In the Holy Roman Catholic Church in which I grew up, blue is color of the liturgical vestments in the season of Advent
I have yet to play the role most dear to my heart: the role of Grandmother. I have encountered few impediments once I decide I wish to take on a particular role. This role, the role of Grandmother, is not in my power to initiate, however – nor do I wish to have power in this case. Grandmother is a bonus role – one that results from the actions of others, it’s acceptance conferred by others. This role, this station, this consecration is one that is not in my power to create. Also, it’s timing is totally out of my control. This is why becoming a Grandmother is so very sweet.
What’s in a name? (Romeo & Juliet W. Shakespeare)
One of the things I might (and I say that gently) have some capacity to influence is what I will be called. For many years I thought I’d wish to be Nana; however, as I am aging, I cannot see me taking on the name that was so perfectly inhabited by my husband’s grandmother. I think I may need my own. So, I’ve been collecting and cataloging possible (and NOT possible) names:
I still have lots of time, so I’m on the lookout for more.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet (Romeo & Juliet W. Shakespeare)
It probably won’t matter what I am called in the end. What I may wish to be called is likely to be morphed by little lips and tongues (see Growie above) into something totally different. I have the option of asking my own child to help refer to me, when speaking of me to their children, by my preferred name; but again, not in my control. My Aunt Colleen tells a story about her six year old granddaughter. Namdi went to school and discovered there were other names for grandmother besides “Gramma“, the name she called my aunt. Namdi asked if she use Granny instead. My aunt replied in the knowing, accepting ways of grandmothers, “Of course, darling. You may call me whatever you wish.” “Then I will call you Granny!”, said Namdi with delight. “Is that ok, Gramma?”
a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose (Gertrude Stein)
In the end, it will not matter very much to me what my tiny beloved calls me. It is the relationship that matters, not the name. I am amazed at how easily I think I could pull back from extending the status of outward relationships in favor of tending so personal and intimate a relationship as one has with a grandchild. This must be the wisdom of Odyssey – to voyage outwardly only to discover the depths of one’s true self to be at home, where the adventure began; and desire it intensely.
Advent is not sad, like Lent – and it is my most favorite of the Liturgical Seasons of the Church. Advent is about preparing and waiting for the hope of Christmas. One must have Advent first in order for Christmas to come. So in my personal bubble, it is Advent, and it is advent; I am preparing. I am ecstatic with hope and anticipation.
Do you have a name to share? If so, and you would like to add it to my list, please comment below! I will post the list from time to time as I have additions.