When we were expecting our first grandchild, people would ask me what I wanted my grandchildren to call me. I didn’t have an answer. I always figured that they would chose their own word for me. When Evan was only a little more than a year, he started calling Gary, “Boppa.” It was “Boppa, Boppa, Boppa” all day long. I was disappointed that he didn’t seem to have a special word for me. He called his mother, his aunt and me all Mama. It’s only been a few weeks now, since he turned two, that he calls his mother, “Mama,”  his aunt, “Tete” (auntie), and me, “Oma.” I never would have imagined how good it is to hear that word and know it’s meant for just me. It brings to mind one of my favorite Bible passages from Isaiah 43: 1; God says to the Isrealites, “I have called you by name, you are are mine.” Evan calls me Oma now. He knows that I belong to him. Who calls you by name? To whom do you belong?