I attended my niece’s basketball game a few days ago and met a lady, age 71, who was joyful and kind and friendly. I learned she had experienced the death of two children, age 30 and age 18. They both died of a genetic heart disease. The youngest one died suddenly, without knowledge that she even had a problem. The oldest left a two year old son after being diagnosed with the disease 8 years previous. She too has been diagnosed, as well as her 50 year old daughter and several grandkids. This woman’s faith in God and her children’s faith in God seem to be the major catalyst in her resilience. My heart ached for her. I cannot imagine the depth of sorrow she has endured. But before I even knew this information, her strength, joy, and compassion struck me. Clearly, there was something remarkable about her. She said she loves her work, a neonatal nurse who sees lot of traumatic situations with newborns, many from drug addicted moms. She gets to love on the babies and develop relationships with the families. She looks like your everyday grandma who lives in a little town no one has ever heard of, nothing remarkable or noticeable at first glance. She is so full of life and love. I told her I would be praying for her, which I am. I told her she was a hero to me, which she is. To have endured so much pain and be so full and giving is nothing ordinary. It is truly brave.