What's in a name....

 

My youngest nephew and his fiancé are expecting their first child in early May --- there is excitement all around!  

My nephew is a ginormous fan of all things "Lord of the Rings." He's read the books and even the initial volume that J.R.R. Tolkien wrote that sets the stage. He's watched all the movies multiple times and can talk for hours on the finer points of the shire; he has asked me to get the baby a blanket that's made from the wool of the New Zealand sheep which made the cloak worn by the Great Wizard. I kid you not. He sent me the link. I'm doing it.

When talking about what names are being considered for his son, the nephew remains adamant that he wants something that's unique, different, original. The family joke was knowing that consideration mixed with his deep fascination with the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, there was an above average possibility that the child could be named Gandalf....I mean he's going to be swaddled in the blanket made from the wool of the New Zealand sheep that made the wizard's cloak.

There is a story behind each name. When officiating a baptism, I always enjoyed having the parents answer the question, "What name is given to this child?"  

And there it is....the name is given and the name is received, there is a power in both.   

There is decency and respect and affording dignity by calling another by the name one wants to be known and referred. 

What's in a name?  Story. Identity. Lineage. Connection. Self awareness. 

Gram

 

I participated in a Women's Retreat where the opening question was, "What's your favorite flower?"   Seriously.  I almost pretended I had a phone call that I just had to take and left. My favorite flower??!!?!? Why not who's my favorite Pittsburgh Pirate? (Roberto Clemente). 

Being honest there's not a lot of flowers I could readily name....tulip, rose, dandelion...and not one of those would be my favorite.  

As the women gathered in the circle answered with long, and yes "flowery" answers citing why that particular flower, I confess, I had nothing. I was going to mention my birth month flower, the carnation, and then feign a phone emergency. 

Then, I remembered my Gram.

As a family we were blessed enough to have our Gram live with us. Around our house there were patches and patches of wild violets or what we called "Johnny Jump-Ups," they were all over, patches and patches of purple.  As a kid I wold pick a handful and proudly bring them to my Gram, who would be overly grateful as if I had just come back from the tropics with some rare orchid. Gram would thank me, preen about how lovely were the "Johnny Jump-ups" and then promptly place the little batch of wild violets, that were all my tiny hands could carry, into a small glass filled with water and place them in the center of the family table...a very serious place of honor.  

It's not only on International Women's Day that I think of my Gram. Like her youngest child, my mother, Gram was no frills, no fuss, steady, strong without telling you she was, steady, constant and lived a deep river faith.

Whenever I see patches of "Johnny Jump-Ups," I think of my Gram and how I would present her with these most common of flowers that were literally all over the property.  

The thing about "Johnny Jump-Ups" is exactly that, they are everywhere and they are reliable and constant and keep showing up season after season.....year after year....just like my Gram and all the strong and amazing women I have been and am blessed to know.

Happy International Women's Day.