Like most folks, I had two sets of grandparents. On dad's side, there was Mamaw and Papaw Clark. On mom's side, there was Mimi and Poppi Paul.

	Mamaw and Papaw lived on a small farm just east of town. I loved that farm. I especially liked the fresh strawberries and tomatoes they
grew in their garden. It was on their farm that we would often gather the whole Clark clan together for special occasions, especially around Christmas. Mamaw was a pillar in our church, First Assembly of God on South 18th Street. She was about as Pentecostal as they came. And big hearted.

Poppi was a preacher. In fact, he founded the church I grew up in.

Sometime later he switched sides and moved to the Church of God (Cleveland, TN). When he wasn't preaching, he was painting houses. Mimi was just Mimi. Sweet, loving, and always interested in the the grandkids, and the last to go. She held on to life until there wasn't much left of her to hold on to anything.

I knew Mamaw and Papaw better and have more memories of them than I do of Mimi and Poppi. The farm was just a more intriguing draw than paint buckets and ladders. But I loved all four as much as any one.

All my grandparents left a legacy. They lived human lives of faith, worked hard, made mistakes, and loved their families real good. The fact that most of their grandkids and great grandkids are Christians is a testament to their strong faith and genuine love. We all owe them a great deal.