I (Steve) lived with my grandparents on their 50 acre farm during the last 2 ½ years of high school.  My grandfather and I had a special relationship. To me, he was John Wayne and Jimmy Stuart rolled up in one. Grandpa was a tough, hard as nails kind of man that also had it within him to watch the sunset in the evening while holding the hand of his bride of 50 years.  Although my parents left the decision up to me, it was my love for these two elderly people and the fact that my grandparents had voiced their desire to have me stay and live with them that led to me continuing to live with them while the rest of my family moved to Austin.

Life was not complicated. When I was not in school or playing sports, I’d work with my grandpa in the fields. One of my daily responsibilities was to get up, before sunrise, and make my way to the back of the property to feed the cows. Yes, getting out of that warm bed just to slosh through the wet and cold in those predawn moments was no picnic. But once I was out the door and making my way down the lane, the world would slowly come to life, soft sunlight and the sounds of birds seemed to be declaring that something glorious was taking place – a new day. The morning would continue with making my way to the hay barn, the cows waiting in anticipation. Opening the barn door, the smell of fresh hay filled the air. I’d pull out several square bales and toss them into the hay rack and the cows would begin their feeding. It was during this time that I developed a true love of nature and a deeper sense that only an amazing God could have engineered such a beautiful display of creation.

 The only real drawback was having to go to school in cold, mud soaked shoes.  Our family always seemed to struggle financially and owning two pairs of shoes was a luxury we could not afford. One particular Saturday afternoon in December during my senior year, my grandpa told me we were going to make a trip to Austin to pick up a few supplies. Every trip to Austin involved stopping at Academy Army Surplus.  Grandpa told me to go try on some rubber boots. I was shocked. Grandpa was the type of man who would tell me it was cheaper to grow leather than to buy it after I would show him blisters forming on my hands when digging postholes or hoeing the garden. So purchasing rubber boots to keep my feet dry seemed more like a want than a need. After trying on a few different sizes and settling on a pair, my Grandpa told me to put them back on the shelf then he grabbed a pair for himself. He told me to take his pair up to the counter and wait for him there while he looked for some work shoes for himself. After a few minutes, Grandpa joined me at the checkout counter carrying a box that contained his work shoes. After paying for his rubber boots and work shoes, we jumped in his old Ford Fairlane 500 and started back home. Grandpa drove home, which was a little unusual since I did most of the driving, but this whole trip was unusual. On the way home, Grandpa told me to reach in the back seat and grab the box – he wanted to show me his new work shoes. I opened the box and stared down at the pair of wool-lined rubber boots. I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure what I was looking at-these were strange looking work shoes. Finally Grandpa said, “How do you like your new rubbers?” That’s when it hit me. Grandpa wanted me to try on those cheap rubber boots (like the ones he bought for himself) just so he could determine my shoe size. I cannot describe what I felt for my grandfather at that moment-knowing his reluctance to spend a penny on anything non-essential  then to give me the far superior boots over himself.

 Looking back, it should not have been such a surprise. Both Grandma and Grandpa were always giving sacrificially. On two occasions, they took my mom, dad, and three kids into their home for a period of time to allow my dad to find a job and get back on his feet. My Grandpa was not a man of many words, but I learned so much about life from the way he lived it. He’d say “If you say you’re going to do something, then by golly, you’d better do it – no excuses. A man is only as good as his word.” And that was the way both of my grandparents lived their lives.

I wore those boots for the remainder of my days on the ranch. I would see them just inside the door next to the plain rubber boots Grandpa had bought for himself – always a reminder of why I loved this man so very much.

After my senior year, it was time for me to move to Austin and start my life with Melinda. My grandparents immediately put the farm up for sale knowing it would be a real struggle to run it by themselves at their age. It was a bitter sweet time in my life.  Excited to start a new life chapter with my new bride, yet sad to see the prior chapter closing and knowing there would be no going back. Oddly, once I left the farm in June of 1981, I never put those boots on again, yet they are still with me even today. On the bottoms of the soles still remains the red clay soil found in the back acres of my grandparents’ farm. Even though time has taken a toll on the boots, they have become a rich, powerful testimony of the love between a grandfather and his grandson and how a small act of random kindness can impact a life for a lifetime.

It’s interesting how only after seasoned years can a person look back and see life as it  really was and not how it was initially perceived. As a 16 year old kid, I thought my decision to stay with my grandparents was based, to a large extent, on the precept that my grandparents could use my help around the farm. The reality was it was me who needed the help. The life lessons my grandparents gave me way back then still help guide me along today. The interesting thing is they didn’t even know the powerful impact they were having on this young man. They were not trying to mold me into anything. They simply lived their lives with purpose in each day, putting priority in their faith in God and putting others before themselves.