In 1973 Glen & Joy Riddle moved to Dallas, Texas so that Glen could attend Dallas Theological Seminary (DTS) and earn his Master of Theology degree. Six years later, when they moved to Austin to pursue further studies, Glen took with him more than a diploma; he took a legacy of building friends, ministry, business, and family that few of his peers could ever accomplish. I was blessed to have a ringside seat for it all.

It was obvious when I first met Glen at DTS that he was an active friend-­maker. He had me at “Howdy,” his trademark greeting. Smiling, whistling, singing songs and cracking jokes—no one had an excuse not to like Glen, even if he thrashed you in a game of chess, which he often did to me.

The seminary’s maintenance shop, where Glen worked part-­time as a carpenter, became his primary hangout during his early seminary years. There, a family atmosphere of friendly like-­minded students, including myself, gathered to earn a few shekels, play games of chess during break times, and bask in the mentorship of the seminary’s physical plant manager, Mike Reese.

Mike always demonstrated to his ‘shop boys’ an attitude of grace that ran counter to the competitive grade-­earning goals of our theological studies. At the seminary shop we could be ourselves, which for Glen meant plenty of freedom to engage in creative solutions to solve the problems inherit with maintaining the seminary’s older buildings. All of us who worked with him gained valuable skills as we watched Glen use his ‘make do’ experience in damage control, learned during his duty with the U.S. Navy.

Not all our seminary maintenance efforts were positive. For our correctable mistakes, Dick Kentopp and Glen made up a comedic code word: yict-­a-­boogie . [You know Glen. He made up a nickname for everything and everybody.] Perhaps our boss, Mike Reese, wouldn’t notice us talking about a yict-­a-­boogie until we had a chance to correct it. What little kids we were.

One day, Mike walked by our carpenter’s worktable and noticed a substantial mistake in our work. After discussing with Mike several possible repairs, none of which would work, Mike said with a twinkle in his eye, “Looks like you’ve got a serious yuck-­a-­baby.” I had to pick Riddle up from the floor he laughed so hard. The old man knew our ruse from the get-­go, even if he couldn’t properly pronounce yict-­a-­boogie.

Mike Reese taught us that there is nothing more joyous than a living, walking, talking example of someone who lives in the full knowledge and practice of God’s grace. This aptly describes Glen Riddle, my dearest friend, camp ministry coworker, and carpentry business partner during our seminary years.