Names
Tonight when I went to pick up Victor after work I saw Miriam, the little girl I am tentatively claiming as a namesake. I never actually have been told that she is my namesake, and I've never had the courage to ask, but I reason that it can't hurt to consider it a possibility unless I'm told otherwise. Her older siblings have been my students and, when she was born, her father was the principal where I taught.
The matter of name choices fascinates me. Other people's preferences sometimes prompts in me a What were they thinking? response. But, for all I know, they feel the same about mine. I am especially averse to name spellings so creative that hardly anyone instinctively knows how to do it right. Intentionally chosen with this in mind, Joel, Shane, and Grant--our boys' names-- are hard to mangle--in spelling or pronunciation. We reasoned that with a last name like ours, we'd better give them one name that others will not routinely corrupt.
I'm pleased to have been named for one of my mother's dear young-adult friends. My middle name is the same as my grandmother Beachy's first name. I can't say that I've always been in love with my name, but I don't hate it. The Miriam in the Bible has various faces--the responsible big sister who watched to see that her baby brother Moses stayed safe, the charismatic prophetess who led the women of Israel in singing and dancing, and, in the greatest blot on her character, the rebellious woman who murmured against Moses, the leader God had chosen for His people. The mantle of precedent hangs heavy when you have a name like Miriam.
The popularity of names is clearly cyclical. I always know multiple people with the names published in the top ten names lists each year. In the six years I've been teaching at the high school, our highest enrollment has been in the low twenties, but we've always had at least two students with the same first name. The duplicates have been Sherilyn, Sheila, Ryan, and Timothy.
Among the male immigrant ancestors I've been able to identify, the names John (9), Christian (8), and Jacob (5) occur the most frequently. Daniel, Abraham, and Peter each occur twice, and the ones occurring once are Ulrich, Stephen, Benedict, Samuel, Michael, and Yost. Among the women who were immigrant ancestors, the names Barbara and Anna each occur three times. Catherine occurs twice, and the ones occurring once are Magdalena, Veronica, Elizabeth, and Mary.
The women's names are a shorter list because too many times, the immigrant female's name has been lost completely, with only the first name of one of her descendants several generations down the line remembered. I mourn for these lost women, who no doubt lived as vigorously and well as their husbands, but whom history has forgotten. They show up on my immigrant fan chart as the beginning of a widening fan sector that stays blank all the way to the edge of the chart. No name, regardless how overused or common, deserves that fate.
The Bible speaks of God calling us by name and of Him recording in the Book of Life the name of each person who belongs to Him. Could it be that Hunter and Piper are names as precious to God as Abraham and Sarah--as fit for the Book of Life? Will even names like John and Paul be put aside in heaven in favor of the new name Revelation speaks of for those who live there?
I can't imagine ever being called anything but Miriam or Mrs. I. But I'm sure that if God Himself calls me by another name I will know when He means me. The name He uses will fit me perfectly, and I will find it eternally fascinating.
The matter of name choices fascinates me. Other people's preferences sometimes prompts in me a What were they thinking? response. But, for all I know, they feel the same about mine. I am especially averse to name spellings so creative that hardly anyone instinctively knows how to do it right. Intentionally chosen with this in mind, Joel, Shane, and Grant--our boys' names-- are hard to mangle--in spelling or pronunciation. We reasoned that with a last name like ours, we'd better give them one name that others will not routinely corrupt.
I'm pleased to have been named for one of my mother's dear young-adult friends. My middle name is the same as my grandmother Beachy's first name. I can't say that I've always been in love with my name, but I don't hate it. The Miriam in the Bible has various faces--the responsible big sister who watched to see that her baby brother Moses stayed safe, the charismatic prophetess who led the women of Israel in singing and dancing, and, in the greatest blot on her character, the rebellious woman who murmured against Moses, the leader God had chosen for His people. The mantle of precedent hangs heavy when you have a name like Miriam.
The popularity of names is clearly cyclical. I always know multiple people with the names published in the top ten names lists each year. In the six years I've been teaching at the high school, our highest enrollment has been in the low twenties, but we've always had at least two students with the same first name. The duplicates have been Sherilyn, Sheila, Ryan, and Timothy.
Among the male immigrant ancestors I've been able to identify, the names John (9), Christian (8), and Jacob (5) occur the most frequently. Daniel, Abraham, and Peter each occur twice, and the ones occurring once are Ulrich, Stephen, Benedict, Samuel, Michael, and Yost. Among the women who were immigrant ancestors, the names Barbara and Anna each occur three times. Catherine occurs twice, and the ones occurring once are Magdalena, Veronica, Elizabeth, and Mary.
The women's names are a shorter list because too many times, the immigrant female's name has been lost completely, with only the first name of one of her descendants several generations down the line remembered. I mourn for these lost women, who no doubt lived as vigorously and well as their husbands, but whom history has forgotten. They show up on my immigrant fan chart as the beginning of a widening fan sector that stays blank all the way to the edge of the chart. No name, regardless how overused or common, deserves that fate.
The Bible speaks of God calling us by name and of Him recording in the Book of Life the name of each person who belongs to Him. Could it be that Hunter and Piper are names as precious to God as Abraham and Sarah--as fit for the Book of Life? Will even names like John and Paul be put aside in heaven in favor of the new name Revelation speaks of for those who live there?
I can't imagine ever being called anything but Miriam or Mrs. I. But I'm sure that if God Himself calls me by another name I will know when He means me. The name He uses will fit me perfectly, and I will find it eternally fascinating.
posted by Mrs. I at
4:48 PM
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