Five months before Armistice Day, the official end of World War One, my grandmother Irene was born in Chicago—on June 11, 1918.
It’s hard to imagine seeing a whole century of life, and even my grandma says she can’t believe she’s one hundred years old. But here she is today, physically and mentally healthy, and soon to celebrate with children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and other relatives.
She’s spent her life taking care of people, loving and serving them, and even now she keeps up with what everyone in the family is doing. She blesses everyone she meets. We're so grateful that she's been with us this long! From her faith in God to her many years of wisdom and experience, she is an inspiration to me. I’m honored for her name to be my middle name.
Happy birthday to one of the best women I know!