Grandmother Beatty
My grandmother--Dad's mother--was a grace-filled, generous, gentle woman.
Born Ruth Otterbein Siffert, she was the youngest of 5 children. Her father--Papa as she called him--William Otterbein Siffert, was called to preach as a young man after serving as a soldier in the Civil War. In addition to homemaker and mother, her Mama--Harriet Corl--was Ott's helpmate in ministry. Ruth spoke lovingly of her Grandmother who lived in the family home through the first four years of Ruth's life. She tells of intimate times when her grandmother would read to her or wrap her warmed shawl around Ruth's tiny feet to warm them at bedtime.
Though Papa and Mama had a very disciplined home, Ruth felt loved. It was there that she learned to play the organ and piano for Sunday and Wednesday prayer services. It was there that she heard the faith stories of her parents which nurtured her loving obedience and abiding faith. It was in her home as well as the pews of the Ohio churches in which her evangelistic father preached that Ruth heard and saw the gospel lived out.
Grandmother Beatty was serious and quick-witted. She was sanguine in nature, yet she appreciated good humor and always framed her speech in a positive way. Beatty offspring have fun! Stories, practical jokes, and clean good humor abound. Her love of crossword puzzles, Solitaire, and Cribbage helped keep Grandmother's mind nimble, as did her study of the Bible. Ruth taught an adult Sunday School class at her church every week for decades.
Grandmother was the wife of Dwight Lowe Beatty and the mother of ten children. One child, Robert, contracted rabies while shooing a stray dog away from his younger brother (my father) Bill. Bobby died when he was six, but not before giving a remarkable gift to his parents. During his last day of consciousness, Bobby told his father that a man in a white robe had shown him a book and he had written his name in it. He also asked his mama, Grandmother Beatty, to sing "God Be With You Till We Meet Again." Remembrances of the powerful activity of God to gently prepare this young couple for the death of their beloved son . . . truly builds my faith.
Family life with the nine surviving children provided Dwight and Ruth with many joys, challenges, and sorrows all woven together. The national financial crisis of 1920 left the Beatty family in great difficulty. One child was born with a profound hearing loss. As the children became adults, loving marriages and the births of dozens of grandchildren were celebrated. One abusive marriage ended in divorce. The death of a son-in-law left a World War 2 widow with a young son. Grown children moved away with grandchildren that she could watch grow up only through pages-long letters, occasional pictures, and perhaps a summer visit to 200 Bellflower Avenue, NW, Canton Ohio.
Ruth's great love, Dwight, succumbed to emphysema after breathing the air of northern Ohio's coal-fueled industry and smoking cigarettes for his adult life. The man who had helped change diapers and had worked to establish a lucrative insurance company to support his family was now breathless and tired. The husband who spent late nights pitting cherries so that his wife could finish canning while their children slept was now exhausted at the least exertion. For years, Ruth had ironed all the family's clothes after the children were in bed, and Dwight had read her stories from The Saturday Evening Post. Now, he rationed his strength and breath to give his wife a great gift as he spoke, "Oh, Ruth, I love you so."
While sitting by his bed, helping administer oxygen to her exhausted husband, Grandmother stitched twelve twin-sized butter-yellow wedding ring quilts--one for each of the dozen granddaughters at that time. I study the scrappy rings of my well-loved quilt, even today, and wonder which of my aunts wore the bright red nautical print or the pastel floral. And I can imagine the hours that Grandmother spent sewing for the children and grandchildren who were blessed to live under her roof and care.
Grandmother's hands were small, but there was strength in her tapered slender fingers. I watched her play hymns on the piano in her home when my family came for summer visits from Texas. There was a mystery about her sweet, soft, squeaky voice as she sang the truths she had learned throughout her life. "Be not dismayed whate'er betide. God will take care of you. Beneath His wings of love abide. God will take care of you."
Grandmother Beatty had clear blue eyes that were quick to tears. With tongue in cheek, I call that trait the "curse of the Beatty Blue Eyes," passed down through the generations; but it's not a curse. It's more like a proud badge of citizenship in the Beatty family. Her tears expressed joy at being reunited with a dear family member. Her tears were quick to flow when a sorrow was shared. Even now, a box of tissue has a central place at family reunions, and is most likely to be used to mop tears brought on by gales of laughter.
Grandmother Beatty wore not one molecule of makeup--not even lipstick. Yet her countenance was radiant. The peace of Christ ruled in her. Her life was rich in gentle grace, generous love, and abiding faith. What a legacy she has left.
