Some evenings I spend in the company of a wise woman. I say that not as a testament to her post graduate degrees, or her published legacy. Rather, she has lived a life whose themes are service and gratitude. 

"Every day I remember God's blessings. He has been good to me."

We chat while she finishes her dinner, and I take a few vitals. To keep the doctor's mind at ease. Sometimes we play Scrabble. She still knows her way around a dictionary, and can wrangle those double punch plays that complete a string of two letter words as an afterthought. Add the impact of a pink square below and she racked up a hefty score. Once she even pulled off a seven letter word that came with a big bonus. 

There is the minor detail that she sometimes forgets rules, like the time she put her first word directly on a red triple square rather than the star in the center. But life is too short to mention it. 

She is the last living member of her family of origin, the Scots that lost both a baby and a sister who lived a year in the hospital trying to gain her strength. When her father died, she went to work at age fifteen. There is no residual blame at these circumstances. Her willingness to support her mother and siblings is what shines to me seventy-five years later. 

"My first boss even came to my wedding! I don't know how he knew I was getting married!"

Her career took a permanent pause when her own daughter and son had babies that needed a loving Granny. As always, she did what needed to be done. One of the tangible testaments to her life is the album of messages from her children and grandchildren when she turned ninety. She is loved.

Sometimes our conversation wanders to the inevitable move ahead of her. There is a shadow of fear around death, and her worthiness. 

I wish I could reassure her. If Heaven required a letter of recommendation, I could compose one effusive with praise for her devotion and love of family. But the afterlife is not like grad school. 

Yet in anticipation of meeting her Maker, this woman sleeps with the bible in her bed, and a prayer on her lips. Not even a blood pressure cup can adequately measure the strength of her heart.