood, unpacking and repacking hundreds of boxes and items that represented the past 49 years of my life. He rejected any sort of payment in lieu of a warm meal, an occasional ride and my friendship. Morris gave up working for pay for Labor Ready—or anyone else—so that he might minister to me. That was what I came to know and appreciate most about Morris Pace: He placed others before himself, truly sacrificially.
Morris made it a point to call me every Saturday afternoon after I moved to Memphis, not to say anything in particular, but, quite simply, to keep in touch and let me know that I was in his prayers and thoughts. If anyone helped me to understand that I was never forgotten, that I was a friend who meant something to someone, it was Morris Pace. He was faithful like that. He never missed a Saturday. Sadly, I too often considered his calling an annoyance, and as time went on, I increasingly ignored Morris’ calls. That “1 missed call” glaring back at me from my cell phone was a chilling reminder that I was turning my back on a true friend. Just the same, Morris continued to call. A lesson in faithfulness I should have taken more seriously.
If I have learned anything in my relationship with Hugh Morris Pace, it is that God truly does use humble means—and people—to confound (and humble) those who might think a little too much of themselves. Morris gave me perspective. Trouble is, it was not until I learned of Morris’ death a week ago last Sunday morning that that perspective resounded so clearly. And more than mere perspective, Morris is now teaching me that taking others for granted is one failing none of us afford to do!
Morris was there at one of the most crucial junctures of my life. He never asked anything of me. If I failed to offer a helping hand, Morris just went on about his business the best way he could at the time. Morris’ smile easily melted a cold heart. I know; I was that cold heart.
Morris, the gaping hole you left in my life—in so very many, many lives—is huge! I miss you now more than I ever did in the past when we were separated by thousands of miles. I know I shouldn’t weep for you, yet I do. You are with our Lord and Savior, enjoying the rewards of eternity His shed blood earned for us at Golgotha. My sadness now is due my own selfishness and pride. I miss—and envy you, now, and I look forward to seeing you on the other side, when I too will pass from this life here on earth to life everlasting.
Thank you for being so entirely significant in a world that too frequently thought—and acted—otherwise. You will always remain an important part of my life, brother.
See you soon,
Ted Mouser
“It is not that I am lonely for you . . . I am mutilated, for you were a part of me.” –Robinson Jeffers
Hank Greaves
September 22, 2009
Morris will be missed by me. He was a good man and a friend. I know that he is in a better place now with his Lord Jesus
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Lisa Moe
September 22, 2009
I will miss seeing Morris at Calvary - He was such a willing servant in everyway and always smiling - I will miss that.
I will always remember how he wanted to make sure I got a copy of the worship recordings; I still have them all.
Lisa Moe
September 21, 2009
Morris will be greatly missed by myself and my children. He had a huge heart!!! He is definately walking with the Lord as it should be. If the Red Socks only knew their biggest fan, Mary Nelson and family
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