His name was Arnold Smith, his wife’s name was Ruby. Most people knew them as just Arnold & Ruby I had the honor of knowing them as gramps and grammy, they were my grandparents, my moms mother and father. They lived on a farm about 9 miles from where we used to live.. He was a potato farmer. He used to plant around 60 acres of potatoes and for many years milked around 15 - 20 cows. As you drove onto his farm the farmhouse he was born and still lived in was the first thing that would catch your attention. The other attention getter was a big Barn and on that barn was s sign someone had given him years ago-
"Million Dollar View"
My grandfather’s farm was situated on one side of a valley and as you looked across the valley it truly was a beautiful "million dollar" view. He was a quiet man, gentle, and soft spoken. He had one tractor for most of his years on the farm, he eventually got another to add to the fleet towards the end of his farming years. He had one car, never owned a pickup, had one truck that could haul 50 barrels of potatoes and the necessary machinery to take care of the land.
I got to go up to their house and spend many many memorable times on that farm. As a little child, around 7-8 years old, I remember laying in bed in the morning. I'd hear gramps get up around 4 to milk the cows, then come in for breakfast around 7, and then go back out around 8:30 to start farming the potatoes. There was one particular sound on that farm I will never forget. I can still hear it today just a plain as day, the sound of that old "H" tractor starting up first thing in the morning. It meant one thing, gramps was going out to work in the field and if I hurried I would get to go with him. So I’d grab a quick bite to eat knowing it took a few minutes to get the machinery hooked up, then I’d run out and ask if I could go with him. He was a grandfather so he had to say yes and he always did.
I can’t tell you how many hours I spent on that tractor with him. There wasn’t much room on those old tractor seats. I’m sure it would have been far more comfortable for him to go alone , but he would take me with him anyway.
Then one day, It happened. I remember it like it was yesterday. One spring day he was tilling up the ground getting ready to plant in a field just above the farmhouse. I was about 12 or 13 riding with him when he stopped the tractor, got off and said he had some work to do at the house and then in the barn. He then said to me words i’ll never forget. “you can finish tilling the field”. Alone on the tractor - WOW - I eventually stopped smiling but I’ll never forget him walking down that hill out of sight , it was just me and the tractor. I’m sure he probably watched me from somewhere. But it was a day I will never forget.
For the next 6 or 7 years until I went to college I spent hours working on that farm . One of the special times back then was harvest time. Potatoes were still picked for the most part by hand so the farm would have all kinds of annoying, lazy kids around “picking potatoes” to earn some cash for candy. Inevitably at some point the machinery would break down and there would be a great cheer from all the kids. I’m sure my grandfather was sometimes frustrated with his machinery but I never once saw him lose his temper.
My grandparents didn’t have an easy life. They had two babies die shortly after they were born. They never talked about it much but you could tell they knew what the word “heartbreak” meant.
That is the stuff I remember as a child and young adult. As I grew older I began to think about some of the other sounds I heard when I was on the farm. Every morning around 7:00 AM you could hear these noises coming up from the vents in that old house. Voices, hard to make out, but definitely voices. What were they doing? So I’d tip toe downstairs to see what was going on and there on there knees were my grandparents praying. They did this every morning.
My grandfather was a farmer, but farming wasn’t his life. When people remember my grandfather, when I remember him, it is never for the legacy he left as a farmer. He wasn't’ trying to leave that kind of legacy. When I remember my grandfather I remember the kind of person he was, not the kind of farmer he was. He attended a little Pentecostal church just down road from their home. He served as a deacon for 50 years. My grandmother played the organ there for 50 years even though she could’t read a note of music, she played all the hymns by ear. Gramps loved that church and went just about every time the doors were opened. I’m not sure if he ever taught a Sundays School class or ever preached a sermon but his home was a place where you would always find young people and young adults and they were always welcome.
I remember at his funeral one of the former pastors, a young man at the time, standing up and talking about my grandfather. He said that when he pastored there the church was little and didn’t have much money. On a few occasions the church could not afford to pay him. He then said that even though no one knew my grandfather would come and pay his salary out of his own pocket. My grandparents didn’t have much and that would have been a huge sacrifice to do that. I remember sitting there hearing this thinking to myself -wow.
You see my grandfather never taught me how to be humble - but he showed me the value of being humble.
He never taught me how to be generous - but he showed me the value of being generous.
He never taught me lessons on how to live life in the sight of God - but he showed me the value of living such a life.
Never taught me the importance of being with God’s people and going to church, prayer and Bible study - but he showed me the value of it by the way he lived.
My grandfather impacted hundreds of people simply by being a man of integrity on the farm, in the church, in his home . No matter where he was or who he was with he was the same person. Same was true of my grandmother. After he died - were going through his clothes and I was looking through the pockets of one of his jackets and found this letter that was written to him by one of the young people in his church who had grown up around him, picking potatoes on his farm - seeing him in the church - being in his home. She wrote this when she was 40 years old and gave it to my grandfather about a year before he died. He kept in in his jacket. This is what it said...
“Dear Arnold and Ruby, Many times I remember all the things that we have shared, such as ice cream & camp; singing your home, cutting seed and the time by brother AL and I spent in your barn rolling barrels, picking rocks, and of course all the church activities. It seems to me that you have always been. As a child, I watched you and listened and heard your testimonies. As a pre-teen, teen-ager and young adult, I was molded spiritually by your words, attitudes, actions, love and prayers. Sometimes we go through life never knowing of the positive influence we’ve been in another’s life. This message is a small attempt to make you aware of how I care for and appreciate you both. Several times when I’ve questioned, doubted, fallen, and been discouraged, your faces have come before me and been a real uplift and encouragement. It s my desire that I will be able in some small way to influence my would positively as you two have, I love you .
The reality for me as I look down memory lane at my childhood is this. My grandparents house is gone, the barn is torn down, and the Million Dollar View sign is gone.
But I now realize that the million dollar view was not what you saw as you looked OUT my grandparents window - It was what you saw when you looked IN my grandparents window.
The million dollar view was their lives!
May we give our kids and grandkids such a view. The memory of the righteous truly is blessed...
No comments:
Post a Comment