When I opened the card from our daughter and son-in-law, I was confused. 

“To the best grandparents on the block” it stated on the front, with a drawing of Peanuts characters grinning and applauding. 

“I wonder why Marie sent us this card,” I said to my husband, Kevin. 

He opened the card and read, “ ‘Get ready to be Grandma and Grandpa!’ I bet this is her way of telling us she’s expecting a baby. Wow, that’s great.”

“Oh, how exciting!” I bubbled. 

Don’t Call Me Grandma!

But then it hit me: What will this child call me? 

At 46, I felt too young to become a grandma. Wasn’t that a name reserved for grey-haired ladies sitting in rocking chairs and watching game shows on TV? I still worked full time at a bank and was earning a degree at night. Who had time to rock and knit?

Growing older worried me. I hated the thought of wrinkles, saggy skin and grey hair. If I spotted a grey hair, I yanked it out. When that became a daily occurrence, I began colouring my hair to cover the grey. I spent a fortune on creams I thought would make my wrinkles disappear and my sagging skin un-sag. But the results reminded me of a story I heard about a five-year-old who asked his grandma what she was putting on her face. When she said, “Wrinkle cream,” he looked closely at her and then replied, “It’s working.”

Even when I read Psalm 37:25 I refused say the word “old.” Instead, I read it, “I was young and now I’m older.” I worried that if I allowed my grandchild to call me “Grandma,” I would, by some unspoken law of the universe, be admitting I was over the hill.

I worried that if I allowed my grandchild to call me “Grandma,” I would, by some unspoken law of the universe, be admitting I was over the hill. JEANETTE LEVELLIE

What’s to Fear?

One day as I poured out my heart to God in prayer, asking Him if I should keep colouring my hair or let it go grey, I heard His kind, gentle voice whisper, “Jeanette, it’s only hair.”

That got my attention. I laughed aloud as I considered God’s perspective. Considering the problems many people live with—sickness, poverty, homelessness—my obsession with the colour of my hair suddenly seemed petty.

From that moment on, my outlook changed. I later found a Bible passage that assured me of the value of growing older: “Grey hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life” (Proverbs 16:31 New Living Translation). If God viewed my grey hair as a crown of glory, who was I to argue?

Straighten That Crown

I was thoroughly convinced to accept my age many years later, regardless of the number or the colour of my hair.

While chatting with my teenaged granddaughter, I shared with her what I’d learned over the years about the importance of people versus things. All my experiences over the last 60-plus years, whether hard or happy, had given me hard-earned wisdom. Wisdom I could share with my grandchildren to help them live godly lives. Now that honour is worth giving up my red hair.

These days, anyone who wants to can call me “Grandma.” I wear that title with a smile.