I wouldn’t be the woman of faith I am today without my grandmother, Hilda Smith — my Gram.

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I was her first granddaughter, and we shared a bond that shaped the core of who I am.

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The summer I was 19, I lived with her. Her home—built by my Pop Pop—held stories in every corner. She taught me that it didn’t matter if something was homemade, thrifted, or store-bought. If you had it, you appreciated it, and you took care of it.

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One moment I’ll never forget:
We were sitting in a wooden pew at her church when she decided, then and there, to quit smoking. She prayed, and then she left her cigarette case behind on that pew. She never looked back and never took another puff.

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That day, I learned through grit, faith, and surrender, even addiction can be left at the cross.

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Gram believed in showing up. She took the Greyhound bus from Pennsylvania to New Mexico—three different times—to attend my brothers’ and my high school graduations. No distance was too far when it came to family.

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Her legacy lives in me to this day:

• I raised my kids to know Jesus, just like she did.
• I embrace frugality — no shame in thrift stores or garage sales!
• We show up for milestones. Weddings, graduations, celebrations — family matters.
• And when marriage gets hard, I remember what she told me:
  “The worst day of marriage is only 10 times harder than your best date.”
  My husband and I just celebrated 29 years of marriage.

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Thank you, Gram! Your legacy lives on in everything I do — and in the next generation, too.