My grandmother, on my dad’s side, turned 96. Amazing. I went to visit her last night…and as I was sitting there visiting, I watched her. She’s a beautiful person. I think old age strips a person down to the very essence of their self. There my grandmother sat, her mind, sharp as a tack, but with this old, wrinkled, feeble body. And on the inside, she is still this beautiful, young, vibrant woman. My heart has been overflowing with love for her. And appreciation for all the things she’s given me…just by the choices she’s made in her life, and by the kind of support and dedication to the truths she’s embraced. I admire her…and feel that each day she’s still alive is a gift.