I never really got to know my grandfathers. As a result, I tend to swoon over grandfatherly men (in the awwww sweet kind of way, not the grossly inappropriate age difference kind of way). When I was doing my undergrad, my pastor was one of these types (a young grandfather though). His wife was this incredibly sweet lady and he was this cranky man with a super soft side that he preferred most people didn't notice. I fell into the category of people who were allowed to shamelessly exploit that soft side and make him hug me a lot. Whenever I get to see him now that I've moved away from East Lansing, I get big hugs and enthusiastic requests for details on my life since he's last seen me. The last time I saw him, I was thrilled to hear that things in his life had done an almost 180 (he'd had a rough few years there!) and that he was practically floating he was so happy. It was awesome to see.
Dave is another person who is on my Christmas card list and doesn't ever hear from me outside of that unless we see each other in person somewhere. As I contemplated how to start my letter off to him, I was overcome with memories from times spent with that congregation, with Dave and his wife, with Dave's mother before she passed away. As grumpy as he could get when I lived there, he still had a beautiful heart that almost always shone through. He is a compassionate man, and I am so blessed to know him. He has brought amazing ministry to my life, and I doubt he has any idea this is the case.
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