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.
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