Herbert Lumas Redd Sr., my father’s namesake and my Grandaddy Redd. I will always remember summer days visiting him and my grandmother in small towns throughout central Mississippi. He had been born into a large and rather poor family, a broken home in which his mother had to raise him and that he never talked much about. He would grow to be a fiery country preacher, marrying my grandmother and raising three boys along the way. Home for them changed many times as he moved around pastoring tiny country churches; no matter where home was, however, my granddaddy was always tilling a garden, finding a lake or creek for us to swim in, and playing with his dog Cocoa whom he loved. As I got older, I began to learn the much broader scope of things that my grandfather had done. He made quite an arc in life—going from one of many siblings in a rural Mississippi family to seminary student to home missionary out on the Navajo reservation of New Mexico to army chaplaincy overseas to mission worker in Okinawa, Japan and back to small town preacher in the same area where he started. He passed away a number of years ago in the VA nursing home cared for until the end by my grandmother living nearby.