$400 and a Tool Box

I have to admit, I didn't always listen when my Grandfather would tell his stories.  I was always crazy busy preparing dinner, tending to the kids, working, cleaning house or fussing over non-important things such as having Grandpa put on a shirt that didn't have a button missing or hot chocolate dribbled down the front.  It wasn't till he got pretty sick and was hospitalized that I realized, that last story I heard may be the last time I heard his loving voice talking to me.  From that point forward, each time I visited, I sat down on his couch and intently listened to every story he had to tell.  I didn't want to forget a word of what he said.  The only regret . . . I didn't tape record his stories.  What a treasure that would be today.

My favorite of all his stories is how he supported his family and began his business many years ago.   He never told this story as a way to boast of his doings, but simply to let each of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren know that God could take a simple man with a willing heart and provide blessings in abundance.

I remember the first time I heard Grandpa tell this story to my family of five.  His words were said between bites of fried chicken, cornbread, fresh veggies from our little garden and a tall glass if cold milk.  He made sure to throw in some "mmmmmmm . . . . mmmmmm's" to let me know how much he appreciated this home-cooked meal.  I know he enjoyed these meals he spent with us, as Grandma had passed away several years before and his dinner meal usually consisted of cornbread, milk, a piece of onion and memories of his beautiful bride.

Grandpa always started his story out with praising God for giving him a strong back, even though he only had an 8th grade education.  He explained how he worked the cotton fields until the weevils ate up the fields and left his family to starve.  He moved his little family into town for work, where he dug ditches, barely making enough to keep food on the table. At this junction in the story he would always praise Grandma for her ability to make something out of nothing. I think he even said one time that she could take a rock and cook it just right to make a delicious meal fit for a king.  After complimenting Grandma, he would always credit the Lord for providing for his family, no matter how big or small, it was always enough.

While digging ditches one day, a man by the name of Homer stopped by and offered him a job and he accepted.  He worked for Homer for several years, but felt compelled to start his own business venture.  He prayed about the decision, then presented the idea to Grandma.  Of course Grandma supported Grandpa in his decision and they prayed together about when the right time would be to make this change.  They both knew this was a true leap of faith, because all Grandpa had to begin his business with was $400, a tool box, a breaker, and a willingness to work hard.

July 1, 1969, Conward's Heating and Cooling became a business located in downtown Harrison, Arkansas.  He drove a rickety, old truck that ran on a prayer.  He worked from sun-up to sun-down, tried to always do right by his customers, never took flack from anyone, and built a desired reputation for his family.  My Grandmother stood right next to him and neither complained of the long hours, for they knew they were blessed.  They treated their customers right, their employees like family and always gave thanks to the Lord.

My Grandfather always seemed surprised when he ended his story.  He explained that when he and my Grandmother retired, they were making over $100,000 a year.  They tucked money away for retirement and for their family.  He never understood how a man with an 8th grade education could be so blessed by God.  He went on to explain that the money was used to care for my Grandmother when she became ill.  He praised God that he had allowed provisions to care for my Grandmother.

Though my Grandfather worked hard for so many years and blessed many others along the way, he never felt he could give enough thanks or provide enough for those he loved.

Grandpa, you were enough.  You were more than enough.  You were a man of honor and we are proud to have known you as our Grandpa. You taught us that caring for your family isn't simply going to work each day, but it's Sunday dinners around the table and trying to always do the right thing. 

I thank God for your $400 and a tool box.  Thank you for sharing your story with me Grandpa, thank you.