Melba’s Morning Glory Legacy
Morning Glory runs on support from thousands of people. And for every teacher, employee, volunteer, intern, and director that sets foot on Morning Glory, there are dozens of friends and family praying, mentoring, and helping behind the scenes.
Morning Glory has lost one of the biggest supporters we will ever know. Melba Pinney, wife of Herb Pinney and mother of Dean and Lori has gone to be with Our Lord for eternity. Today, Herb, Lori, & Dean share stories, memories, and lessons learned from Melba that shaped the very core of Morning Glory since day one and into the unseen future.
|
|
|
When asked to write only two or three paragraphs about Melba Pinney, I said that was mission impossible, but I will try
Moving to California during WW2, a Christian Doctor gave Herb exercises to get rid of the ankle braces and a lifestyle prescription to ride his bicycle everywhere he could and climb ever mountain and I did. I struggled with school and even in sub-level classes my grades were like Death Valley: below sea level. Mother was always glad to point out my excellent younger sister made all A+s. Later diagnosis pointed out I was severe dyslexic, calcium deprived and had other learning disabilities. I was a mess and it was pointed out regularly. In the summer of 1951, due to my involvement in our church, my emotional walker of sorts, and scouting, I was selected on staff at Pepperdine with college students. This changed everything. I retuned to the 12th grade determined to have college prep classes and go to college to stop being a loser and take control of my life and stop being a victim. I got a lot of snide remarks and unbelieving teachers and family, but my bull-headedness kicked in and God directed me to the smartest girl in a school of 2,000 students and she and I fought in how to get me ready for college. As pushy as she was, she always had positive words for me. I wanted an easy trail and she told me it was to be the hardest mountain I ever climbed and we went to work.
With no formal training, she taught me to read well and understand. She turned my book upside down and forced me to read from the lower right corner to the left of the page. My eyes had to focus on one word at a time.
That began 66 years of Melba being the behind-the-scene catalyst for my high speed life in the Son. At the same time, Melba Pinney had a very rewarding and very effective ministry of her own. She was the hard-nose mother to the world. She understood babies to the elderly better than most PhD’s and was better at healing sicknesses with prayer and home remedies than the local hospital.
It may be a hypothesis contrary to fact, but if not for Melba I most likely would have spent my life pumping gas or as a mechanic. But, because of Melba and God pushing me, there are three churches in the USA, two mission assignments from Jesus that would take a million in cold cash to replace, and the 27,000 square mile Navajo Reservation would not have Christianity. The fact that Jesus Christ is now proclaimed freely in Navajo land is priceless,
When you come and visit Morning Glory Christian Academy you see Lori and family everywhere. Yes, Herb and Dean’s finger prints are everywhere as well. But the loving but hard- nose catalyst and round-the-clock prayer warrior was Melba. God knows how she will be missed.
|
|
| To see Melba’s official obituary on Herb’s facebook, click here |
|
|
 |
|
Melba, Dale, & Herb Pinney
|
|
Ten days have come and gone since Mom graduated to heaven. Days that I have searched for words to put on paper that would express what Mom meant to me. So many memories have played through my mind these last two weeks as I struggle to process a lifetime gone by.
Mom was a woman of faith. Raised a southern Baptist, Mom joined the Christian Church when she married my dad just one year out of high school. Then she and Dad moved away from their families to Socorro, New Mexico where Dad was a student at New Mexico School of Mining Technology. It was here that my brother and I were born and it was here that Dad made the decision to go into the ministry. As a young girl I remember listening to stories of those first years living in a simple adobe home with homemade furniture. From those very first years of marriage Mom learned to live by faith. Mom was a woman of prayer. She believed that God heard and answered our every prayer, and Mom prayed about everything. She would pray about weather, she would pray about food, and she would tell God just about anything. And she taught us to pray. Our bedtime stories were not about the Three Little Pigs, Goldilocks or Cinderella. Mom would tell stories from the Bible and stories about when God answered her prayers. I remember her talking about when I didn’t have shoes and five dollars came in the mail, when there was no food for supper and a church lady showed up with a plate of fried chicken.
The second most important thing about Mom’s faith was her hope of heaven. Mom never had a fancy earthly home and she never worried about it. Mom´s mansion was in heaven and she talked about it and sang about it constantly. I grew up to songs like, “I’ve Got a Mansion, “ “Some Sweet Day” “I’ll Meet you in the Morning,” and her favorite lullaby, “Farther Along.” Each song she loved had one common thread: the hope of heaven. Mom lived for her faith and the hope of heaven.
