Finding meaning in family names, memory, and the faith that shapes generations
They call me The Gramminator.
I didn’t always know that would be my name.
Before I had grandsons, I had granddogs, and without ever really deciding it, I always referred to myself as Grammie. It just slipped out naturally, and it felt right in a way I didn’t question.
My husband’s choice was simple. He is Papa, just like his Papa and namesake. The name felt right, familiar, and anchored in family history.
A Memory That Changed Everything
I knew my choice of the name Grammie truly mattered one afternoon when my husband was cleaning out and selling some of our old video equipment. I curled up on the bed and started the video. I laughed as I watched, then fast-forwarded through endless hours of content. Until the screen showed a rare Christmas morning from years ago when my girls were probably four and six. The picture was grainy, the sound uneven, but suddenly my mother’s voice filled the room.
“Let Grammie see.”
I burst into tears.
Oh, how I miss my parents.
That one word carried so much love, so much history, and so much longing all at once. In that moment, I knew Grammie wasn’t just a name I’d used. It was a name I’d inherited.
When a New Name Is Given
Fast forward a few years, and now I have three grandsons, ages one, four, and six. Somewhere along the way, with great affection and very straight faces, they upgraded my title.
I became The Gramminator.
You really have to say it properly, preferably in a deep voice and with a serious expression. It is clearly meant to echo The Terminator, even though I am fairly certain none of them have ever seen the movie. And that is probably for the best.
As an author, I could absolutely justify spelling it with two m’s and calling it a play on Grammie. But let’s be honest, I have three editors, five beta readers, and numerous ARC readers for a reason….
Choosing What to Carry Forward
I have given serious thought to which qualities I will claim as The Gramminator.
I will happily take the loyalty, the protectiveness, and the determination of the movie character, T-800 Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. I am all in on showing up no matter what, standing my ground when it matters, and loving my people with everything in me.
As for the cold, relentless destruction and intimidating presence, I am going to pass on those. There are limits. Though I give a pretty impressive stink-eye when needed.
All joking aside, I have decided something important. I will let my grandsons call me whatever respectable name they choose. Because names change. Seasons change. And what stays constant is the relationship underneath it all.
The Faith That Moves Between Generations
Being a grandmother has added a layer to my life that I did not know I was missing. It has softened me in some ways and strengthened me in others. It has reminded me that legacy is not only what we write or build or accomplish. Sometimes it is as simple and as sacred as answering when a small voice calls your name.
Scripture tells us that one generation declares God’s faithfulness to the next. Often, that declaration does not come through speeches or explanations, but through presence, love, and faith lived out quietly.
Whatever name they use, I want my grandchildren to know they are safe, deeply loved, and anchored to something steady and true. If they sense God’s faithfulness through that, then I will have done something that matters.
Whatever name they call me.
I lov the name gramminator you are a women of strength and have three handsome grandsons love following you
Oh sweet Jean. I miss your smiling face and joyous attitude! I pray you are well.
When my son was small, he had a Grandma S, a Grandma Beth, and my Grandma. So, his great-grandmother. But since there were multiple women with Grandma in the name, my Grandma became Grandma THE Grandma. Because she really was The Grandma. The one with the cookie jar, and birthday cakes, and sleepovers.
I love this story! Thank you for sharing.
What a wonderful story! And your Mom was most definitely Grammie. I miss her, too.
Funny how those moments pop up!
My oldest chose to call my mom “Mawmaw” as soon as she was old enough to talk. My youngest calls her “Meemaw.” She happily answers to both names!
Both are fun names and I love how they made it their own.