Everyone thinks they know where their life is headed, including myself, but what I have come to learn is that I may think I know where I am headed but the Lord always know better than me. There is no way you could have told me 7 months ago that my life would require me to were these boots, pictured above, on a daily basis, and yes those are my feet!!!
I went from living in a nice suburb where everything was a short 10 min drive away, if traffic was in your favor, to living in a small community and starting on an adventure that I had never pictured as part of my future.
Let me start with these nice boots. These are my irrigation boots. I use them all summer long to go out into the pasture to change the irrigation water. Are you kidding me, did I just type that sentence? In the winter these are the boots I put on as I head outside in the mornings or evenings to help water and feed the donkeys. I also use them to get the goat out of the barn and feed the rabbit. I currently do not own a single sweat shirt that does not have hay in the front pocket, which is a little concerning at times because I know it has been washed. These boots have become more than just a tool I use to do stuff. They have meaning to me. First, every time I put them on, I think of my Grandpa Barnard "Sam" Inglet. He had a pair of boots just like these. I can still picture them today, just the same way I saw them as a little girl running into Grandma's house. They would be sitting right there where Grandpa had taken them off. I think of how my Grandma's house smelled, it was a mixture of bacon, hay and fresh clean air. There are moments I walk into my house now and it smells just like it and I feel myself missing them. This a picture of my grandparents home in Preston, Idaho. It started as a small cabin that they moved to property and added onto over the years.
My Grandfather was a quiet man. He was a man of very few words but he worked hard, even in his retirement years he still got up every morning and headed to the barn to help, while the cows were being milked. He loved to restore old tractors, doing paint by numbers and used the out house even though there was a perfectly good working toilet in the house. If you ask me, he was trying to be sneaky and go smoke so Grandma wouldn't catch him. He would make toy tractors for us out of a wooden spool, piece of soap and a rubber band. We would play with them for hours. My grandfather could play the harmonica and I loved to listen to him play. It was a rare occasion but it was always at night after the house was quiet and we had promised to go to bed. One time my sister, Diana and I had gone to stay with my Grandparents. We had spent the day playing with my cousins. Somehow we got the idea to build a hut in the grain field. We tromped down paths to different rooms and were having a great time until my uncle showed up and the look on his face was all I needed to know that we were in a lot of trouble. See, if the grain lays flat on the ground it can't be harvested and it becomes wasted. I am pretty sure that my cousin got the worst punishment but Diana and I were sent in house and there to talk to us was GRANDPA. Remember how I said he was a man of very few words, but he didn't need many words to get his point across. He explained to us why we were in trouble and sent us to bed. Grandpa didn't play the harmonica for us that night. As a grown woman I still remember everything about that day and the lesson I learned. Don't play in the grain field because you will not only be in trouble but you will disappoint your Grandpa.
I remember my grandpa put bacon grease on his pancakes instead of butter and used duck tape to hold his boots together. The thing I remember most about my Grandpa is his hands. He had strong hands with long fingers, which I have inherited. His hands were rough and worn from hard work and I can remember just staring at them as he would work on our little tractors. I remember one time I had spent the day sitting in the living room watching old westerners with my Grandpa and listening to him complain about how the wagon wheels on the coach were going backwards. He loved those old westerns. I was in college at the time and had come up to visit him. I was getting ready to leave and he stood up to give me hug. He gently reached out with his hand and touched my hair and all he said was, "your Grandma's hair was that color." He didn't need to say anymore, I knew he missed her terribly, she had only been gone a few months. I loved my Grandpa and in his memory named my youngest son after him, SAM!
My Grandma was tender and soft spoken and man could she cook. She loved to drink Mountain Dew and watch soap operas on TV. She would sit on her chair in the kitchen and watch them. Grandma always wore an apron unless she was headed into town. Her apron pocket was always full of exactly what you needed. I still have some her aprons and wear them with great fondness. I would always wake up to smell of bacon which we had for every breakfast and then the extra would be left on the table for us to snack on throughout the day. Grandma made the best pancakes, what I wouldn't give to taste them again. My grandma grew up very poor and sometimes went without food and you could see how those trials as a young girl shaped her as a woman. She never bought new clothes the ones from DI were just fine. She never threw anything away, if it could be used, she used it. She was a very giving woman. Our family never left their home without my grandma sending some kind of care package home with us and it usually always included a package of bacon. She canned and quilted for her family. I am lucky enough to have a quilt that was done by Grandma and several pillow cases and dish clothes that she embroidered. I cherish them and can feel the love that went into them. My Grandma's name was Anna Beota and she preferred to go by Beota because she did not like the name Anna. My youngest daughter is named Olivia Anna. I am sure I will have to answer to her for that when we meet again. Hopefully she will know it was done out of love and admiration. My Grandmother worked hard being the wife of a farmer and raising 5 kids. I think about her often when I go out to take care of the animals or put up food for my family from the garden. I doubt she knew at the time that the things she taught my mom would carry down through the generations. My Grandmother had a strong testimony of the gospel, it was unwavering no matter what the trial. I will always be thankful for her example.
So you see, when I put on my irrigation boots or find hay in my pockets it brings back a flood of memories that I cherish. I am thankful the Lord saw fit to move myself and my family in this direction and that daily I am given the opportunity to put those boots on my feet in the hopes of one day filling the big footprints that my Grandparents left behind for me to follow in.
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