Thirdly, Mom was a mom. Her life revolved around children: her children, the neighborhood children, children at church, foster children, and generally any lost child who would wander by. Some of my dearest memories are of the summer before I left for college. I worked afternoon shift as a waitress and Mom worked night shift at the local seven eleven convenience store. I would get off work at eleven, drive to Vidor, and stop by the store to visit with Mom before going home to sleep. Often times, we would talk for hours between customers. During that summer I watched as Mom mothered and scolded with love the endless stream of teenagers who frequented that store. She knew them by name, she knew their problems and struggles, and she knew exactly when to scold, when to listen, and when to love. I watched and learned never knowing that forty-plus years later I would be doing the exact same thing with the teenagers that wander in and out of my office.
Mom mothered every child her life touched. She was the original “baby whisperer”. There wasn’t a crying baby that she could not calm, there wasn’t a problem that she could not solve. Raising kids is what she did best using consistent discipline, schedules set in stone, and plenty of hugs and kisses. Mom taught babies how to praise God; babies whose first words would be Jesus and God. I can close my eyes and see the row of baby carriers on the table with toddler chairs behind as Mom would sing “Jesus Loves Me” and tell stories about Moses, Abraham, Joseph, Mary and Jesus to babies. Over the years mom raised countless children and taught countless young women how to be a mother. She lived to be Mom.
On the eleventh of April at suppertime, Mom passed from grace to glory. She walked down those golden streets and got the key to her heavenly mansion which I am willing to bet is filled with children who need a heavenly mom. My mind can imagine her rocking the baby who died in childbirth, comforting the child who died of cancer, and scolding the teenager who made a bad decision. Mom will always be that in my mind: the epitome of a motherly spirit from the very heart of God.
|
|
Excerpts from Dean Pinney:
|
|
Prayer. Boy she could pray. When mom prayed, heaven listened. I always told her that if God had a wallet, her picture was the first in the collection. It was unnerving how much her prayers were answered. When I was little, I traveled with her all over the country as she transported cars for dad’s dealerships. We would be driving and the dark clouds would roll in and mom would pray out loud, “Lord, you know I don’t like driving in the rain. Would you please hold this storm until we get through?” and to my amazement, He always did. Even times when the storms were already howling, she would pray, “God, would it be too much for me to ask for you to hold these storms until we get through here?” and the skies would rest for the half hour that it took for us to pass and then they returned to their regularly scheduled chaos.
Wisdom. It was around that table where Mom dispensed her wisdom. “Pretty is as pretty does…” she would comment when Jenifer would complain that the girls at school called her ugly. “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all…” as she tried to see how long I could remain silent. “If you treat others the way you want to be treated, you are more likely to get that treatment.” But there was something else that happened at the dinner table. When everyone but Mom had finished their dessert, and you would ask if she wanted that last piece of pie, she would always say she was too full to eat it and hand it to you. Truth was she was looking forward to some sweet dessert too.
Home. I will never forget the smell of home. I can close my eyes right now and still smell it. The Piney woods, the flowers, the rain that was always lingering in the air…and mom’s perfume. She hardly ever wore any, commenting that she has “better things to spend her money on”. But that never stopped dad from getting her the latest “Smell-Pretty” that was available. Mom was the boss at home, there was no arguing that fact. And she ran a tight ship; mess with her and you might find yourself being chased with a broom (I wish I was kidding about that). Home was also that place where you were safe. You just knew no matter how bad things got out there, that if you could just make it home, things would be ok. Trip after trip around the world always ended with walking through that door; finally home. It wasn’t that our house was fancy, it was not. It wasn’t that we had the latest and greatest entertainment features, we did not. Our furniture was second-hand, and our dining room table was made by hand, and to move our dresser you would need a helping hand. but it was home. There was no demon great enough who could follow you into that sanctuary—because that’s the kind of home mom made.
Tonight, she is having Dinner with the King; and she is home at last. I love you mom, I am already getting homesick.
|
|
 |
| Praises! We thank God for the life Melba led to teach about Jesus. We thank God for the World Race team we have with us now. We look forward to the arrival of our interns in about a month. We thank God for the cameras and building funds He provided to protect our students and make a new office. |
 |
|
Prayers! Pray for the Pinney family and all of their friends as they mourn the loss of Melba. Pray for Herb as he deals with the decisions and new challenges. Pray for safe travels for Lori’s family as they attend the service. Pray that God will prepare the harvest of an Raymundo as interns, groups, and Casas por Cristo groups will minister to so many people soon.
|
|
|
|
