Proof The Bible Is True

“Hand me that feed bag,” Grandpa hollered from the cattle trough.

 

I reached into the bed of our pickup and lifted out the heavy burlap bag. There was no mistaking Pa’s voice. Even at his age, 75, it was commanding.

 

Any other Friday afternoon, I would have been in school. But the flu was going around real bad that week, and in our small town, it knocked out enough people to give us a day off. A day off for most kids, anyway.

 

I might have been hanging out watching TV or going fishing with my friends. But not with my grandpa around. Pa lived close by and came to our farm nearly every day to help take care of our cattle. Today he had me and my little sister, Jordan, as extra farmhands, so he was putting us to work too. It was better than seventh-grade math class, I guess.

 

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