"Fastballs, Curves, and the Sprint for Home"

Memories of Warren Moore (by Ernest Dow)

Nov.29, 20041

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1-2 NRSV)

       I was privileged to have known Warren since Grade 5. He was my classmate until the end of high school. I remember Warren as always friendly, fun, yet trustworthy. Somebody you wanted to be around and could call on if you needed anything. He was an all-around great guy, with an easy-going personality, but not one to waste time either. It was easy to like Warren.

       Throughout our school years, he was a strong athlete, playing on various sports teams. I think I played soccer with him up til the junior level in high school. He was also in the Glee Club - a good singer, he enjoyed music.

       But the time I remember interacting most with Warren was playing baseball. As a Blyth resident remarked the other day, Warren "was a terrific fastball pitcher". In our early teen years, I was his catcher. Warren was 'in his element' on the mound: not just fast, but very accurate; he had great control of that 'windmill'. In our eloquent terminology of the day, Warren had "stuff": risers, sinkers, curve balls - and I had to try to catch them!

       From 1975 to '99 there was a gap when we went our separate ways vocationally: Warren took forestry at Sir Sandford Fleming, I went to Guelph. In those years Warren became a husband, a father, and an expert forester. He enjoyed 'cruising' the bush on his quad. Many in this area will remember him as the guy that marked their bush or developed a custom forest management plan.

       Meanwhile, Warren was investing his life in other ways as a volunteer in the community: coaching teams and staying an active player; helping with Scouts; joining the Volunteer Fire Department; going to church; although it must be admitted he picked up some "Nasty Habits" along the way - musically speaking. By giving of himself as a volunteer, Warren leaves an ongoing legacy of lives touched and support for his survivors through the contacts he made in these community groups.

       Our paths crossed again in '99 when I became his pastor, and his wife (Donna) was my 'Administrative Assistant' and Sunday School Superintendent. I was exposed to Warren's love for trees when he willingly agreed to help plant some flowering crabs between the church parking lot and the manse. Another time, he offered advice after I was looking out the manse kitchen window during a thunderstorm and saw the big spruce struck with lightning, which split its bark open and set pitch ablaze.

       My wife Yvonne and I would often go on walks down by the Greenway Trail; we and many others benefitted from Warren's work with students each summer - blazing new paths through the underbrush, or improving existing ones. Warren applied his love of nature and ecology, and probably thus also enthused others.

       Then, without explanation, life threw Warren a deadly curve ball. The onset of abdominal cancer took everybody by surprise. Warren had to undergo chemo; he welcomed the diversion of a cribbage game or two. Then there seemed to be a period of recovery when he was able to work again. But the cancer returned with a vengeance; he received the grim news that there was nothing more medical science could do for him.

       Here's where Warren's character really shone. For one thing, he could have become self-destructive: the prospect of death by cancer is pretty daunting. Yet Warren determined not to hasten his death or short-circuit God's brief gift of life, but to "take it like a man": he toughed it out to the end, with courage and honour. He was humble enough to ask for help, too, when there was something we could do for him.

       In addition, Warren could have become angry at God, bitter and resentful for the loss of "stolen" years of life we all presume upon. But I detected no such bitterness. He admitted sometimes he wondered the inevitable question, "Why?" -- a perfectly natural question -- for which no satisfactory answer exists. Warren continued to welcome my visits, and even talk of final matters and spiritual things. We talked about how someone can be sure of an eternal home in heaven, because Jesus has gone ahead of us as our "pioneer" (Heb.12:2), to 'scout' out the way, to blaze a trail through the thickets of the underworld. We discussed how believing in Jesus means we HAVE eternal life here and now: we have already crossed over from death to life, so need not fear judgment (John 5:24). How Christian faith is "an anchor that keeps the soul steadfast and sure while the billows roll", as an old gospel song puts it.

       The last days were the hardest, as Warren was constantly fighting to get his breath due to the pressure of the fluid buildup. His energy reserves were all used up, the once-strong pitcher's arm reduced to skin and bone. It was hard work for him, but he hung in there. I likened it to rounding third base then realizing there had to be a final sprint for home. The afternoon before he died, I read some of Psalm 104 to him. I call it the "ecology psalm" because it talks of the diversity of God's creatures, including the cedars of Lebanon that He planted; "the trees of the Lord are well watered". There's even a hint of the Resurrection - despite living things returning "to the dust", God sends His Spirit and renewal (Ps.104:16,29f). When I'd finished, between laboured breaths, Warren grunted definitely, "That's good!"

       Throughout Warren's trial of terminal illness, he reflected the faith of Job - the Biblical character whose name is practically synonymous with undeserved suffering. Job said, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." (Job 13:15 KJV) There's a parallel even to Jesus accepting the terminal cup of suffering on the cross, if it be His Father's will, in order that our sins could be forgiven (Mk.14:36).

       In such surrender and trust, Warren exemplified for us what it means to "let go and let God". Anybody can throw a ball fast. If it's me, it'll be way off the mark! The difference is, a real pitcher knows when to let go. That's the critical moment at which you're no longer in control, you have to trust you've done your best and it'll work itself out. Even when faced with life's hardest-hitter of deadly disease, Warren had that knack, that touch.

       His life has passed as surprisingly fast as one of his fastballs. But we thank God for having known him: it was a great pitch!