Thelma
April 18, 2005
Dear Ladies:
THANK YOU
From the bottom of my heart for the wonderful purple heart quilt blocks sent to me in remembrance of my Mother, Thelma Moore. She was a wonderful woman of worth, with her loving, caring, cooking, sewing, and her existence.
She grew up very poor in a small community in and around Ada, OK. She married William Moore when she was very young and for a time, they lived with relatives. William enlisted in the Army and they lived in New York for a brief time. They went on to have 4 children, three daughters, and one son, who died after birth.
Mother worked as a scrub tech at Valley View hospital for several years, continued to raise her daughters, and then began to nurture her grandchildren as they arrived one by one. Her home was always in motion with family in and out, grabbing a warm, buttery, biscuit or downing a glass of sweet tea. Mother liked to sew and she had bags of scrap fabric that was always ready to be made into Barbie clothes. Her sewing room was in a bedroom of which there was a tiny space for the bed, and piles of "stuff" everywhere else. There were patterns hanging with straight pins on curtains, ready to be made up as time allowed. Because money was scarce and she was very frugal, buying yards of different fabric never entered her mind. Fabric was salvaged from old clothing, table clothes, etc. I remember a visit she made to my home in her later years, after she had quit sewing. She walked into my sewing room and saw the shelves of fabric, threads, patterns, and just went goofy on me. She started going thru the fabric, pulling out this pattern and another pattern. She had a nice pile of fat quarters, and half yards and wanted to know if she could take this home and make something. "Of course" I said, "Take anything you want Mom." When I went to visit her several weeks later, she had taken straight pins and thumb tack and hung these pieces on her bedroom and bathroom walls. She stated she just wanted to look at them because they were so pretty. Her talent with living things, whether they were people, plants or animals was magic. She could expose her temper if she felt something was not right, and then feed you or hug you to give you comfort! It was her way. She fed everything and everyone who came to her door. There were beans, cornbread, or biscuits always cooking and sweet tea of course, to cool your senses. She would often make homemade fried pies and put them in a bowl to be devoured by friends or family. She was always feeding a stray cat, dog, bird, or whatever. Her ability to take a leaf and put it in a chipped cup with dirt, and watch it grow was magical. Her back porch was like a greenhouse with all kinds of blooming and non-blooming vegetation. One of my favorite memories was visiting during the winter time. There was a floor furnace in between the living/family room, (which had at one time been the kitchen). Bill had built on a new large kitchen for her, but there was no heat except for the floor furnace which was 2 rooms away!! I would wake up in the morning and she would be stirring around in the kitchen. I would walk back to the kitchen and all the gas burners would be ablaze on the gas stove, the oven door would be open if nothing was baking…the two large windows by the kitchen table would be glazed with frost and moisture from the inside heat meeting the outside cold.
Mother’s birthday was December 13th. My birthday is Dec. 12. One of the things my sisters learned at an early age was not to give her a birthday present a day early, on Dec. 12.
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On Dec. 12, 1944 I was adopted by a wonderful family in Wichita Ks. I grew up in a privileged home with an older adopted brother, and two wonderful parents who loved and adored me. I always knew I was adopted and was told that someday I would be told who my biological Mother was. When that day came, in 1970, I was given a box full of letters and pictures of unknown people. As I began to sift thru the box, I saw pictures of people who looked like me. There were three girls in pictures while they posed on a front porch, or in a yard playing. Then I saw a picture of this woman…who looked like me in many ways. Mom said, "this is Thelma Moore…she came to Wichita to stay with a sister and give birth to you. Thelma’s husband was in Germany when she became pregnant with you, and she felt she had no choice but to give you up for adoption.". I was told how much she loved me, and I saw how they had communicated all these years with pictures and letters. For almost 14 years these two women had kept the line of communication open to share bits and pieces of each others' lives. Bless my Mother who raised me, for sharing my life with Thelma, so she would not worry that I was being well taken care of. The Mother who raised me died in 1989, my Father in 1974, and my only brother died also in 1989.
The Lord has worked in mysterious ways in my life…and I can look back and see where everything was planned for me by his great knowledge. Tho I have lost the family I grew up with, I still have 3 wonderful sister and many nieces and nephews that love me and that I love dearly. My sisters, and William Moore accepted me without reservation after I called Thelma for the first time in 1970. That is a wonderful story by itself!!
Well, the rest is history, but I wanted you all to know about this blessed woman who gave birth to me, planted me where I would be safe, and then made up for lost time in the 30 some years I have known her and been with her. The purple heart blocks are just perfect for a memorial in her memory.
I am sending a picture of me and my sisters taken at Mothers funeral.
Thank you, again.
Sharon-Ks
This is a very true story about a quilt.
