OFFICIANT: The Reverend Darlene B. Young- Assistant Pastor- Grace Baptist Church of Fords, NJ HYMN SING/VISITATION 5-6 pm CALL TO WORSHIP- IN SILENT MEDITATION “BIST DU BEI MIR”- J.S. BACH Evelyn Simpson Curenton and Gregory Hopkins, Piano and Organ Duet OPENING PRAYER by The Reverend Bryant I’LL WALK WITH GOD Dame Gay Willis, Soprano NEW TESTAMENT LESSON- Matthew 5: 1-16 Mr. Andre Derrick Isaiah Evans, Great Grandson OLD TESTAMENT LESSON - A Psalm 91 Jeff Hairston-Smith MUSICAL TRIBUTE FROM THE SENIOR GRANDSON ORIGINAL COMPOSITION by Mr. Aaron Nigel Smith OBITUARY- READ IN SILENCE Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring- Curenton and Hopkins FIVE MINUTES OF REMINISCENCE Lady Patricia Simpson Newton, Niece, Sir Thomas Goddard, Extended Family, Scott, Michigan A TRIBUTE FROM YOUR SON NO NIGHT THERE Jeff Hairston-Smith EULOGY The Reverend Arthur Bryant CLOSING HYMN GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS CLOSING PRAYER The Reverend Darlene B. Young CLOSURE and RECESSIONAL THEY GOT THE WORD- Mississippi Mass Choir
A mere fifty-five years after the Emancipation Proclamation, she was born on Tuesday, the Thirtieth day of March, 1920, in Gretna Virginia, the seventh of ten children born to Hampton Hairston and Sabra Allen Hairston. In 1924, Hampton moved his family to McDowell County, West Virginia, in order to secure employment in the coal mines. Mine owners and other employers of that era were known to patheir workers by currency known as “scrip.” Scrip was worthless in terms of dollar exchange, but the only means by which a laborer could feed and clothe his family. A coal miner, in particular, worked under physically grueling demands. Odious conditions existed so lethal and hazardous, that job-related deaths commonly occurred resulting from mine explosions, Black-Lung disease, or premature death from stroke, heart attacks from the stress of being overworked. It was the Depression era. Family and Community was of the essence in order to survive. Sabra made her daughter’s dresses from sackcloth, the burlap-like material seen for packaged potatoes. Leather was kept in bulk for the purpose of making belts and to re-sole shoes. Christmas mornings for Beatrice were commonly an orange and a piece of candy. Poverty notwithstanding, there was never hunger in the Hairston household. Moreover, belief and faith in a Higher Power known as God, The Lord, Jesus the Christ, Trinity: The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost took precedence. Gratitude for what The Lord provided was exemplified by action, not words. Beatrice was witness to hearing a knock on the door of their house in the middle of the night by a nomad looking for a warm and dry place from the rain or snow. In those days, that nomad was called a “hobo.” Without hesitation, he’d be invited into the home. There, he would sit at the hearth by the fire while Sabra prepared a pan of spoon bread and hot coffee. He would eat, go to sleep on a pallet made for him by the fire, and in the morning, he would quietly leave. Bea loved her solitude. To wander alone in the Appalachian mountain woods where she would explore and discover for hours, was her favorite pastime. Being captivated by the aromas and sounds of nature was her elixir. Later in life, as she reminisced about her solitary jaunts into the mountains, Beatrice always noted that these were times when she felt most closely In Communion with The Presence Of God. The Anointing Of Creativity fell upon her during these sojourns of solitude. The Holy Spirit would deposit poetry, music composition, and inspiration for stunningly beautiful visual art in the forms of acrylic and watercolor paintings, charcoal drawings, and clay sculpture. It is to the world’s misfortune that all of her visual artwork has been lost. Two of her poems, however, are saved, and will soon be published in “This is My Story, This Is My Song- A Memoir, “ being written by her son, Jeffrey. This book will be used in therapeutic and academic environments as a source treatment and healing for patients of Physical and Psychological Trauma and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Beatrice