WRITE2SHINE
...Words to Encourage, Motivate & Inspire
'Them Big Old Boots'
'Them Big Old Boots'
(Dem Big Ole' Boots)
By Janice S Ramkissoon
A Short Story sharing the journey of one man. Showing 'love in action', the aspect of love that isn't always acknowledged or visible to the naked eye. Its a reminder that 'love is not a feeling but an act of your will'. In loving memory of W. A. Peddie.
"LOVE is NOT a FEELING - Its an ACT of your WILL"
(Don Francisco - The Live Concert)
“We were all given a task, words of wisdom for life he gave... And finally, we were all charged with the duty of taking care of grandma…”
My mind switched as the scene was described to me. I could picture the scene, grandma and all the grand-children and great grandchildren at the bedside, awaiting granddad’s recovery. Then I saw the ‘water boots’ (Wellies) on the verandah. The places those boots have been!
I remember one Saturday after cleaning the house (wiped, polished and shined the floor) the rain started to fall. Soon afterwards, granddad rode in on the donkey (Clint Eastwood style). After taking the hampers off and securing the donkey’s rope to the tree, he came straight in, sat on the chair on the verandah and slowly removed his boots emptying its entire contents on the floor. All that dust! I could cry but I didn’t – I just grumbled to myself about the trail of muddy footprints.
“Look at all that mud! I spent all afternoon cleaning that!”
I saw the boots at the end of the trail and fumed – “them big ole’ boots!” I was ready to throw them out in anger when I thought about where they have been.
For miles granddad would walk each morning, his feet protected from the cold & wet when it rains; from the hot rocks and asphalts, from the heat of the sun; from thorns and animal mess, with those boots. Then he would return after hours of labour, bringing with him the days supply of milk from the cows; food dug from the ground and fruits picked from the trees. We now had our daily bread and all I was worried about was the mess on the floor.
I remembered ‘field days’ at church when all the men would volunteer to maintain the church grounds: chopping down hanging branches from the trees, cutting the grass low, pulling up weeds etc., and those faithful boots would accompany granddad to carry out his share of labour.
Granddad regularly leaves his boots on the verandah while he takes a nap, after a hard days work. Sometimes we would take turns in wearing them around the yard or if it was our turn to bring the goats into the pen or take them out to graze. Generally we would wear them around the yard especially if it rains and we didn’t want the muck to get on our feet by wearing slippers or shoes. Those boots offered protection for our feet. However, no one would rush to accept the chore of cleaning those boots. What, those dirty boots, no way! They were always in a filthy state especially after the rain and were in need of a good wash both inside and out. Grandma had to throw them outside on several occasion and give us that look – you know, that look that says it all. The boots would be cleaned faster than you can think about whose turn it is to wash them. Once they were cleaned we would all be proud to put them on.
So, why am I so caught up on a pair of old boots?
Well, if granddad was in a pair of old shoes or trainers he wouldn’t have had as much protection and could have easily damaged his feet in a way that he might not have been able to travel places he has been to or do the things he has done for us as a family. I believe those boots were a blessing in disguise. They were the strongest of boots – I don’t think they were ever replaced. I can see them now hanging off the sides of the donkey as granddad rode home or away, as he worked in the fields. “Thank you Lord! Those boots sure have served us well”. Yet, I can remember many times of frustration when we cried ‘Take those dirty boots outside’ or we’d throw them out in anger, never once giving a thought to how they got in that state in the first place. Our first thought would be in line with, “What if someone came to visit? It wouldn’t look very nice.” Often, a conversation would start from “them big ole boots” as grandma often described them.
But now I thank God for the blessings which flowed from the gift of those boots and saw us through the years. Food from the field were sold; offering for church was obtained; we had school fees; weekly groceries; money to pay for our uniforms, books and lunch for school and even the very polish that kept the floor shine. We (children, grandchildren and great grandchildren) were given a great start in life from the helping hand of them big ole boots.
“We all surrounded the bed on which he laid…” I heard, as my focus returned to the unfolding of the story. I had missed out a great chunk of it, I’m sure, and may need to ask the question again that led to the telling of this story. Granddad worked hard in his lifetime, supporting his family and extended family but now he was laying there waiting to be called.
“… after giving us each a task to carry out, he said goodbye.”
His working day had come to an end and it was time to rest. Surrounded by his praying wife and family members he completed his last task and was taken away to eternal rest. It took those big old boots to make me realise the love and hard work that went into bringing us up and giving us such a good start in life. Thank God for them big ole' boots!
© November 2006 J.S. Ramkissoon
