I’m writing my eulogy for Granpa, and the thing that makes me cry every time is remembering how proud he was of me.

I don’t know why it touches a nerve so deep – I think it must be really important to me that those I love, from Niki, to my parents, to my grandparents, be proud of me. I didn’t realize what a strong value this is for me.

But I see how this also plays into my relationship with God. I really, really want Him to be proud of me, too. And when I think He is, I feel unstoppable and fearless. But when I think He might not be, it crushes me. Oh, to replace that fear with the truth that He always thinks the world of me!