Dedication

To my beloved grandchildren—each of you is a unique and cherished gift from God. You keep teaching me how to listen, how to love across generations, and how to grow as your Pops. This collection is for you.

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Introduction: Why GP252 Grandchildren Reflections?

“And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.”
—Luke 2:52

As grandparents, we don’t just look back—we lean forward. We remember where we’ve been, but more than that, we long to pass something down that will still matter when our names are only a memory. That’s the heart behind this collection of reflections, offering of love, nearness, and spiritual formation for those who come after us.

Luke 2:52 gives us a glimpse of Jesus in His youth. He wasn’t performing miracles or teaching crowds yet. He was simply growing—in wisdom, in stature, and in relational favor—with both God and people. That verse holds the pattern we hope for in our grandchildren’s lives. And, quietly, it invites us to ask the question, “What can I give that will help them grow like that?”

These reflections are not lectures. They are notes of love. Moments of wonder. Lessons learned the slow way. Sometimes funny, sometimes weighty, but always offered with the hope that something in these words will help our grandchildren grow strong, wise, and grounded in favor.

We cannot control how their lives will unfold. But we can help in tilling the soil. We can speak truth to them gently. We can be there when needed, listen well, and plant the kind of seeds that only time and God’s grace can grow. We can provide some of the threading in their lives as the tapestry is being woven.

What will our threading look like? Will it be colorful, resilient, woven in humility and hope? I trust that some of these reflections will support you in your walk with your grandchildren and perhaps with others who look to you for faith, wisdom, and love across generations.

That’s what GP252 is about. We’re not just grandparents, we’re gardeners. We’re not just telling stories, we’re sowing them. So may these pages reflect the heart of Luke 2:52. Not only that, but our grandchildren would grow in wisdom and stature,

but that we too, at any age, would grow alongside them, “in favor with God” and one another.

Table of Contents

Introduction: Why GP252 Grandchildren Reflections

1. Nathan: Standing Tall Beyond the Game
2. Justin: Running the Bases of Life
3. Lauren: Quiet Strength, Fierce Loyalty, and a Rising Voice
4. Bailey: A Grandfather’s Reflection
5. Tyler: Wired for Wonder: Seeing Tyler as He Is
6. Ryan: Living Up to His Name: A Reflection on Ryan
7. Isaac: The Entrepreneur’s Heart: Isaac’s Gift for Worship and Wisdom
8. Yael, Gideon and Ezra: Digital Natives and Ancient Paths: Learning with My Grandkids in a Wired World
9. Yael, Gideon, & Ezra: My Generation Alpha Grandchildren—They’re Observing and Listening
10. A Letter to My Grandchildren on Fathers Day, 2025

Nathan: Standing Tall Beyond the Game

Reflection on my grandson, Nathan Wright

By Pops

Nathan,

When I look at you at 31, I don’t just see a tall man who once dominated the basketball court at 6’5”. I see a boy I watched grow into himself while navigating the same storms all teenagers face like the pull of hormones, the uncertainty of identity, the pressures of school, and the challenge of finding your place in a diverse cultural setting. What could have been a stumbling block for some became for you a bridge. You learned not only to appreciate your own culture but also to respect and embrace the richness of others. That openness shaped your character as much as any sport or classroom ever did. I so appreciate the love you have shown your mother and support for Michael as the challenges of his strokes impacted the family’s rhythm, growth, and development.

Your athletic gifts were extraordinary. I’ll never forget the excitement of your scholarship offers or the pride in knowing you wore the jersey of the Harlem Globetrotters, even if only for a year. Yet, as remarkable as that was, it isn’t the part of you I most admire. What I cherish most as your grandfather is your courage and the way you don’t shy away from challenges. Your steady love for your siblings even when they don’t see eye to eye, and your tenacity to keep going no matter how tough things get has been demonstrated. Those are qualities that last far beyond a game.

I hope you recall when I texted you one morning and told you I saw you on a Netflix program where you were interviewing to be an influencer. I couldn’t believe it but after seeing you on that program, I knew you would be alright in life. So proud of how you have navigated the gift of life and continue to do so.

Now, as you step deeper into adulthood, the next stage of your growth lies in your spirituality. Let faith steady your courage and give depth to your strength. And as life presents its inevitable conflicts, I believe you will learn to see them not as interruptions but as opportunities—moments to bring healing, build stronger relationships, and model the reconciliation that is so rare in our world. In you, Nathan, I see a man who will not just stand tall in stature, but also in wisdom, faith, and love. I know that’s your desire.

