A Table Still Set: Remembering Mozelle
There are people whose lives preach louder than any sermon. They don’t need microphones or titles, because their holiness is found in the ordinary — the sound of a pot stirring, the steady rhythm of a school bus on a mountain road, the laughter that rises from a kitchen after a long day’s work.
This week, on October 18, 2025, Mozelle Moss Moore peacefully entered her heavenly home at age 93. Her life was a long, steady hymn of faith — one verse after another, lived in service, love, and the kind of grace that shows up early and stays until the dishes are done.
Together with her husband, Pastor George Moore, Mozelle founded Glory Ridge — a camp built not just on land, but on prayer, vision, and calloused hands. When George saw a vision of a camp on the ridge, Mozelle was the one who brought it into the world. She took the dream and gave it flesh and flavor. She made it livable.
The first kitchen at Glory Ridge was a twelve-by-twelve shack of reclaimed wood, standing on stilts and swaying in the mountain wind. From that fragile space, Mozelle fed the multitudes — local boys cutting briars, visiting youth groups, weary pastors, and anyone who happened to wander in hungry. Soup beans, cornbread, cobblers, and her famous banana pudding. Her meals were never just food; they were sacraments of belonging.
Mozelle often said, “When you work, work hard. When you sit, sit loose.” That was her theology. To her, every meal was worship, every broom was a prayer, every act of care a small piece of the Kingdom coming near.
For over thirty years, she also drove a school bus through the winding roads of Madison County, greeting each child as if they were her own. Her ministry wasn’t limited to pulpits or sanctuaries; it rolled on four wheels, with laughter and kindness as her cargo.
She and George served in eleven churches across six states, and in every place, she left a trail of friendship, faith, and food shared around tables. She loved deeply and served quietly.
When George passed in 2018, we said the Ridge had lost its shepherd.
Now, as Mozelle goes home, it feels as if we’ve lost our heart.
And yet — the heart is still beating.
If you walk up the ridge today, you’ll find the camp office built from the old boards of Mozelle’s cook shack. You can still smell the wood, sun-warmed and worn smooth from decades of work. Listen closely, and you might hear echoes of her laughter, the clang of pans, the hum of hymns sung between pots of soup.
Mozelle’s legacy is not only in what she built, but in the way she made all of us builders — of tables, of friendships, of faith. She taught us that the holiest thing you can do is to serve someone a meal with joy.
As we remember her, may we keep her table set — not with fine china, but with open hearts.
May we keep her spirit alive every time we feed one another, laugh in the kitchen, or stop our work long enough to breathe in grace.
And may we, like Mozelle, learn again how to make our work worship.
If you wish to make a donation to the continuation of Mozelle’s work you may do so here: https://www.gloryridge.org/donate