The third grade has a program of matching children with grandparents. Not their own, as it happens, but other graying members of the community that enjoy kids. Since my grands are thirty and three hundred miles away, I signed on. 

Max looked up with a mixture of anxiousness and eagerness the first time I walked into the classroom. He did not know me. I did not know him, though his realio trulio grandmother lives five houses away from me. His mother told me that Max listened to a few of my songs on You Tube, and liked them. Our first two get togethers involved simple projects with scissors and glue, and a chance to chat. It was fun. 

The December event was meant to be a tad more special. I could bring Max a little present. I puzzled about it and settled on a chocolate orange. I don't know his family's rules about sugar, but decided to risk it. A few minutes before I left for the school I cut him a snowflake with his name in it. That is a trick John has been doing for a long time. You include the letters in the cuts of the paper and when you open it up it looks lacy. I tucked it into the gift bag.

While we were waiting for the instructions from the teacher I handed him the snowflake and explained how it said "MAX". He was shocked. He unfolded it and marveled at the way his name became the design. 

Our son Micah had a best friend named Max. In fact they spent so much time at his house I playfully offered for his parents to deduct him as a dependent on their taxes. One time Micah was musing in the back of our car, back when I had imperatives like California freeways to deal with and he had the freedom to muse. 

"Mom, I just figured something out. All the letters of Max's name are in the alphabet!" He was incredulous at the serendipity of it. Another time we were driving and he shouted from the back seat. 

"Look! There is a letter of Max's name!" 

I quickly scanned for a sign but there were none. Oh, that was it. The legs of a picnic table. 

Our given name is a precious commodity. It is the handle for others to address us, the label for all things legal, a spoken endearment, and our persona. Respect for it even qualifies as one of God's ten directives. 

Seeing what it meant to Max to have his own name embedded in a single sheet of paper moved me. I felt a surge of affection for this young man who will grow into his own identity. 

I looked up the meaning of it, and smiled. I may be pretending to be his grand but he topped that. 

"Max- The greatest."