I’m praying for a woman in your life that loves God, loves you, and who loves being a wife and mother! So proud of you! Let me know whatever I can be praying about for you.

So proud of you! Pops

Postscript:

I love your Houston apartment and dog when I see them on TikTok and you walking around.

Justin: Running the Bases of Life

Reflection on Justin Randle

By Pops

Justin,

I see in you a man who has carried determination, humor, and strength from boyhood into adulthood. I remember watching you navigate those teenage years—balancing the inner changes of growing up with the outer pressures of school, friendships, and identity. You came through those years in a diverse cultural setting that asked you not only to tolerate differences but to appreciate them. And you did. That ability to respect others while staying true to yourself is no small gift. You have been loyal to friendships you made with team members and your connections remain today. It’s a demonstration of the importance you see relationships are.

On the baseball field, your talent was unmistakable. All the way from tee-ball to little league to high school and college you excelled and made it work. To earn a nearfull-ride scholarship to Columbia College in Missouri was an achievement that spoke volumes about your discipline, focus, and work ethic. And you didn’t stop there—you graduated with a degree in business, proving that your determination extended far beyond the game.

Yet, Justin, what I treasure most as your grandfather is not simply what you accomplished, but who you became in the process. You are dependable, hardworking, funny, and steady even when life presses hard. Those are the qualities people remember long after the trophies and diplomas are put away.

I remember you calling me from college just to see how I was doing which I was always delighted with. It didn’t take me long to ask you, “Do you need anything—money?” You always said “no” but I loved saying, ”yes.” I also loved seeing your relationship with Lauren as you discussed her hitting and other conversations about sports. You have always been a protective brother. There‘s a softness there with you that’s more transparent than you think. I see it. Keep calling your dad as regularly as you can. Michael needs and loves to hear from you.

Now, as you step further into adulthood, I believe your growth will come in three powerful ways. First, by learning to acknowledge mistakes quickly and take responsibility—you will discover that humility never weakens a man, it enlarges him. Second, by deepening your spirituality—you will find that faith is the compass that makes sense of both success and failure, and it will guide you further than talent alone ever could. Third, by being mindful with your words—choosing to speak with both truth and kindness—you will expand your influence in ways you may not even imagine. You have an infectious smile and personality to lead. Step into it.

Justin, you already have the foundation of dependability and determination and grit. Now add faith, and the discipline of careful speech, and you will become not only a man others can rely on, but a man whose wisdom and grace will guide others for years to come. Always “be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger.” (James 1:19) “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” Colossians 4:6. This world needs it desperately and you were created to be that kind of a person and you are.

And here is my blessing, my charge, as your Pops:

“Pursue Jesus with all your heart and watch how your life becomes more a ‘run the bases of life of integrity and Grace.’ Play the game of life not just to win, but to lift others up. Live with joy rooted in faith, and may your character be the legacy that outlasts every scoreboard. I am proud of you, and I believe the best innings of your life are still ahead.”rlr

Proudly, I love you grandson!

Lauren: Quiet Strength, Fierce Loyalty, and a Rising Voice

by Pops

Lauren is my oldest granddaughter—23 years old and already a trailblazer in our family. She’ll soon be the first of our ten grandchildren to earn a master’s degree, just six months away. And she didn’t just get through her undergraduate program—she did it in 3.5 years, right in the thick

of the post-COVID chaos. That alone speaks volumes about her discipline, focus, and strength. But what really marks Lauren isn’t just what she’s achieved—it’s who she is.

She’s always carried herself with a certain quiet—measured, reserved. Lauren didn’t talk much growing up, even when there was something on her mind. You might miss it if you weren’t paying attention. But even in her silence, there was something deep at work—thoughtfulness, perception, and emotion. She wasn’t loud, but she was present.

Watchful. Loyal. Especially to the sisters-twin, friends since childhood. Lauren’s bond with them has remained strong through

every chapter.

Something shifted around her junior year in high school. I began to notice it—she started talking to me more. Not with a flood of words, but with intention. And I was delighted. Her words were few, but they were hers. College brought more independence—driving herself back and forth to Bakersfield, making decisions, building her own rhythms. She was growing into herself, and I got a front-row seat to it.

Lauren’s athleticism has always been evident—years of softball, a full-ride scholarship, competition that never rattled her. From the outside, she could seem unflappable. Stoic, even. But underneath, if you really knew her, you’d see that she feels things deeply. She carries both strength and tenderness—rarely advertised, but deeply rooted.