grew weary of going to school in bare feet and sackcloth, and left formal education in the 8th grade. At age 16, she witnessed her beloved Papa collapse over the hearth from a massive stroke at age 57. It is said that her grief was so intense that she was not allowed to attend his funeral. At age 18, she was wooed by the fashionable, debonair, Ford-driving, girl-chasing “numbers man,” Harold Staton Smith. They married on August 18th of 1939. Harold, Jr., “The Quiet One,”was born that December, and will be 80 years-old on December 19th of this year. Gerald, “The Sweet and Troubled One” followed in June of 1941 and died in 1976. Patricia Ann followed in June of 1942 and died in her mother’s arms 3 months later. Clarence, “The Faithful One,” followed in August
of 1943. Anna Denise, “The Only Girl,” came in January of 1953 and died in 1994. Denise’s ashes are being buried with her mother. Jeffrey, “My Baby, the Crazy One,” came in 1956. Harold’s racketeer lifestyle made room for very comfortable living for his family. His beautiful, fashionable trophy wife was affectionately known by the community as Miss Bea. She was church-going, and had a huge heart for the less fortunate. She fed and clothed the poor, and sometimes, even paid for their burial. She had a kid’s club called Youth Town, where kids would hang out after school, dance to the juke box and enjoy her 1 pound hamburgers. Harold’s lifestyle eventually took ill affect on his health. He died 3 weeks after a diagnosis of Uremia at age 47, but not before his wife and his sister, Evelyn summoned a minister friend to his deathbed. There within a mere few minutes after repentance of sin and acceptance of Jesus Christ as his Personal Savior, Harold slipped into coma, and died 5 hours later on April 12th, 1962. A “shoutin’ funeral” followed a week later. What most “shouters” did NOT know was that Harold had no plans to die so young, and without having left provision for his family’s accustomed comfort. He left a 42 year-old widow with 3 college-age sons, a 9 year-old daughter, and a 5 year-old first grader. Within 6 months after Harold’s burial, life in West Virginia became but a memory. Bea sold what she could that hadn’t been stolen, gave the rest away, and moved her family to West 138th Street in Harlem. With an 8th grade education, she found her way into Continuing Education at Hunter College with focus upon child psychology based upon the principles set by Dr. Benjamin Spock. Yet another gift that had now been revealed: Her unique ability to teach and care for the developmentally disabled (then referred to as the “mentally retarded”). How does one encapsulate 57 years of history that transpired between 1962-2019? She buried 2 more of her 6 children. She raised Denise’s 3 children from infancy, who have given her 6 Great grandchildren. Beatrice now leaves 3 sons: Harold (Terry), Clarence (Gilda), and Jeffrey (Marvis), who gave her 4 more Grandchildren and 1 more Great grand. Philosophers, Prodigious Visual Artists and Architects, World-class Performing Artists, Corporate Leaders, Successful Entrepreneurs, Financial Advisors, and Award-winning Scholars in Universities both here, and abroad as far away as Korea. Bea’s motherly devotion was, one might say, to a fault. She honestly gave too much, to the extent that she usually sacrificed her own needs and pleasures to the extent of neglecting herself. Bea never seemed to get a handle on the meaning and practice of self-nurturing, because she was all-too consumed about the happiness and well-being of her offspring. God created us to BE creative, and to find Joy and Serve others via our Creative Gifts. We often hear use of the word LEGACY when one passes on. The essence of legacy far extends anything monetary. Consider CHRIST-LIKE LOVE. Consider LESSONS TAUGHT. Consider EXEMPLARY TESTIMONY OF GOD’S GRACE. Beatrice was bedridden for the last 8 years of her life following a fall. Grace: Impeccably cared for. Grace: The last words she heard were:
I Ain’t Gonna Study War No More! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beatrice_(given_name)#/media/File:Dante_Gabriel_Rossetti_-_Beata_Beatrix,_1864-1870.jpg