They Call Me Grandma

“What’s your grandma name?”
“Grandma.”
“Really? Couldn’t you come up with something a bit more creative?”
“Nope. I love it. It’s just right.”

They rush in the door, excitement on their faces, ready for whatever adventure the day holds. To be honest, most of what we have available at our house consists of old Beanie Babies©, pirate ships, and castles that their dad and aunts played with as children. I keep paint, paper, scissors, and glue near the small “Santa table,” so named because it was a Christmas surprise for our oldest on one of her first Christmases. But overall, the biggest thing I can offer them is my time, my attention, and my love.

We read books together and discuss the ones they’re reading on their own. Sometimes we walk or drive to story time or to check out books at the local library. Occasionally, we make books of our own. I gave each of them a blank journal in their favorite color. They couldn’t wait to fill it, one with a graphic novel, and the other with illustrations of ninjas, dragons, and castles. Most recently, they’re working on a novel on Canva©. I can’t wait to see what they come up with.

The shelves in our home are filled with books and vacation mementos, antiques and artifacts, and photographs of family. Nothing is off limits to touch or pick up and all questions are welcomed conversation-starters. Mementoes from family history invite countless retellings of our adventures and stories of times past. I imagine our grandchildren are among the only kids under the age of ten who have dialed a rotary phone and typed on manual typewriter.

Bunk beds converted into tents and campers are the perfect campout spot for sleepovers or rainy-day retreats. Real popcorn popped on the gas stove in the frying pan with a clear lid is great entertainment, especially when we lift the top just enough to allow a handful of kernels to escape. The kids’ laughter is my favorite sound.

Mountains of boxes in the garage from doorstep deliveries become playhouses and castles before they’re reduced and recycled. Jars full of saltwater on my kitchen window ledge hold growing salt crystals. Our refrigerator door is a full-to-overflowing art gallery.

Grandchildren are gifts from our good God. In all the laughter, in all the chaos, come teachable moments. We talk of snakes and snails, cabbages and kings. We ponder over ants and rocks and wildflowers in the back yard and identify birds eating from our feeder. We soak up creation by gazing into the tree canopy, the blue sky, or listening to the thunder and feeling the breeze pick up before a rainstorm. In those simple quiet moments, the unexpected kisses and the trust they bestow in their whispered secrets assure me that the gift of presence is the best gift of all.

But what if grandchildren are halfway around the world? What if they only see us through technology? What if we have only intermittent bits and bites of time with them? Proverbs 17:6 says, “Grandchildren are the crown of the elderly, and the pride of the children is in their fathers.” We as grandparents have a space in our grandchildren’s hearts that can only be filled by us. Even if all we get are tiny snatches of time, we can make sure we are fully present in those moments. We can be sure we listen, notice, pay attention to the little stories of their day and pick up on the things they choose to tell. These minute windows into their hearts give us clues about what they enjoy and what they worry about. These little tidbits are gifts straight from their heart to ours.

When we live out our faith and open our lives to share with our grandchildren, they see the Father through us. Like Paul’s words to Timothy in 2 Timothy 1:5, “I recall your sincere faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and now, I am convinced is in you also,” we pass on the legacy of faith through our investment, not in things, not in stuff, but in time, in presence, in love spread lavishly on those little people who call us “Grandma and Papi.”

I love the small spaces of precious time snatched between rushing from one opportunity to the next. I love being in the middle of where their imaginations happen. I love being the place they run to and the place they hate to leave.

So, what’s my grandma name? I love being the one they call, “Grandma!”