Lauren makes careful and well thought out decisions—a sign of early on maturity.

And then there’s her appearance. Lauren is stunning. People notice it right away—the family, cousins, friends, even strangers. But what’s even more beautiful is the way that outer radiance is beginning to reflect a deeper, inward formation. She’s not just growing into a career—she’s growing into a woman of depth, character, and grace. The threshold for her future husband will be high. And, her children, they’ll be blessed with a great mom—a nurturing, attentive, and a refreshingly lovely mom.

We haven’t talked as much about the spiritual side of Lauren, but I see it. There’s something forming between her and God. A growing relationship. It may not be loud or

front-and-center, but it’s there. I’m hopeful—and expectant—for more conversations in the days ahead.

Lauren’s voice is rising—not just in volume, but in clarity. And I’m here for it. Watching, cheering, and thanking God for the woman she’s becoming. Liessa and I love you Lauren—Blessed to call you our granddaughter!

—Pops

Bailey: A Grandfather’s Reflection

By Pops

May 5, 2025

Bailey, our granddaughter, is a radiant soul—bright, creative, and beautifully expressive. From a young age, her musical talent stood out. She plays lead guitar with ease, sings with natural grace, and can pick up other instruments almost instinctively. She’s also been performing in musicals since childhood, once starring in Annie at just six years old.

But Bailey’s gifts go far beyond the stage. She has a remarkable gift for friendship. Her warmth and authenticity draw people in, and her friendships are diverse and deep, often spanning grades above her—a testament to her confidence and maturity.

Like her parents, Rachel and Erik, Bailey has a heart for people who carry emotional burdens. She’s wired to care, to listen, to be present. But her compassion is matched by wisdom. She’s emotionally intelligent, with strong boundaries. She knows when to walk with someone—and when to walk away for the sake of her own well-being. That balance is rare at any age. It’s no surprise she’s on track to graduate in May 2026 with a degree in social work—a calling that fits her perfectly.

As the oldest of four siblings, Bailey leads with what I’d call “loving authority.” She adores her younger brothers, and they love her—but they also know who’s in charge. Her humor is magnetic, and she’s always on the lookout for the next funny moment—often at my expense. I admit, I love being the target. Her laughter is one of my greatest joys.

She’s fashionable and confident, with a creative flair that adds personality to everything she wears. But her identity isn’t tied to trends. What sets Bailey apart is her deep love for God, her devotion to family, and her close relationship with her mom. She’s also expressed, more than once, how thankful she is to have both sets of grandparents actively involved in her life—something she knows many of her peers don’t experience. That gratitude has never gone unnoticed.

Looking ahead, Bailey dreams of a life filled with meaning and family. She hopes for a godly husband and lots of children. And while she shines in so many areas, she’s still working on one challenge—keeping her bedroom clean. But if that’s her biggest struggle, I’d say she’s doing just fine.

Even in college, Bailey stays connected. Her thoughtful check-ins remind us of the bond we share, and we treasure every message and call. One of my fondest memories is driving her to high school her junior year. Those morning rides were full of thoughtful talks—about culture, family, politics—you name it. We didn’t always agree, but we always connected. Four years later, I still miss those drives.

A Grandfather’s Tribute

Bailey, your laughter is the melody in my favorite memories; your wisdom, the echo of our conversations, layered with grace and honesty. Your presence is a song of purpose—pure, steady, and true. With every step you take, know that your grandparents walk beside you, holding you close in heart and prayer.

Tyler: Wired for Wonder — Seeing Tyler as He Is

By Pops

Some people live loud, drawing attention without trying. Others live with a quiet depth that doesn’t need applause to be significant. Tyler is the latter.

He is wired for wonder. You see it in the way he plays paddleball with focus, leads a Bible study without fanfare, and climbs mountains—not just physically, but relationally and spiritually. Tyler’s adventurous spirit reflects his father’s legacy, but he makes it his own with every trail he explores and every unexpected twist he welcomes. You’ll rarely hear about it in advance—he’s more likely to tell you the story after it’s already lived. That’s part of his mystery and his trustworthiness.

What’s most striking about Tyler, however, is not his thirst for exploration but his tenderness. If I had to wrap him up in a single fruit of the Spirit, it would be kindness. Not the kind that seeks attention, but the kind Paul describes in Galatians 5:22–23—Spirit-born, not self-manufactured. The Greek word *chrēstotēs* implies a goodness that is both gentle and strong, active and patient. Tyler lives this out, especially in how he treats animals and people alike—not from sentimentality, but from a deep place of recognition that every living thing deserves care.

