about 92

Tomorrow my grandmother turns 92 years old.

I find myself wanting to brag about the life she has lived and is living, about the incredible person that she is.  And in that, I'm struck by what makes someone who has lived more than 9 decades so remarkable.

My grandmother prays for me everyday.  She gives more to other people than they probably deserve. She does not complain. She lives in a constant state of optimism that isn't fake or a mask; it is honest, it is something rooted deep inside herself.  She has comforted me during my moments of heartbreak, and she has whispered in my ear that things would heal and mend. And then they would.

It's funny, the things that create a significant life.  It's not the things I often think about, like the accomplishments I'll list on my resume, or the adult-like furniture I'll acquire, or the amount of money I'll have for retirement.  Those aren't the things your grandchildren will brag about, or the things someone will remember.

Significant life is built from the day to day choosing of the harder option -- choosing joy when you could choose sorrow, choosing other people instead of yourself, choosing prayer instead of silence.

Happy birthday, Grammie -- thank you for the millions of choices that have built your beautiful life, and for how that life has made mine beautiful in return.