Editor’s note: The following is from the Crumbs of Candor 2021 archive.

Several years ago, while sitting in church in another state, my oldest grandchild, Jack, sent me a lengthy and sentimental text. Being unsure of the sermon topic, something stirred within him and he elaborated his appreciation and love for me.

A special bond between a grandparent and their first grandchild exists, but this was deeper. His words revealed that he had fully embraced manhood and took full responsibility for poor choices from his past.

He expressed gratitude for the positive influence I had had on his life, while critical of himself and magnifying his flaws. Who among us doesn’t from time to time? He shared a couple of personal experiences of how my unconditional love, acceptance and example of hope and forgiveness had impacted him.

My interpretation was that he had arrived — as a mature man — and he had. He offered zero blame or excuse for his shortcomings and errors, fully accepting absolute responsibility. He owned them. It was a happy and joyful Grandmam moment to recognize his new level of acceptance and responsibility.

The message flattered me yet exhibited a humility that comes with maturity. As is his habit, he ended on a humorous note.

He followed up with a brief text a few days later: “thinking of you again this morning. I love you so much and I could sure use some of your delicious pancakes before this long work day. Tell Grandpa I love him too and get to work on my Thunderbird. I’ll come pick it up when it’s ready. Ha.”

Every grandchild is special and loved beyond measure, but apparently, somewhere along the way, my influence and prayers had a profound effect on this one.

Fast forward to the day in my kitchen when I overheard him tell his very lovely wife, “I told you I married my Grandmam.”

It grabbed my attention. She chuckled and revealed he said that often. She didn’t seem offended, so my curiosity was piqued.

Actually, Amber and I have a plethora of things in common. We share a frustration of attempting to work in clutter and/or chaos, finding it a huge distraction. Neither of us can function at full capacity when distracted by disarray.

We detest contention. But don’t assume that either of us is a pushover. We will fight to the death to defend right, especially if it involves one of our own.

We both have big feet, or at least a “firm foundation” with our size 10 shoes. We have participated in social media quizzes. Facebook never lies, right? Without fail, we found even more similarities. We even order our pizza the exact same way: thin crust with pepperoni, mushrooms and extra cheese. We love math and tricky questions.

So, in writing this, I asked Jack to explain what he means when he says, “I married my Grandmam.” Taken aback by the depth of devotion threw me for a loop, but this is the unfiltered response he messaged me.

“Amber is like my Grandmam in that she lights up a room when she walks in. When she’s happy she has a beautiful smile that is legitimately genuine. When she decides to do something she puts her whole heart into it which is a very rare quality. She has more than above average intelligence and the common sense to match and knows a little bit about a lotta stuff and a lot about more than a little bit of stuff. She loves her family as much as any woman I have ever seen just like my Grandmam does and does more than her best to juggle 10,000 things at once and make it all work like she planned it that way from the start even when she did have it mostly planned out ahead of time. Just like my Grandmam. Even when she just wings it she makes it look easy and most ppl can’t tell the difference, just like my Grandmam. And I know I’m missing many other comparisons but one that is one of the greatest things is that she can freakin’ cook lots of things beyond good. … Just like my Grandmam. I love you both very much.”

Our family loves Jack. His sense of humor is uniquely twisted, his wisdom beyond his years, his adventurous spirit is contagious and when he says something, he means it.

When he says, “I married my Grandmam,” that’s precisely what he means, and in many ways, he did. Ladies, watch how your fellow treats the women in his family. If they disrespect them, they will disrespect you. It’s an invaluable clue to your future.

I love you, Jackie Tooter … but that’s another story.