Kindness, biblically, is not weakness. It’s a posture of the heart that sees people as image bearers, not projects. It’s courage wrapped in grace. Tyler lives that. He’s loyal to his family and lifelong friends—having journeyed with the same group from high school through college. His care is evident in how he interacts with his siblings and parents. He’s guarded with his privacy and intentional with his words. You may not know what he’s thinking until he’s ready to share, and you may not get to know everything he’s doing until it’s already done. That’s not secrecy—it’s stewardship of his inner life.

He loves music—all types—and often shares his favorites with me. Those quiet exchanges between Pops and grandson are more than generational bonding. They are glimpses into a thoughtful soul who’s always exploring, always listening, always learning. Tyler doesn’t go halfway—not in adventure, not in conviction, not in love.

He may be perplexing to some. But that’s only if you try to label what God has written as poetry. He is, quite simply, comfortable in the discovery of who he is—and he walks that path with integrity, kindness, and a quiet joy that makes the rest of us want to walk with him.

“Tyler doesn’t just move through life—he notices it, blesses it, and somehow makes room for others in the wonder he carries.” — Pops

Ryan: Living Up to His Name

By Pops

The name Ryan means “little king” or “illustrious,” and I’ve often thought—whoever came up with that name must’ve had a glimpse into our grandson’s wiring. From early on, Ryan radiated confidence and joy. He was a risk taker who could make you hold your breath just watching him. Always up for the most daring thing—often far beyond what seemed

age-appropriate—Ryan was fearless in ways that made us all a little nervous, and incredibly proud.

There’s a regal-ness to Ryan, but not the kind that demands attention. He doesn’t flaunt who he is or what he can do. And yet, like the character Will Hunting, he sees right through pretense. He has this quiet brilliance—especially in mathematics—that could outshine many, but he chooses not to wield it for applause. Instead, what shines most is his moral clarity. Ryan doesn’t like seeing the weak exploited by those who think status or privilege makes them superior. And when he stands up for what’s right, he does so with both wit and heart.

He’s a strong athlete—starting in gymnastics, moving through water polo and wrestling. But what has delighted me most is watching him grow through each new season, becoming more grounded, balanced, and wise. There’s a loyalty in Ryan—one that finds comfort in family and draws the family close in return. It’s as though something has been knit into him, a deep understanding that the sum is never greater when the parts are working apart. Some might mistake that for a weakness. I see it as strength—the kind that creates safety and rootedness for those around him.

And just for the record—while I must confess that Ryan’s mathematical wizardry clearly comes from his patriarchal lineage, I claim the rest (the real good stuff) from the matriarchal side!

Ryan is living into his name—not by being famous in the world’s eyes, but by quietly illustrating a life of substance. Of learning, balancing, loving, and staying grounded in what matters most.

We love you, RyRy.

© 2025 Ron Randle. All rights reserved.

Isaac: The Entrepreneur’s Heart and a Gift for Worship and Wisdom

—Pops

Isaac is sixteen years old and the youngest of four children. He joined our family at two and a half years old and was officially adopted at four. From the beginning, he’s been an undeniable source of joy—easy to love, easy to celebrate, and impossible to ignore when he flashes that smile and dry sense of humor.

Isaac leads by example. He has a servant’s heart, a love for worship, and a deep sense of God’s presence that seems to shape how he treats people, especially those who are often overlooked. He’s the kind of young man who listens well, responds thoughtfully, and brings peace into the room without having to say much. His even temperament is a gift that doesn’t always show up in loud ways—but it’s unmistakably powerful.

There’s also a sharp business mind growing in him. Isaac sees opportunity everywhere. Whether it’s buying and reselling, delivering newspapers, or his first business venture of cleaning shoes—he brings entrepreneurial instinct into everything he touches. He’s a natural negotiator. Wise beyond his years, with the kind of discernment that can’t be taught—only nurtured.

He’s athletic, funny, and deeply loyal to those he loves. One of his endearing habits is waiting until the very last second before getting out of the car to say something important. It’s as if he knows that some of life’s most meaningful insights don’t need to be rushed—they just need to be heard.

What strikes me most about Isaac is that he’s walking into manhood with integrity, compassion, and spiritual hunger. He’s not loud about it. He doesn’t seek applause. But his life speaks—and those of us who listen are better because of it.

