Handing Down Names

My parents named me Andrea Gabriela. My father’s name was Andreas, so my first name is after him. My middle name is for his aunt, who was a Benedictine nun, Sister Gabriela. Those names were significant for my parents. My brother got his name, William Francis, from his grandfathers. Mom’s father’s name was Wilhelm, and Dad’s father was Xaver Franz.

People usually name their children with names that they like very much, or that have a particular meaning for them. My husband Greg and his brother Peter both have middle names from their father, Wilfred Ernest. (Peter is Peter Wilfred, Greg is Gregory Ernest.)

We continued the tradition with naming our children. Our oldest daughter is Carly Anne, partly because we liked the music of Carly Simon, but we also liked the name. Anne just seemed to go well with it.

I wanted to name our son Matthew after a song by John Denver which I particularly loved. We gave him the middle name Gregory after his father.

We named our middle daughter Erin because the name caught our fancy. There were three Erins on television at the time: in the series MASH, Erin was the baby daughter back home of the Army field surgeon character B.J. Honeycutt, and he talked so longingly about wanting to go home to meet her; in The Waltons, one of the girls in the Walton family was named Erin; and the actress Erin Moran played Joanie Cunningham in Happy Days. We gave our Erin the middle name Gabriela after Sister Gabriela and me.

Our son Andrew Wilfred was named after both his grandfathers.

And our youngest daughter was named Katherine because we love the name Katie. We also gave her Greg’s mom’s middle name, Cecelia, which has special meaning for me, because Saint Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians.

Our daughters have continued the tradition with their own children. Erin and her husband, Dave, named the first of their twin daughters Robin Magdalena, after Dave’s mother and my mother. The second girl is named Henrietta Lyn, after Dave’s beloved “uncle” and grandmother.

Katie’s daughter is named Lily Gabriela, because she and her husband, Michael, really liked the name Lily, and Gabriela after me and Erin.

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Quote of the Day

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Wordless Wednesday: Prickly Pear

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Scripture Break #77

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Three Book Reviews

God’s Little Devotional Journal for Women from Honor Books.

Greg gave me this devotional book about twenty years ago, but I never got around to reading it until 2022, and that year I read it on a daily basis as part of my quiet time. For each day’s entry, there’s a scripture verse, a short passage that illustrates the verse, an inspirational quote, a personal question related to applying the scripture, and an area devoted to writing your answer. I never journaled in it, because I expected not to like the book. I thought I would read it once and then give it away. I assumed it would be similar to other devotional books, and it was. Also, I was miffed that the publisher did not credit the writers of the devotions.

To my delight, the daily readings were occasionally very profound and impactful. Some days it was very hard for me not to write down my thoughts in the journal sections. At the end of the year, I found I couldn’t part with the book. It was a good enough experience that I plan to reread it another year. I may actually use it as a spiritual journal, and it might never be given away.

Bright Evening Star: Mystery of the Incarnation by Madeleine L’Engle.

My Bible study group read this book during Advent 2022, finishing it in early 2023. In her foreword to the book, Addie Zierman recalls a caveat her college writing instructor, Judy Hougen, gave her class about L’Engle’s book Walking on Water:

“Sometimes Madeleine writes things that are a little . . . out there. Just say to yourself, Ha, ha. Oh, that Madeleine, and keep reading.” She said Oh, that Madeleine endearingly, as though talking about a wacky but lovable aunt who has visions of glory and also, occasionally, food on her chin.

Hougen’s advice works well while reading Bright Evening Star, also. You might not understand what she’s saying sometimes, but keep reading. The insights will be worth it.

My two takeaways from the book:

  • The Christian faith is full of mystery. It’s okay if you don’t understand parts of it. That’s the point—embracing the unknowable. L’Engle says she had to “let go all my prejudices and demands for proof and open myself to the wonder of love.”
  • God, the all-powerful, gives away His power. He allows humans free will when He could easily just control them. L’Engle calls it a magnificent paradox: “God’s loving plan for Creation will ultimately be fulfilled, God’s will and ours working together.”

At the end of the book is a reader’s guide with discussion questions.

Ferocity Summer by Alissa Grosso.

I can’t remember when or how I stumbled across artist and author Alissa Grosso on the internet, but I enjoyed her work so much that I bought her book Up the Creek and liked it. I eventually signed up for her newsletter and recently entered a drawing for four of her Young Adult books—and won! Ferocity Summer is the first book of the bundle that I’ve read.

At first, I didn’t like the characters at all and had no sympathy for them. I don’t like it when teenaged characters engage in self-destructive behaviors like drinking, using drugs, and having casual sex. I think it gives kids ideas that everybody’s doing it. I know teenagers try things out, but not every kid does it, or does as much of it as these kids do.

