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Netta Mabel (Downard) McKray (1964)

DOWNARD, MCKRAY

Posted By: Pat Hochstetler
Date: 10/2/2008 at 17:31:51

The Earlham Echo
Earlham, Iowa
Thursday, October 8, 1964

Funeral Services for Mrs. John McKray

Funeral services were held at the Dexter Presbyterian church for Mrs. John McKray, 87.

Rev. Albert Bullock was in charge of services. Organist was Nadine Shepherd.

Casket bearers were Pete Ohrt, John Baldwin, Chester Ledlie, James Hill, H. R. Isenberg and M. M. Neal.

Interment was in Earlham cemetery.

Obituary

Netta Mabel Downard, daughter of George and Ada Archer Downard, was born at Waterville, Kansas January 4, 1877 and passed from this life September 28, 1964.

Here she grew to womanhood. After finishing high school and a college course at Campbell College, Holton, Kansas, she taught school in Kansas for two years and in Iowa for four years.

She was a member from childhood of the English Lutheran church. In after years when not finding a church of that faith, she was always ready and so willing to help with the work of the church where she lived; in the Sunday School, the choir and the women’s organization in the Presbyterian church at Earlham. After coming to Dexter, she transferred her membership to the Dexter church. She was a member of the Iris Garden Club, also a member of the Rebekah lodge for many years.

On March 29, 1906, she was united in marriage to John J. McKray of Iowa City. Most of their married life was spent farming where they always worked happily together. She loved the out of doors, often said she felt near her Lord among the flowers, many times saying: Flowers are the smiles of God, or a tree is a symbol of God’s love.

A poem found in her scrapbook, and marked a favorite, expresses what she felt of the “life beyond.”

Death is only an open door
In an old garden wall
Where gentle breezes come at eve
And thrushes softly call.

Across the lintel are green leaves,
Beyond the light lies still;
Very weary and willing feet
Go quietly over the sill.

Nothing to trouble my heart,
Nothing to hurt at all.
Death is only an open door
In an old garden wall.

Gravesite
 

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