Today, as I write this, I celebrate my grandfather’s birthday. He was born August 20th, 1928. He would have been 91 years old today. He passed away in 1995, but forever left a mark on my life. So many memories and stories to tell that will forever be a part of my life. He didn’t leave me with great riches of material things, but he left me rich. Rich in the things that matter. I’m forever grateful for his legacy that he left behind.
He was an old school cowboy. A giant in size and personality. Full of fun and laughter, and massive in strength. He was a gentle giant, not that the giant couldn’t be riled, but in nature he was gentle and kind. I remember him singing in church as a stood next to him. I remember him knocking a cow down with just a stick telling us boys to get off the fence because we looked like a bunch of black birds on a highline after she put us up that fence. I remember three weeks before his unexpected passing his desire to go to heaven. I remember the loss I felt when he arrived.
So many people today want the cotton candy lifestyle, but my grandfather was a steak and potatoes kind of life. He was real and those type of people are becoming harder and harder to find. He wasn’t perfect, and he would be the first to admit this, but he knew God. He knew the love of Jesus in a real way. He wasn’t pushy in his faith, but he also didn’t budge in his beliefs. He is the kind of person we need more of in a society of sugar and cream.
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