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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE George: A Life of Joy, Thunderstorms, and Unshakeable Faith   If the measure of a man is the wake of love, laughter, and quiet confidence he leaves behind, then my dad, George Sheets , didn’t just leave a wake—he left a whole river system. Even now, if I close my eyes, I can still hear his laugh echoing across our Kosciusko County fields. It started somewhere deep in his chest and rolled out like a wave—warm, unmistakable, and contagious. Dad didn’t simply

CHAPTER NINETEEN Saying Goodbye: A Mother’s Final Gift   There are moments in life that divide everything into before  and after . Early May of 2001 became one of those moments for our family—quietly, suddenly, and with the kind of heartbreak that forces you to cling to faith like a lifeline.   Mom had always seemed indestructible to me. Not in a loud or showy way, but in that steady, farm-wife, faith-rooted way that made you believe she could carry the world on her shoulders

His presence shaped my childhood in ways that still echo through my life today. He was steady, wise, endlessly patient, and the kind of man whose quiet example spoke louder than most people’s best speeches. To me, he wasn’t just a grandfather. He was a living blueprint of the kind of man I hoped to become.

Growing up on the farm meant that every day felt like an adventure waiting to happen—or a disaster waiting to be cleaned up. In our case, it was usually both.