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Happy Birthday!

Pop! My dad had been called Reverend Hall, Dr. Hall, Father Hall, and occasionally “DAD!” but not Pop, until my Mom chose to go by Cookie. Pop goes with Cookie.

Want to know why my mom is called Cookie? I have a picture that I will eventually share of my dad, after my mom bought Rachel her first Mall Cookie Shop cookie. Rachel is sitting in Pop’s lap and looking really smug. Pop is also looking smug. They did it behind my back. My mom and my dad were right. Rachel deserved a huge cookie and icing sandwich thing, with no guilt. She deserved to be just smugly satisfied that they’d accomplished this without my knowing. That is what grandparents are supposed to do. So, Cookie became Cookie after that. Rachel knew who had just given her the best thing she’d ever had. Thank you, Pop and Cookie.

Here is what Pop knows about my younger daughter, Emily. Pop told me, when Em was about 3, that I needed to recognize she is truly an athlete. Em is smart. And she is brave. She is really, really, good at NOT running away from a soccer ball or volleyball coming full force at her head. (I have finally stopped wincing each time this happens while she is playing.) Emily is really, really good at not running away from a challenge. My dad, who is also an athlete, knew this. When Em was going through the very difficult toddler stage, Pop told me that I should make each hard thing a game she could win. He understood her. Thank you, Pop.

Pop also tried to understand me. I have told this story when teaching Christian Ethics 101. My dad told me, after having sat with me asking question after question for six months in his Confirmation Class, that if I did not understand everything, I should promise God that I would keep asking God good questions. Pop did not tell me that I would embarrass him if I did not conform in front of the congregation he was serving. He told me that I should see confirmation as a process. I think anyone teaching confirmation should take a hint from Pop.

Cookie and Pop taught me to understand Christians who do not always understand one another. My mother is so strong and smart she could have been the Governor of Texas. My father is so wise and kind he could have been a United Methodist Bishop.   I have just embarrassed them. But so be it. It is true. Neither one of them spent their time running for bishop or for governor. I am grateful. If they had been running for either, my girls and their cousins would not have seen them half as much. I am grateful Pop loved the people in his churches so much that he forgot to find time to run for bishop. He is the pastor I think of first when I tell my students that I want leaders whose gifts outstrip their ambition.

Pop hates to fly, but he is going to get on an airplane, again, to come see us this Thanksgiving. When I went off far away to college so long ago, I think we all knew it was going to be hard for me ever to move back to Texas. They have been patient with my wayward ways, and Pop evidently beams a little bit when he tells people back home I teach at Duke. He is a basketball fan. And he loves me.

Happy Birthday, our dear Pop, from all 3 of the Green Street Girls! We love you so much the 8 falls over! (That is our cute way of saying infinitely : )

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