The main characters are high school juniors Scilla and her best friend, Willow. Willow has a brother, Randy. These three hang out together and get themselves into trouble. In the opening chapters, they mention August, and you get the impression that something distasteful is going to happen in August. The story is told from Scilla’s point of view.

I’ve never been acquainted with the drug scene, so I’m not sure if ferocity was ever a real drug or if Grosso dreamed it up for this story, but it plays a major role.

Scilla is failing history, and her guidance counselor recommends she talk to her teacher for suggestions on how she could raise her grade. He challenges her to tell him the most fascinating thing they studied in history that year, and she comes up with Sherman’s March to the Sea. So the teacher assigns her the task of researching Sherman and figuring out “How could a man who had once issued orders against any looting by soldiers suddenly turn around and completely ransack the South?. . . find out what makes him tick and hand me a report in September.” Scilla takes the assignment to heart, and Grosso skillfully weaves Sherman’s story with Scilla’s.

It wasn’t until it’s revealed that the event in August is a trial to determine if the friends are guilty of killing someone that I began to care about the characters. How could such a thing happen?

There are more complications as well. An FBI agent approaches Scilla and pressures her to help him incriminate a drug dealer. That’s as much as I am giving away.

This is not a pretty story, but I found myself rooting for Scilla and compelled to read to the end.

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Video of the Day: Marimba!

Wonderful contrasts in dynamics.

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Video of the Day: How the Beautiful People Live

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Wordless Wednesday: Cacti

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Things that Make Me Happy

In no particular order:

  • Hearing a baby laugh.
  • A letter or card from an old friend.
  • Hearing a child conversing politely with an adult.
  • Clean floors.
  • Clean clothes. I actually enjoy hanging and putting away clean clothes.
  • A clean car. When my car is shiny clean, I feel rich.
  • My children and grandchildren dropping by for a visit.
  • A vase of flowers. Especially if they smell nice.
  • Beautiful music. Any kind-jazz, pop, classical, bluegrass . . . On the radio, on CD, but especially live. Even at church.
  • Being out in nature.
  • Going to the beach.
  • Handmade quilts.
  • Kids. I miss teaching. (To clarify, I miss the kids, not the relentless paperwork and politics of teaching. Being with kids and seeing their faces light up when they suddenly understand something is so satisfying and joyful. Plus, they are funny, entertaining, and endlessly interesting.)
  • Seeing things that people have made. Whether it’s artwork, furniture, clothing, inventions-people’s creativity awes me.
  • Savoring food. Really tasting it. Assuming it’s not junk food. (Although, I admit I find a lot of junk food tasty as well.) The food doesn’t even have to be fancy. Fresh produce is great! My happiest food is probably vanilla ice cream with crushed raspberries.
  • Water when I’m thirsty.
  • Beautiful buildings. I’m a sucker for pretty churches and art deco office towers.
  • Memories. Although some memories make me sad. Especially when I’m missing people who have passed on.
  • A good book.
  • A poem with perfect rhyme and rhythm.
  • Finding something that was lost.
  • Fixing something that was broken.
  • A good movie.
  • Getting together with friends.
  • Looking at people’s vacation photos. Is that weird? I wish I could travel.
  • Getting to hug and kiss my grandbabies.
  • Finishing a puzzle.
  • Antiques.
  • Heirlooms.
  • My family.
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Lost in a Good Book

When I’m under the influence of a well-written book, nothing else exists. I’d gladly give up eating, sleeping, and taking care of my family if I could just stay under the spell of the magical words.

When I was about seven years old, I borrowed a book from the library ( I wish I could remember the name of that book) that captured my interest like nothing before it. It was about a girl who lived in a small town near a river (I lived in a small town near a river!), and the descriptions of the setting and the characterization of the girl were so vivid that I believed I had met her during my wanderings around my town. When I finished the book, I told my mother I was going to go look for the girl, because I wanted to be friends with her. My mother nodded and said, “Okay,” probably happy that I was going outside. (It was a different time; the kids in my neighborhood often left the house in the morning and went exploring all day with our mothers’ blessings.)

After a couple of hours of searching, I realized that, as real as the girl seemed, she was a character in a story. The book had undoubtedly been written years earlier, so even if she had been an actual person, she would be a teen or even a grownup by now. And she could have lived by a different river in a different state. I trudged home, disappointed that I couldn’t enter into the story; it was over.

Wonder by R.J. Palacio; My Name is Barbra, by Barbra Streisand; Station 11 by Emily St. John Mandel. These are all books that made me lose track of time. When I was forced to do some other urgent thing, all I could think about was how soon could I get back to my book. I was addicted. I wanted to abide in the worlds of the stories, to know the characters more deeply, to ponder what I might have done in their shoes. Turning the last page was almost painful, a loss. I wanted more.

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