—Vance Daniels, Highland 7th Ward
I recently had the privilege of attending the 101st birthday celebration of my grandma-in-V
law. One hundred and one years. Just saying it feels remarkable.
She is not someone who seeks attention. In fact, if you know her, you know she would
prefer the spotlight shine anywhere else. She has lived a quiet, consistent life of service.
Including raising seven children. She has known deep heartache and profound trial,
more than most of us can imagine. And yet, she radiates joy.
Her birthday was celebrated with an open house. For nearly four hours, there was a
steady line of people waiting to greet her. As I watched her interact with each guest, I
noticed something powerful. She didn’t make the day about herself. She turned every
conversation outward, asking about their families, their work, their lives. She makes you
feel important, she is genuinely interested.
Her connections spanned generations and people from every background. The kind of
connections you might not assume a 101-year-old woman would naturally have. And
yet, she connected effortlessly. You could see it in her eyes. You could feel it in her
presence.
There was light in her.
And as I’ve reflected on that day, I’ve realized that light didn’t appear overnight. It wasn’t
the result of one grand, heroic act. It was built over a lifetime.
It came from choosing faith in Christ again and again.
Through grief.
Through disappointment.
Through loss.
Through quiet, ordinary days.
She chose prayer.
She chose scripture study.
She chose service.
She chose to trust the Savior.
I’m reminded of Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf’s words:
“He doesn’t expect us to take some grand, heroic, or superhuman leap to get there. In
the world He created, growth happens gradually and patiently—but also consistently
and unrelentingly.”
That’s her life. Gradual. Patient. Consistent. Unrelenting in faith.
We often think spiritual strength comes from big moments. But her life is evidence that it
comes from small, repeated decisions. Choosing Christ daily. Choosing to love.
Choosing to serve. Choosing to trust when it hurts.
And over time, those choices compound.
They become light.
At 101 years old, she isn’t remembered for worldly success. She is remembered, and
loved, because she became more like the Savior.
That’s the invitation for all of us.
Not to make one dramatic leap.
But to choose Him again and again.
And trust that growth will come.