When I was a young girl, my best friend Joni and I would go visit her grandparents who lived right down the street from me. Her Grammie (which she allowed me to call her also), made the meanest oatmeal cookies you ever tasted. We were in heaven each time the shoebox arrived to our dorm room with the crunchy crumbs of cookies. They were such endearing people, and since my grandmother lived rather far away, her grandparents were a grand substitute for a sweet influence in my life of Godly people with love for me. And their son, my friend’s dad, did all but adopt us after my dad passed away. He was the one that waited for me to get inside the door as he always ran the late carpool when we’d go out as teenagers. He was calm and loving and always a gentleman. He was a WWII veteran and an oilman, working for Exxon until he retired. For the past years, he had slipped away slowly with Alzheimer’s, and yesterday at 86 years old and whole again, he met Jesus face to face. I’m thanking God today for Mr. Well’s life and for his kindness, and for the sweet place in my life that he holds. Tomorrow, we’ll celebrate his life, and I’ll hug my sweet friend’s neck, so thankful and blessed for the dear man he was.