Here's a woman who took beaten and neglected children into her home to offer solace from the trauma she'd once been subjected to.
It was that grace, among many, that won over the judging panel.
I picked up the phone and rang her to break the news that she was our Person of the Year, and asked if we could visit to snap a few photographs.
"A photograph? Okay, I'd better see if I can find my teeth".
From memory, her search was unsuccessful. But I got the feeling she hardly cared. Like many who find a vocation in battling issues of such gravitas, appearances count for little.
She kept it real. Her stance offered us a somewhat uncomfortable but healthy shot of perspective. That's why she's so tough to eulogise.
Friend Megan Rose, who had worked with Minnie and nominated her for the Person of the Year, said it better than anyone in 2017.
"She has overcome many of the hurdles that she encourages others to conquer, and she has walked a path few would choose, but the pain of her own experiences is without bitterness."
Such experiences, Rose said, were instead used to gently remind others that they too were capable of breaking the cycles that threatened to bind them to a predestined future.
"She takes children on hīkoi to share time and experiences with people from different worlds to their own, reframing relationships with police, politicians and nature."
Hopefully she rests easy in the knowledge that her efforts on Maraenui's front line have sparked a groundswell of real change.
With or without dentures, that's something to smile about.
