Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That's the quip, and yet I can't help but think I'm right when I say my grandmother is beautiful.
We celebrated her 90th birthday a couple of weekends ago with family and friends, we toasted with cake and punch.
Grandma is healthy and strong, both physically and mentally. We are a blessed family to have her. She is amazing.
Her history is both intricate and simple. She was raised on a farm. Married a soldier who came home with a purple heart. Together they raised three great kids, who then went on to have eight grand kids.
We lost one in the service of his country. We are mothers and fathers, some even grandparents. We are manual-laborers and beauty-creators. We are intellectuals and nature-lovers. We are polar opposites, and yet I can still see myself in all of them if I look closely.
Grandma has known the beauty and the pain in this life. She's so down-to-earth it's almost comical at times.
Folks see her and marvel that 90 can look so good! Ninety is.....beautiful.
Grandma with her kids (my dad is far right)
I'm pondering today the beauty of aging gracefully.