I LOVE boots!
As a girl, I always had a pair of snow boots and several pairs of cowboy boots, most of which were in terrible condition! With the exception of rodeos and riding competitions, I usually wore my boots to work.
During summertime and on some weekends, I’d wake up super early, get dressed in jeans and boots, and run downstairs to catch my dad before he left. We’d have breakfast at Roberson’s where I’d get to sit and listen to all the old farmers talk about the weather. Sometimes another kid my age would be there, but I was almost always the only girl!
Then we’d go out to check on the cattle, and then we’d get to work. I remember watching Sholly (the horse) give birth through binoculars one cold morning. Daddy said that if you get too close to a birthing animal it’ll scare them and cause problems with their labor. I wish someone had told my obstetrician that!
Those days with Daddy taught me how to fire a rifle, repair a barbed-wire fence, pull a splinter out of my hand, and avoid stepping in any mud that looks green (it’s cow poop!). I learned about the danger of falling into bad habits when Daddy taught me to never let my horse eat while I was riding or to run when we head back to the barn. And it was probably on Shotgun’s back in my old boots when I learned that I was stronger than I realized.
I was out with Daddy one day and we had about a hundred head of cattle that we needed to vaccinate, tag, and brand. Dad was working in the pen and my job was to round up all the cattle an get them in the pen. I couldn’t have been more than 9 or 10 years old at the time. And in a few different trips, I got all of them except one.
That nasty little steer refused to be herded. Every time I approached, he’d charge me! Evil little booger! He didn’t have horns, but I’d dutifully pull my horse away whenever he’d charge; even without horns, a steer can do some serious damage when they charge! So I sat there, trying to find a way to get this steer into the pen. Dad was already working on vaccinations, and I was out there in the Texas heat puzzled by this odd behavior.
Finally, I had had enough! I waited until his back was turned, spurred my horse forward, smacked his rear as hard as I could, and commanded with gritted teeth, “GO!” And he turned around and headed toward the pen.
So this winter, when you see me grinning from ear to ear in my boots, or when you see me squeal with delight about finding an awesome pair, you’ll know why boots excite me so. They remind me of home, of my Daddy, and of the fact that I am more powerful than I realize.
Being beautiful is about more than the right clothes and the right makeup. It’s about knowing in your heart that you are beautiful. I found my power in a pair of boots. Where will you find yours?