Sussa and I love you, Isaac. You make our hearts glad. We see God’s grace in the way you serve, love, and grow.

“The quiet leaders are often the ones God uses most. Keep living loud in humility, Isaac.” — Pops

Yael, Gideon, & Ezra Reflection                                                         Digital Natives and Ancient Paths: Learning with My Grandkids in a Wired World

By Pops

Ezra, our three-year-old grandson, recently has been teaching me when I’m swiping incorrectly between screens. He didn’t use many words—just those little fingers, confidently sliding across the tablet like he was born knowing how. And maybe, in a sense, he was. It’s part of Grandparenting humiliation. I guess that has to be accepted. But, it’s astonishing!

These Generation Alpha grandkids—Yael (9), Gideon (5), and little Ezra—aren’t just comfortable with digital technology. They’re fluent in it. Natural. Unbothered. Enthralled. Unhindered. Unafraid.

I, on the other hand, fumble. I have what I call a “cognitive deficiency and dissonance,” when it comes to all things tech. Show me once, I forget. Show me twice, I still might need to write it down. Meanwhile, Ezra’s already showing me how to do it. Go figure.

But lately, I’ve found myself sitting with more than just the wonder of it all. I’m also sitting with the weight of it. The questions. The concerns. A weight laced with wonder. Because here’s what I’ve noticed—and maybe you have too if you’re a parent, grandparent or extended family: there’s something about digital technology that doesn’t just entertain. It grabs. It pulls. It mesmerizes. And sometimes, it replaces us. And, sometimes I give it permission.

There are moments when I speak and they don’t hear. I call their names, but their eyes don’t shift. It’s not rebellion—it’s absorption. Their minds are elsewhere, and the elsewhere is often glowing in their little hands.

So I’ve started asking myself: What is this doing to their little minds as they learn to live in communion with parents, siblings, friends, classmates? Are they losing the ability to linger in eye contact? To listen past the surface? To tolerate boredom, or wrestle with conflict, or wait for a full answer? How about the anxiety they might be feeling, even at a young age, with so many things to choose from on the Internet?

Technology isn’t evil. In fact, it’s brilliant in many ways. It connects families across oceans. It can foster creativity, curiosity, and even compassion. But even good things, when unexamined, can become masters instead of servants. That’s why, as a grandparent, I don’t want to just complain about “kids these days.” I want to understand the world they’re growing up in—and lovingly, gently, offer them something deeper.

When I see them buried in a screen, I’m learning not to just yank it away. I’m learning from David, Arielle, and Liessa. Here’s what they try to do. They try to invite them into something human—something shared. A story. A board game. A question that needs more than a yes or no. Or maybe just sitting on the couch together without any agenda but being

present. Or, something as simple as having certain times they are allowed to watch—limiting the time minus open access.

Because if their digital world is fast, captivating, and constant, then maybe our presence—unhurried, calm, and real—is the needed contrast. They need to know how to navigate their world, yes. But more than that, they need to know who they are and how loved they are—without a battery, a signal, or a Wi-Fi connection. Only our quality time with them, minus technology, can teach them how to be authentically human.

We won’t always get it right. I sure don’t. But I believe this: There’s still power in a slow conversation, a quiet meal, a long walk, a bedtime story. There’s power in being seen.

And while Ezra may keep showing me how to use my phone, maybe I can show him how to use his life—with intention, with compassion, and with the kind of love that can’t be downloaded.

—Pops

Yael, Gideon, & Ezra Reflection

My Generation Alpha Grandchildren

They Are Observing and Listening

By Pops

Though we live on the West Coast now, Liessa and I have made it our goal to spend as much time this year as we can with our grandchildren, our daughter-in-law, and our son in Maplewood, NJ—a 25 minute train ride outside NYC. We’ve already been with them for two months this year—five visits—and it’s only mid-May. That kind of time together is not something we take for granted.

We’re very aware that many grandparents don’t have that kind of access, or flexibility, or physical stamina. We are privileged. That word ”privileged” isn’t one we use lightly. Privilege doesn’t mean we’re better—it just means we’re entrusted. And the older I get, the more that verse echoes back to me: “To whom much is given, much is required.”

