Gentle and quiet by nature, my Grandma Beard spoke very little. She wasn't the kind of person who handed out words of advice; in fact I recall very little in the way of conversation with her. What I do remember about Grandma influences me greatly even after all these years.
The stories Dad shared of his childhood made me aware they lived a hard life in those days of the Great Depression. Typical in so many ways, it was made worse by Grandpa's tendency to uproot his family and move on when situations on the job didn't go just right. It happened so often Grandma couldn't have had time to really settle in or to form friendships. The houses they lived in were small and cramped, dark and dingy. It was up to Grandma to somehow make homes out of them, always with the thought that it wouldn't be long before they would load up and take off for the next house in the next town for the next offer of work.
Grandma never commented on the "old days", good or bad, as far as I remember. It wasn't until she was gone and I was a grandmother myself that I found out she was especially fond of one particular farmhouse they rented. The snapshot my uncle showed us was of a rambling, three-story house, stately and surprisingly pretty for those times. Apparently Grandma would have stayed there a long time if it had been up to her, but after one year she had to say goodbye to the big old house. True to her usual style, she left without complaining, and my guess is she probably never thought it necessary to even speak of the house afterward.
There's an old saying that actions speak louder than words. I think in Grandma's case, actions were her words. They told me she believed in hard work, whether she was on a ladder picking cherries, churning butter from the day's milk, or hanging laundry on the clothesline, all with hardly a comment from her lips. Her actions said she believed in God; she could be seen reading the Bible every day without a word, and on Sundays church attendance was not debated, it was simply done.
One of her actions spoke so loudly it's what I always remember first about her: no matter what was going on around her, no matter what she was busy doing, Grandma Beard was never without a song. Sometimes she quietly sang the words, but most of the time the hymns rising up from her heart came out in humming. This was definitely not for show; in fact, it was barely audible. There was such a peaceful intimacy about it, as if she was in her own little world alone with God. It touched me when I was younger and it moves me now just thinking about it.
It has been said that when we act and keep on acting on a thought, it becomes routine. Routines eventually become habits, habits establish character, and character brings us to our destiny. By the time I witnessed this lovely habit of Grandma's, it seemed to be as natural to her as breathing. I suspect that one day right in the middle of some disappointment, the thought came to her mind to praise God no matter what. She acted on that thought...
Part of Grandma Beard's destiny was to show the world around her the effects of constantly praising God. There couldn't be anyone more at peace than she was. Guarding her words and yielding to praise one hymn at a time, she welcomed His character in her life. His loving nature became her nature, reaching out to all of us who knew her.
I am grateful to be one recipient of a legacy with no material value, grateful for the life-long influence of a grandma who continually praised our Lord.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Her Name is Rachel
Leaving the lodge after a three-day conference for women, I tried to process what I had gained and just how great the weekend had been. As I maneuvered the lake roads, I praised God and settled in for the hour-long drive home. Soon the thought came that I needed to make no stops on the way; I sensed the thought was from God and I said out loud, "Ok, Father...I'll just keep on driving." And I was happy to do just that.
Then I saw...The Store. It was one I'd been hearing about, newly opened, and there was the parking lot entry just up ahead. With hardly any reaction time, I made the turn and pulled up in front of the shopping paradise I had been dreaming of! Fantastic!
But you said you'd go straight home. (Conscience calling.) It's all right, I'll just run in, take a quick look around, and run right back out again. It won't take long at all.
But YOU SAID you'd go straight home. It's o-kay! I may not have this chance again for a long time, and all I need is a few minutes!
My flesh won that round with hardly a struggle. I got myself organized, opened the car door, reached for the keys in the ignition...they weren't there. Wait a minute...I looked in my purse...no keys. I looked on the seat beside me. I felt around on the floor. Then I jumped out of the car and thoroughly searched everywhere I could think to look. NO KEYS. Back in the driver's seat. They have to be in my purse...I started emptying it out for better results. When that didn't work, I got a little frantic. Those keys could not just disappear! I got outside again, groped under the seat, behind the seat and looked once more under the car. "THIS IS TOTALLY CRAZY!" I said with exasperation...and then...I just stopped.
Sliding back into my car, I couldn't help but chuckle as the whole thing hit me. What was I thinking, Father? I'm sorry. I need to do what I said I would do, and whatever's in that store is obviously not worth it, so if You'll show me my keys now, I'll get back on the road.
As unbelievable as it sounds, within about one second my eyes fell on the keys I absolutely could not see a moment before! Thank You, Father. I threw my head back and laughed. Once I was blind, but now I can see! Let's go home!
As I pulled back into traffic, a talk show was just getting started on my favorite Christian radio station. The program was about ministering to people mourning the loss of their stillborn babies. I found myself relating to much of what was said, even though 25 years had passed since I lost a baby, and the situation for me had been miscarriage. The counselor spoke of the importance of naming these babies, saying it gives a necessary closure, helping the healing process. He talked about how using the child's name in future conversations would add to the whole family's wellbeing.
