When my kid sister (Jenna) and I were very young children, Grandma Lena Henry (1884–1966) had pet names for us.
I was Precious Book.
Jenna was Angel Band.
Whenever our family pulled up to our grandparents’ home for a visit, Grandma would be waiting on the porch. Then she’d shout across the yard (and into the next county!), “Here they cooooooooome! Precious Book and Angel Band! Sweetest thannnnnnngs in this whole world!” (Yeah, she said “thangs,” not “things.”)
Now, I thought about angels in the same sort of glamorized way that little girls think about princesses. So I felt a bit cheated to be a mere book; I wanted to be an angel. Of course, I hadn’t grasped Grandma’s deep love of the Bible, how precious that book is, and what an honor it was that Grandma associated me with it. I get it now! And when I think about my own love of the real Precious Book, I sometimes recall Grandma’s calling me that. I can almost hear her voice.
All children should be given such meaningful pet names.
