My grandchildren call me Mimi.

I like being a Mimi and all the responsibility that comes with that title. I get to read stories, rock babies, play. I get to make up songs and sing little ones to sleep. I get to look into their eyes with kindness. I get to smile and laugh at their silly antics. I get to snuggle them and tell them how much I love them. At this very moment, I have one granddaughter, four grandsons and another grandson on the way. The boys are taking over.

I can’t remember a time in my life that I ever imagined myself without children, but I never thought much about grandchildren until my children were adults. I loved growing close to my daughters but being a Mimi feels different. I don’t have the responsibility I had with my own children, instead, it’s a different kind of responsibility. One that lets my adult daughters know I am there for them, that I am willing and able to help out when they need me, that I am excited about building a relationship with my grandchildren. In my grandmother-grandchild relationships, I am more relaxed. I don’t have to be concerned about providing for them like their parents do, but I get to provide for them in ways I want to. I get to buy them gifts. I get to indulge. I get to act like a kid again.

In Proverbs 17:6, we are told that grandchildren are the crown of the aged. Although calling myself aged isn’t appealing, being distinguished because I have grandchildren is. Since I am older (and hopefully wiser), not only do I get to snuggle, indulge and play, I also get to teach, to love, to share wisdom.

Showing my grandchildren love is showing them the very essence of Jesus. When I am loving them, I am teaching them how to love. I am teaching them that love is unconditional. That love is kind. That love is patient. I am teaching them that I will always love them, that nothing they ever do will stop me from loving them. I am teaching them they are worthy of love.

Growing up I didn’t get a lot of advice or attention from my grandparents. Actually I don’t remember getting any advice. Not one word of wisdom. Maybe they didn’t think it was their place to offer advice. I never asked for any. But I could’ve used some words of wisdom. I could’ve used some attention. I want my relationships with my grandchildren to be different. I want to teach and advise from an early age. I want them to understand that I know things because I’ve lived them. I want them to feel comfortable asking me anything. I want them to hear me, really listen to me, when I say something wise. Not for my benefit, but for theirs. But I have to cultivate this kind of relationship. It is my responsibility to be the Mimi I am called to be.

So I ask questions about school and about their interests and wait excitedly for their answers. I’ve learned about Pokemon, Bluey and Paw Patrol. I know who DogMan is and which Harry Potter book my older grandsons are reading. I know their likes, dislikes and dreams. And I will keep learning. I choose to be engaged. I choose to love on these sweet little ones because they will grow up too fast.

When my oldest grandson was around two years old, I had the opportunity to babysit him and spend a couple of days just hanging out and playing. He wanted to play “fighting dinosaurs.” I had no idea what that game was or where he’d even come up with the idea. Just as I was looking around for toy dinosaurs and saying to him, “How do you play fighting dinosaurs?” he lunged toward me with a grrrroar. I was caught off guard as he leapt onto my body trying to wrestle me to the ground. (Well actually we were sitting on his bed, so at least the “ground” was soft.) I was a little afraid I’d hurt him so I was taking it easy. That was the wrong thing to do! I quickly found out when my grandson is determined to play “fighting dinosaurs” he is out to be the winner of the fight. We played again the next day and I made sure I was the winner, gently lifting him into the air, grrrroaring, then placing him on the floor, making sure to hold him there momentarily. Winning didn’t keep me from going home with a few bruises, though.

In my house, there’s a room dedicated to my grandchildren when they come to visit and stay the night. I used to call it the bunk room because we had a set of bunkbeds in there and an extra sleeper sofa. But now that there are five grandchildren who need a place to sleep, I’ve separated the bunkbeds, bought trundles to go underneath the two beds and have an extra frame and mattress available when all the grandchildren stay at the house at the same time. The closet is stocked with toys and the room houses books and stuffies. I also have a potting shed out back that holds the outdoor toys. The bats and balls. The bows and arrows. The tennis rackets. The lone jumprope.

When my husband and I made a move eight years ago to the mountains of North Carolina, we bought a house in a neighborhood that had five small lakes, 20 miles of hiking trails and a pool. The kids and grandkids loved all the aspects of the neighborhood. They liked hiking, playing in the lakes and creeks and enjoyed the pool when the day was hot. I worried when we decided to sell that house and buy one in town that the grandkids would be disappointed. Where would they see the blue tailed skinks? Would they be sad we’d no longer walk down our long driveway looking for snails hanging out on the stone wall? Hiking and fishing wouldn’t be right out our front door. As much as I wanted to move out of the forest, I was concerned the relationships I was building with my grandchildren through nature would be sad for them (and me) when it was gone. When our intentional times together would look different.

But none of that has happened. Not one grandchild has mentioned they miss the old house and the things we did there because we are building new memories at our new place. We can walk to all the shops, the bookstore, the toy store, the restaurants. We can walk to get ice cream, play games at the arcade and join in the many festivals our small town has to offer. We can run around the backyard, teach children how to play a new game in the basement or sit out on the back porch or patio and enjoy a meal together. We haven’t seen one blue tailed skink but we have seen bluebirds in our bluebird house. We haven’t looked for snails but we’ve enjoyed watching the white squirrels hop from tree to tree. We haven’t been in a lake but we’ve enjoyed time at the local playground right around the corner. So, no matter where we live, there are memories to be made. Some will be simple, like helping to turn the ice cream crank when making homemade ice cream and some will be learning experiences like searching through the bird book for a bird we just saw in the yard and learning about it.

Every summer, my husband, David, and I, our daughters, their husbands, and our grandchildren head to the beach for a family vacation. Our time together is relaxing, enjoyable, exhausting and full of special moments. We laugh, we eat, we get sandy and get up and do it again the next day. Sometimes we indulge in sweets, put together a new puzzle, and explore the island on bicycles. We fly kites, search for shells on the beach and shop for souvenirs. There are often tears.

I can’t imagine life without these young people. I am willing to drive hours to spend time with them, to love on them, to build that grandmother-grandchild relationship. I am so thankful I have a flexible schedule. I am so thankful that my grown daughters and their husbands want me in their lives. And I am so thankful they trust me with their precious little ones. I am here to make a difference in the lives of my grandchildren, who in turn will make a difference in the lives of those they encounter. And one day, when they are aged, they will show unconditional love to their grandchildren. They will snuggle, they will play, they will give wise advice.