It wasn't long before I figured out parts of my soul still needed healing. The laughter of a few minutes ago was replaced by tears slipping down my cheeks - and I was so sure I was beyond all this! "I'm so very glad I heard this," I told the Lord when it was over, "and You knew I would be. You knew if I got sidetracked by that store, the program on the airwaves would never have hit my ears, and I would have missed something BIG!"
"I don't know if this child of mine is a boy or a girl, but You do, Father, and I'm asking You in Jesus' name to let me know his or her name. Thank You, Lord, for providing everything I need, even when I don't know I need it!"
A few days after my return home, the answer came. There was no audible voice, but from somewhere right in the middle of my spirit came this: "Her name is Rachel." Her name is Rachel! I have another daughter and my daughters have another sister! Praise God...Thank You, God...You are so incomparably good to Your children!!
Passing that particular obedience test, even a little bit late, blessed me in ways I still find hard to understand or to describe. Knowing Rachel's name has taken the hard edges off the loss of her. It has made her real. She has gone from being "the baby I lost in 1975" to being a beautiful, sweet daughter who travels around Heaven visiting with her dad and a host of grandparents and other relatives. I imagine her cheering on her sisters and me and the rest of the family as we gain spiritual ground, eagerly anticipating our own gathering together time...and it's a lovely, comforting picture.
You know, every time I remember "losing" my keys for a few minutes one day, I smile. Giving up on a quick shopping trip I didn't need placed me in position to receive such a truly valuable gift from God, the gift of knowing her name is Rachel.
Then I saw...The Store. It was one I'd been hearing about, newly opened, and there was the parking lot entry just up ahead. With hardly any reaction time, I made the turn and pulled up in front of the shopping paradise I had been dreaming of! Fantastic!
But you said you'd go straight home. (Conscience calling.) It's all right, I'll just run in, take a quick look around, and run right back out again. It won't take long at all.
But YOU SAID you'd go straight home. It's o-kay! I may not have this chance again for a long time, and all I need is a few minutes!
My flesh won that round with hardly a struggle. I got myself organized, opened the car door, reached for the keys in the ignition...they weren't there. Wait a minute...I looked in my purse...no keys. I looked on the seat beside me. I felt around on the floor. Then I jumped out of the car and thoroughly searched everywhere I could think to look. NO KEYS. Back in the driver's seat. They have to be in my purse...I started emptying it out for better results. When that didn't work, I got a little frantic. Those keys could not just disappear! I got outside again, groped under the seat, behind the seat and looked once more under the car. "THIS IS TOTALLY CRAZY!" I said with exasperation...and then...I just stopped.
Sliding back into my car, I couldn't help but chuckle as the whole thing hit me. What was I thinking, Father? I'm sorry. I need to do what I said I would do, and whatever's in that store is obviously not worth it, so if You'll show me my keys now, I'll get back on the road.
As unbelievable as it sounds, within about one second my eyes fell on the keys I absolutely could not see a moment before! Thank You, Father. I threw my head back and laughed. Once I was blind, but now I can see! Let's go home!
As I pulled back into traffic, a talk show was just getting started on my favorite Christian radio station. The program was about ministering to people mourning the loss of their stillborn babies. I found myself relating to much of what was said, even though 25 years had passed since I lost a baby, and the situation for me had been miscarriage. The counselor spoke of the importance of naming these babies, saying it gives a necessary closure, helping the healing process. He talked about how using the child's name in future conversations would add to the whole family's wellbeing.
It wasn't long before I figured out parts of my soul still needed healing. The laughter of a few minutes ago was replaced by tears slipping down my cheeks - and I was so sure I was beyond all this! "I'm so very glad I heard this," I told the Lord when it was over, "and You knew I would be. You knew if I got sidetracked by that store, the program on the airwaves would never have hit my ears, and I would have missed something BIG!"
"I don't know if this child of mine is a boy or a girl, but You do, Father, and I'm asking You in Jesus' name to let me know his or her name. Thank You, Lord, for providing everything I need, even when I don't know I need it!"
A few days after my return home, the answer came. There was no audible voice, but from somewhere right in the middle of my spirit came this: "Her name is Rachel." Her name is Rachel! I have another daughter and my daughters have another sister! Praise God...Thank You, God...You are so incomparably good to Your children!!
Passing that particular obedience test, even a little bit late, blessed me in ways I still find hard to understand or to describe. Knowing Rachel's name has taken the hard edges off the loss of her. It has made her real. She has gone from being "the baby I lost in 1975" to being a beautiful, sweet daughter who travels around Heaven visiting with her dad and a host of grandparents and other relatives. I imagine her cheering on her sisters and me and the rest of the family as we gain spiritual ground, eagerly anticipating our own gathering together time...and it's a lovely, comforting picture.
