Papaw didn’t tolerate himself no fools

Next week marks the third year since my wife’s grandfather passed away, and so there’s always a bit of sadness around the house as my wife reflects upon his life and her loss.

I clearly did not know the man the way my wife did, but I knew from the beginning that he was a man to be respected.

She has always said he was more father than grandfather, offering a balance of lessons learned with the doting affection one should always give their children.

He taught her not to be a fool, nor to hang around with fools because then, really, what else will you become? (Proverbs 13:20)

He taught her to be strong, balanced with her grandmother’s admonitions of relying on the Lord. You can stand up with the Lord as your guide, because in your weakness, He is made all the greater. (2Cor. 12:9-10)

He told her that their family was nothing more than thieves, liars and murderers, and if that isn’t the truth for all of us and our families, then I don’t know what is. History and current affairs are enough to prove that. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:23)

For me, he was a man who worked hard all his life, like my father, and not just because he took to heart the need to provide for his family but because Papaw, as we called him, didn’t believe in idle hands. Those only lead to the servitude of the devil. Very true and with an amen.

And so, a man such as that — one who practices the wisdom that he preaches — will always be missed. Sadly, there aren’t enough men, husbands and fathers like that in the world anymore. Perhaps there never were.

I remember the first weekend we traveled to visit Heather’s Mamaw and Papaw at their farm in Kentucky. He must have thought I was quite the city boy, and I was, no doubt. He spent the next few days sizing me up for my wisdom (which I’m sure I lacked sorely then, but it would come) as well as my grit and mettle (also scheduled to blossom at a later date).

I remember breakfast that morning, and both Mamaw and Papaw had a bit of fun with me. While Mamaw asked how many eggs I wanted (three, I said), Papaw began his morning ritual of filling his coffee cup to the brim, only then to spill some out into his saucer. That would cool it faster, he said. I blinked once.

I blinked even harder when Mamaw brought me a plate of eggs that was also spilling over the edge. “Did I forget to tell you we have goose eggs?” she asked with a cackle.

But upon an offer to work the farm with Papaw later that day, I was glad to have overstuffed my gut with the equivalent of almost nine chicken eggs for breakfast. I’ve worked hard and long in my life, but never quite like what it takes to work a farm. I was dead tired before the day was done.

I helped him feed the cows in the field, then bounded off to pick up a neighbor’s bull, only to find out that I was going to be the one to coax the bull into the trailer. “Jump out that side door when he comes running in, OK?” Papaw said. Yes, I nodded, making sure the side door wasn’t locked. I wasn’t so sure at that point what Papaw thought of the man with his “baby.”

Tired and napping on the couch late that afternoon, Papaw roused me to help him deliver a calf from a first-time mother who couldn’t quite do the work herself. We pulled that calf out, not knowing whether it would survive the trauma. But common farm sense (which I didn’t understand at the time) said it was better to lose a calf than a cow.

In the end, both survived, and Papaw told me I’d “done good” and promised that a calf that size (about 80 lbs.) would never be eaten while he was alive, and that I know, it’s still running around Kentucky with the name Nick, siring other calves.

Papaw toughed out his last few years of life as strokes took away his strength and ability to work the farm. Often stuck inside, all he wanted was to be outside in the great big world that God had created, with the cows that would come when he called.

When he died, of course, we sighed a sigh of relief, because as believers, we knew God had finally restored him to health, and that there was nothing now that would ever stop him. But we also knew he’d be sorely missed.

And while I currently still live in the city, those days with Papaw on the farm have helped me understand better than ever that what God calls you to do, you’ve got to do with all your might, all your heart, all your soul. You’ve got to get up and go. You’ve got to say “Yes!” and grab the proverbial bull by the horns

Which I’m glad I didn’t literally have to do that day. As that snorting bull came bounding up after me into the trailer and I jumped out the side door, Papaw chuckled knowing I was trying so hard to prove myself to him. We laughed together, but only after I caught my breath and made sure I was safely on the outside and that bull was locked up on the inside.

Papaw didn’t tolerate himself no fools.