Being with our grandkids—Yael (9), Gideon (5), and Ezra (3)—is a blast. They are each bright, passionate, strong-willed, and uniquely designed. And yes, each one has a bit of “alpha” energy in them. Dinnertime has become a small classroom on human nature. From sibling rivalries over who sits where, to “why is he getting more than me—which isn’t fair,” to the protests over bedtime—there’s always something simmering. You are rarely disappointed.

But here’s what humbles us: they’re watching. Even when we are just passing the hot dogs or fixing a toy, they’re listening to our tone, picking up on our mood, studying how we handle frustration, fairness, or conflict. They/ are observing not just what we say, but what we mean.

That realization is both weighty as well as treasured. It makes us pause and ask, ”What are we contributing to their formation? Are we only affirming the loudest voice, or are we learning to see the quieter need? Are we modeling kindness, or control? Patience, or pride?” It’s not about scripting their futures. God alone holds their design. But perhaps what it means for us is to humbly support the scaffolding—the slow, faithful forming of character.

Less can be more: fewer lectures, more listening. Fewer corrections, more curiosity. Less concern over “right now” behavior, and more prayer over long-term fruit.

Liessa and I talk often about each of their personalities—their leanings, their quirks, their sensitivities. We don’t pretend to know their futures, but we try to keep our eyes open to glimpse how God may have uniquely wired each one. And we try to speak into that with care, not control. I believe this is one of the quiet ways God uses grandparents—not as architects of the future, but as gardeners. We till a bit, water with care, and then trust God to bring the growth.

So we keeping each other accountable (more Liessa keeping me accountable) in learning to ask ourselves: How is our language shaping them?                                                                                                                                                                                                   Is our presence helping or hindering the grace of God in their young hearts?                                                                                                                                                                       Do they feel more loved, more seen, more secure after time with us?

These are tender questions. We don’t always love the answers. But grace gives us room to grow too. They’re observing and listening. And by God’s mercy, may they hear in us something that sounds like love, and looks like Jesus.

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A Letter to My Grandchildren: Finding the Truth That Brings Life

By Pops

Sent on Father’s Day-June, 2025

Dear Incredibly Beloved Grandchildren,

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to pass on to you—not things, but what really matters. And as I watch you grow, as I see how hard you’re trying to figure out what’s real in a noisy, messy world, I want to share something from my heart.

I see you. I see how you search for answers in so many places—on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, and all the other spaces where people your age go looking for truth, for solutions, for something solid to stand on. I see how the world offers you idea after idea, but not always much peace—through music, The Breakfast Club with Charlamagne, fashion.

What you might not know is that I’ve been there too. Sure, I didn’t have the internet. But I grew up in a world that was full of division, confusion, and hurt. The racial divides of my time shaped me. I wanted to make things right. I thought if I could help people come together across those lines—if we could just get racial reconciliation right—‘I and we’ would finally find peace.

But here’s what I’ve come to see: It’s not movements or strategies that bring life. It is, Truth we all are searching for. And that truth is a person. It’s Jesus.

What Changed My Thinking

For a long time, I chased the idea of fixing what was broken between people. And that’s a good thing to want. But over time, God showed me that I was looking for resolution in the wrong place. There are all kinds of things that are broken in life—relationships, homelessness, addiction, church.

No program, no plan, no human effort can fix what’s most broken. Because what’s broken isn’t just out there—it’s in us. Jesus didn’t just show me a better way to act. He gave me a better way to think. A way that brought life into my own chaos and confusion.

He’s not a slogan or a side. He is the truth that holds when everything else gets shaky. And He offers that to all of us—you included.

What I Hope for You

I’m not offering you platitudes or to be preachy. I’m here to tell you what I’ve lived: The search for truth is worth it. But don’t stop at what’s popular or easy. Stay open to what’s real.

Life isn’t meaningless. It’s full of meaning—because Jesus gives it meaning. He brings clarity into the noise. He gives purpose when everything else feels scattered.

I hope you’ll:

• Keep asking honest questions.
• Keep looking for what’s true—not just what sounds good, in the moment.
• You pursue a life that reflects the clarity and purpose Jesus offers.

And I hope you’ll remember that you have to choose. You have to walk that path. No one can do it for you.

The Road Ahead

I’m proud of you. I see your compassion, your hunger for what’s right, your desire to do right. And I pray that in the middle of all the testosterone of life, all the energy and emotion and challenge of figuring it out, you’ll come out on the other side with more clarity, more purpose, more of the life that only Jesus can give.

He’s not just an idea. He’s the truth that brings life. And He’s waiting for you to walk with Him.

With all my love, Pops