You know, every time I remember "losing" my keys for a few minutes one day, I smile. Giving up on a quick shopping trip I didn't need placed me in position to receive such a truly valuable gift from God, the gift of knowing her name is Rachel.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
He Was So Wrong...
One day not long ago, five words out of a man's mouth hurt me like I'd been punched in the face.
He is not part of the family nor our church family; he's not even a friend. He's a professional man we've dealt with only a little. He made a personal, verbal attack against me with no background and no basis of truth. I was totally unprepared for his remark and it absolutely shocked me. Pretty quickly, the shock wore off and I got mad. Before long, the anger got worse and I justified hanging on to it, because, after all... he was so wrong!
Five little words made me feel belittled and condemned. They were so completely unfair. Every time I remembered them, hot tears would spring up and demand a fight.
After stroking my indignation and pain a few days, I took notice of the wall building up between the Lord and me. My desire for Him was being choked out; anxiety and unrest were taking its place. His Word, so powerfully life-changing usually, had become dry and impersonal. It seemed I could hardly stay focused during prayer time. As I thought about this, a reprimand rose up in my spirit: You don't think you need to forgive this guy. You think the fact that you're so right and he's so very wrong makes you exempt from having to let this go.
I tried to do what I knew was right, but the words "I forgive him" sounded hollow and fake. I really did not want to let him get away with what he had done.
It was clear I needed help, so I pulled out a book I'd read a couple years ago, Total Forgiveness by R.T. Kendall. This time I didn't have to get past the introduction. Writing about a similar time in his life, Mr. Kendall said he realized he seems to lose inner peace most quickly by allowing bitterness into his heart. "I made a decision for inner peace," he wrote. "But I found that I had to carry out that decision by a daily commitment to forgive those who hurt me, and to forgive them totally."
He said he had to let them utterly off the hook and resign himself to this knowledge:
1) The people who wronged him wouldn't get caught or found out.
2) Nobody would ever know what they did.
3) They would prosper and be blessed as if they had done no wrong.
Mr. Kendall then wrote that he actually began to will these things, praying for them to happen! He asked God to forgive them, but noted he has had to do this every day to keep the peace within his heart. "Having been on both sides," he wrote, "I can tell you: The peace is better. The bitterness isn't worth it."
Wow! With that reminder, I was able to sincerely say, "I forgive him, Father, and I bless him in Jesus' name. Forgive me for taking so long to get to this place."
Someone once said we can be right and still be wrong. It's still true that the hurtful words and the man who spoke them were wrong. But letting go of the bitterness that tried to take root in my heart was so right...definitely, the peace is so much better!
And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God...Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. From Ephesians 4:30-32
He is not part of the family nor our church family; he's not even a friend. He's a professional man we've dealt with only a little. He made a personal, verbal attack against me with no background and no basis of truth. I was totally unprepared for his remark and it absolutely shocked me. Pretty quickly, the shock wore off and I got mad. Before long, the anger got worse and I justified hanging on to it, because, after all... he was so wrong!
Five little words made me feel belittled and condemned. They were so completely unfair. Every time I remembered them, hot tears would spring up and demand a fight.
After stroking my indignation and pain a few days, I took notice of the wall building up between the Lord and me. My desire for Him was being choked out; anxiety and unrest were taking its place. His Word, so powerfully life-changing usually, had become dry and impersonal. It seemed I could hardly stay focused during prayer time. As I thought about this, a reprimand rose up in my spirit: You don't think you need to forgive this guy. You think the fact that you're so right and he's so very wrong makes you exempt from having to let this go.
I tried to do what I knew was right, but the words "I forgive him" sounded hollow and fake. I really did not want to let him get away with what he had done.
It was clear I needed help, so I pulled out a book I'd read a couple years ago, Total Forgiveness by R.T. Kendall. This time I didn't have to get past the introduction. Writing about a similar time in his life, Mr. Kendall said he realized he seems to lose inner peace most quickly by allowing bitterness into his heart. "I made a decision for inner peace," he wrote. "But I found that I had to carry out that decision by a daily commitment to forgive those who hurt me, and to forgive them totally."
He said he had to let them utterly off the hook and resign himself to this knowledge:
1) The people who wronged him wouldn't get caught or found out.
2) Nobody would ever know what they did.
3) They would prosper and be blessed as if they had done no wrong.
Mr. Kendall then wrote that he actually began to will these things, praying for them to happen! He asked God to forgive them, but noted he has had to do this every day to keep the peace within his heart. "Having been on both sides," he wrote, "I can tell you: The peace is better. The bitterness isn't worth it."
Wow! With that reminder, I was able to sincerely say, "I forgive him, Father, and I bless him in Jesus' name. Forgive me for taking so long to get to this place."
Someone once said we can be right and still be wrong. It's still true that the hurtful words and the man who spoke them were wrong. But letting go of the bitterness that tried to take root in my heart was so right...definitely, the peace is so much better!
And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God...Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. From Ephesians 4:30-32
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