Name Calling

By becoming parents, we sign on for a million and one unique tasks, some exhilarating, others exhausting. One job that’s an early must for every parent is to name the new baby. Although demanding decisions await, this first duty is a pleasure.

Some parents eagerly name their children after others they love, in a gesture of honor and respect. The hope is that the admired one, the one having a character so strong he/she is worthy of a namesake, will develop an influential relationship with the child.

Often baby names are chosen to link one family member with another as a tribute to the older person. This would include a “junior” or a “I, II, or III.”

Other new moms and dads are all about the meanings of names. This was particularly true in biblical days when parents believed children would live up (or down) to their names. The scriptural Jabez, for example, became famous because he sidestepped this principle. His name meant “borne in pain.” In the only Bible reference to this man, he asked God to keep him from causing pain to others.

I remember our Linnea asking us, as a little girl, what her name meant. Sadly, we didn’t have a good answer. She was named Linnea because we had several other Linneas in the family, and we loved this Swedish name. When we looked it up after the fact, we learned it meant “lime tree,” not particularly noteworthy. (We did redeem ourselves somewhat by discovering a tiny pink flower named “Linnea”.)

The only way the name game can be spoiled is if mommy and daddy can’t agree. When this happens, experts say, “Let the father name the baby, because it’ll bond them together. The mother has been bonding for nine months.”

Nate and I dipped into each of the above methods of naming our seven. While growing up, our kids would say we made an effort to choose the weirdest names we could find. Nate and I chose them all from a Swedish calendar because of our shared Scandinavian heritage and knew their names would grow on them, which they did.

Yesterday I received the glorious call from Hans and Katy announcing the double birth of their not-so-little twins in Manchester, England. There is no greater use of a phone than to communicate the news of new life! When they called a second time to reveal the names, it was nearly as great a thrill. By knowing the names, I began to know the grandbabies. A first step was to write “Evelyn” and “Thomas” on my prayer list, scratching out the anonymous “Baby Girl” and “Baby Boy” written there to this date.

When Hans told me Evelyn’s name, he said, “…after the one and only Grandma J,” my mom. Well put. Evelyn’s middle name, Sarah, is after two remarkable women who share it: Katy’s mum and then Katy herself, as a middle name. The first half of little Evelyn’s name means “giver of life,” and the second half means “beautiful.” As the first daughter in a family of three children, she will give a special kind of life to this Nyman household. Her second name describes exactly how: as a “princess”!

Thomas means, appropriately, “twin”, and he is named after two first-rate role models: my brother Tom and Hans himself, as a middle name. The twin’s middle name, Nathan, means “gift of God” and honors Hans’ father, who passed away five months ago. God took… and he gave. All four of these names are rich with significance and will prompt meaningful conversations with the twins in future years.

Nicholas, their not-much- older brother at 15 months, bears a name linked to two uncles, Katy’s brother Nicholas and Hans’ brother Klaus, whose name is derived from the Swedish spelling of Niklaus. And his middle name, Carl, is shared with my dad, the patriarch of our side of the family. By the way, Nicholas means “mighty in battle” and Carl tells why: because he is “the strong one.” With the twins entering little Nick’s world, he’ll need both might and strength!

My prayer for all three children is that they’ll hear God’s tender call. He’s known their names since before time began and loves them with an everlasting love.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!” (Isaiah 43:1)

Babies!

When our firstborn was eight days overdue, mom was worried. She kept looking at my giant belly and saying, “How is that baby going to safely get out of there?”

Nelson came out just fine, weighing ten chubby pounds. Back then (1973), a mother wasn’t allowed to touch her newly born baby until he’d visited the nursery for identifying, scrubbing and a proper swaddling. After I’d been wheeled from delivery to my regular room, I sat in bed watching the clock, waiting for my first baby visit. Resting my head back and closing my eyes, I heard soft crying. When I peeked, there stood mom at the end of my bed in her hat and coat, looking at me and weeping.

I said, “Why are you crying?”

“I was so worried it wouldn’t all work out,” she said, “and I’m just so glad it did!”

Today I’m the grandma, and it was my turn to worry. Our son Hans and his wife Katy, living in England, were scheduled to have their twins induced today at 9:00 AM as she entered her 40th week of pregnancy. Last night Katy’s email described how she’d been praying she’d go into labor on her own, hoping the babies would come naturally. If not, the doctor would proceed with the induction. It was show time.

How well I remember the day Nate and I learned of these twins. We knew Katy was three months along with a baby when Hans’ call came through to our minivan as we headed for home after a radiation treatment. “How did the ultrasound go today?” I asked.

