If you're a grandma, this devotional is for you! Follow along with the stories in this collection for some laughs and encouragement. You'll find inspiration and hope as you read, so you can walk more closely with the Lord in this special stage of life.

Terms of Endearment

by Gracie Malone

I don’t care what you call me; just call me. ~Anonymous

When our grandson Luke started babbling, all ears perked up. “Dah-d-d-d-dah, M-m-m-m-m, Mah!” Eventually, the jabbered syllables became words—the ones he would use to identify his parents. Little Luke didn’t say the usual toddler words, “Dada” or “Mama.” Oh, no! One day, while munching on a handful of Cheerios, he nonchalantly looked up at my daughter-in-law and addressed her in a very grown-up manner as “Mom.” A few days later, he pronounced my son his “Dad.” We were elated. After two years of parental coaxing, Luke could talk. Now, I wondered, what would he call me?

My mother is “Me Ma”—a name lovingly bestowed on her by grandson number one. My friend Carol is “Mia.” I know one “Mimi,” two “Grams” and a “G-mother.” One of my friends is addressed with the very British-sounding “Grandma-ma.” My sister Lois is identified by the conventional title “Grandmother.” Even the youngest of her grandkids is able to mouth the distinguished-sounding term. Lois is delighted. In her opinion, grandmother is “the most beautiful word a grandchild can say.”

One afternoon, Lois explained to me how the grandmother titling process works. “You see,” she began, “it’s Luke’s choice. No matter what you call yourself, he will make his own selection, and, most likely, your future grandchildren will follow suit. Don’t worry about it, Gracie. Whatever he calls you, I’m sure it will be just perfect.” With that bit of information safely tucked away in my memory bank, I waited and I wondered.

Then one day, just as Lois predicted, when I was stacking blocks with Luke, it happened. He placed his block atop the leaning tower we’d built on my living room floor, grinned, and started to speak, “Gr-r-r-r …” My heart skipped a beat as I waited for the word “gr-r-r-andma” or “gr-r-r-andmother” to come from his peanut-butter-covered mouth. But his enunciation was perfectly clear as he said, “Gr-r-r-acie.”

I have to admit I was a bit disappointed. I had hoped to have my grandchildren call me something more tender and, well … unique and special. Maybe even something classy or cute. Nevertheless, I was delighted my grandson had spoken my name. And I thought perhaps my title would change as Luke’s verbal skills developed; maybe it would even evolve into something a little more traditional.

It didn’t happen.

Even when his parents coaxed and made suggestions, my moniker stuck like a piece of gum on the bottom of my shoe. “Gr-r-racie,” Luke would bellow, and in spite of feeling a bit chagrined at the grown-up manner the little tyke spoke my name, I’d come-a-runnin’.

Gracie is what Luke called me until his parents finally convinced him to add the title “Grandma.” It just seemed the respectable thing to do. So today I am Luke’s “Grandma Gracie.” (I’m also “Grandma Gracie” to a whole passel of subsequent grandchildren.)

And I’ve decided my sister was right after all. “Grandma Gracie” was the perfect choice. In spite of the 50-year age gap between us, my grandson and I have a “Luke and Gracie” kind of relationship. A friendship—one I will cherish for the rest of my days.

A good name is to be more desired than great wealth; Favor is better than silver and gold. Proverbs 22:1 NASB