

Friday at 1am, my grandpa died. It feels weird to i.d. him as grandpa 'cause for 31 years, I've never called him that. I vividly recall when I officially renamed him. I was 4 years old, sitting on his lap in his favorite burgundy recliner when I told him I didn't want to call him just grandpa but I wanted him to have his
own special name. And what popped into my lil "word-nerd" head was "Tudie." And so for 3 decades--6 grandkids, 6 great grandkids, 3 sons, his wife, family, colleagues, friends & even his customers--endearingly & exclusively called him
Tudie.Graciously, in my life, I haven't seen a lot of death, so I guess in my naivete, one thing making my heart yearn is where is Tudie now?
When I was 4, I joined my Dad in what would become a 31-year mission to help Tudie personally know Jesus. As his grandkid, I got a way with a lot & knew it! I'd shamelessly ask him to pray with me, write him poems about God & send him tapes of me speaking about God.
Last night, not really having much to say, I told Raul, "The weird part is that the mission is over."
I know I gave it my best with Tudie. We ALL have the shameless-wonderful opportunity to speak & show God's love to people
everyday. I think when we do our best, there are no regrets...