Be inspired by a true story of what a 15-year-old learned from a 60-year-old! It’s about a 2.5 min read that’s well worth the time. At the end, tell me what you think.
It was a hot June Saturday in 1975. My dad had informed me the night before that I’d be helping Abe, our farm hand, pick rocks the next morning. To say I was not excited about the next days work would be an understatement.
Abe grew up as an Amish man and converted to the Mennonite faith early in life. He worked for our family for almost 40 years. Abe loved to work, always finished what he started and never worried about time. I, on the other hand just want to get started, finish as soon as possible and get ready for my baseball game later in the day. We met at the tool shed and threw two crowbars into the truck. I sure hoped we did not run into any rocks we would need the crowbars for because that could take . . . . f o r e v e r.
Rocks in Pennsylvania need to be picked after the fields had been plowed and before the ground is worked for planting. To pick rocks, two or three men walk behind a flat bed truck and when they find a rock they throw it on the flat bed. There are always plenty of rocks to be picked.
This morning it was just me, a 15 year old and Abe. The good news, I got to drive the big truck even though I was a year away from getting my PA drivers license. The bad news, Abe was a perfectionist and did not want to miss a rock. Within minutes of arriving at the field Abe had the crowbar out wedging a giant rock from the soil. I began to think I might miss my game and we might be here forever. And where did all these rocks come from anyway?
Two hours into our job we had made one pass through the field. The truck was half full and I was tired and thirsty. The temperature had soared to at least 85 and it felt like 100. Abe, who was 60 years old, seemed happy. He was singing, whistling, smiling and occasionally reminded me of missed rocks. I had walked by them hoping he would not notice, after all a few rocks left, who really cared.
After that first pass we took a short break. Abe found ways to encourage me, to catch his enthusiasm for picking rocks. Abe said, “A job was only worth doing if it was done right the first time. Rework was a waste of time and it was actually stealing from your employer.” For Abe work was simple: do the best you can do, and do it right the first time. I was feeling guilty knowing that I might not have met his expectations and I was determined to do better on the second pass.
Ten minutes into the second pass I lost my renewed enthusiasm and just wanted to be done. So I asked Abe the question that had been haunting me since we began. “Abe how much longer will we be picking rocks?” Abe looked at me with the most bewildered look and simply replied “We’ll be done when all the rocks are picked.”
Abe recently died at age 93. What a mentor he was in my life. Helping mold me and teaching me life lessons within the tasks of picking rocks, holding a hammer, building a cement block wall, picking cherries, butchering hogs, building a hot fire to cook the head meat, pouring concrete, gathering eggs, framing a wall, painting a fence, sweeping a barn floor, unloading hay, or doing small chores right.
Abe taught me how to live:
- Be committed to excellence
- With a work ethic to finish well
- Enjoy what I have
- Always give thanks to God, not just in prayer but in how I lived, for His blessings on my life.
Who has inspired you with a life lesson?
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