“Everything was fine,” he said, “except they found a little surprise.”

My mind had already raced through all the negative possibilities by the time he said, “There’s not just one baby in there, but two!”

I squealed with glee and announced the news around the car. After a day of negatives in terms of Nate’s health deterioration, God had chosen, at that moment, to bless with abundance.

The months passed, and today we arrived at the pregnancy’s grand finale, the birth of the twins. I received a text mid-morning from Hans. Katy had indeed gone into labor on her own at 5:00 AM, just hours before the scheduled induction, and was, at that moment, in the thick of it. Instantly I was following mom’s lead and flipping on the worry-switch!

What if there were complications? So many things could go wrong! What would it do to Hans, Katy and the rest of us if the babies didn’t arrive safe and sound? I became a knotted bundle of nerves until the Lord reminded me he would handle the births just fine without my assistance.

Instead of worrying, I  started a time of concentrated prayer, always an effective antidote to my fears. Only a few hours passed before Hans and Katy were on the phone sharing details of the successful natural births and two healthy little Nymans, Evelyn Sarah and Thomas Nathan. Each of the four names honors a different family member, and I like to think that mom (Evelyn) and Nate are as aware of this as Sarah (Katy ‘s mom) and Thomas (my brother) are. It’s remarkable that Nate has had two grandsons named after him in ten weeks time, a joy to my heart.

As Hans and Katy study the faces, fingers and toes of these little ones and marvel at God’s impressive work, the rest of us will eagerly await photos and bits of news about their first days “in the pink.” I’ve apologized to the Lord for worrying so much and not trusting his judgment over mine, and next time, things will be different… won’t they?

“Your Father already knows your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need.” (Luke 12:30b-31)

Bad habits must die.

Today I did something I said I’d never do again, but an old habit got in the way of my new resolve. I picked up a packet… no… a box-full of hard-copy photos from the store. I’m embarrassed to say I now have 307 new prints to put into albums.

An old Chinese proverb says, “Habits are cobwebs at first, cables at last.” As the wildlife in our basement continues to benefit from cobwebbing our 196 photo albums, I’m upstairs shackling myself with a cable that just wrapped around me 307 times. Now I have the substantial undertaking of putting these prints in books that I haven’t even bought yet. Worst of all, it’ll put us over the 200-album mark, a dubious honor.

What could possibly be the reason for such idiocy? I do have one. It’s the tiny but potent memory card inside my digital camera. Because I can delete any photo, I click with abandon, which is what brought me up against three maxed-out cards that needed clearing. The thought of losing even one good shot nagged me until I finally decided to make 4×6 copies to have and to hold… as is my habit.

After deleting two-thirds of each memory card while seated in front of a store kiosk, I walked out of Walgreens feeling as though I’d gone on a diet and lost 20 pounds, despite gaining 307 photos. But a low moment awaited: clearing the memory cards. Pushing that “Delete All” button was more traumatic than pushing the button to launch a nuclear attack. It meant forever! What if I’d missed printing even one good picture?

My kids have pressed me to give up hard copies entirely, and I promised I would… next time. Today I concluded that my unstoppable photo collecting can continue just a little longer. How can I ignore the cry of my basement albums? “You’ve loved us for so long! You can’t stop now!”

Has this become a bad habit? Well if it is, it’s completely harmless.

But are there any completely harmless bad habits?

My 307 pictures got me thinking. How many other bad habits do I have that haven’t been classified as such? What other negative behaviors far more serious than album-collecting ought to be stopped? Every bad habit has something tantalizing within it. We can’t lick it because we like it. It feeds us somehow, gratifies something, gives back in some way. If it didn’t, we could walk away.

Experts tell us the best way to get rid of an undesirable habit is to substitute a desirable one. But since there’s already something captivatingly desirable nestled within every bad habit, finding an even more desirable substitute can be problematic and is one of life’s greatest challenges.

If I could just figure out how to conquer my album-addiction, maybe I could triumph over other bad habits, say, my love affair with sugar. How could there ever be anything more desirable than sugar? For now, I’m just trying to think of something more appealing than stockpiling photos in the basement. After watching Louisa reorganize her computer pictures for several hours straight, keeping computer albums doesn’t seem all that desirable. Talk about time-intensive!

Dusting the cobwebs off my basement albums can be done in three minutes flat. If I’m eating candy, in two.

”For as he thinks within himself, so he is.” (Proverbs 23:7a)