We had some friends come over yesterday and hang out with us for most of the day. Al is already a member of New Tribes Mission and his wife, Girlie, is a fellow student with us down in Missouri. Girlie is Filipino, and since that is where we got the name for our daughter from, we asked her if she had ever heard the name Anarazell before.
She told us somthing interesting. Most children in the Philippines are named after someone in the family, usually the parents. Even Girlie got her name by getting the "G" from one parent and the "lie" from another. She had no idea that there was anything different about her name until she came to the States for the first time, and found out the "girlie" means something here.
So the original Anarazell probably got the "Ana" from her mom and "razell" from some other relative.
This was a fun bit of info to find out, because we were naming her for a family member as well.
Isabella's middle name is Lynn, after Jen and Patty's, (Jen's mom) middle names. My middle name is Andrew after my mom's Ann. So before we had picked a name out yet, I was trying to find a name that we could make the middle name "Ann" or have the "Ann" sound somewhere in it. So when Jen wanted Anarazell, it fit perfect.
We picked a Filipino name and we were cultural about it, and we didn't even know it! I find that pretty cool!
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4 comments:
I asked the couple who take care of my dad, they are from the Philipines also, about the name and the wife told me that most names are from the Bible-Anna and the razell would be from Rose or a flower of some sort. It is a very pretty name, thniking of you, love denise
I hope that you have a very Merry CHRISTmas...and I pray that the Lord would intimately heal you both in the coming year.
Hi Justin and Jennifer,
I'm a friend of the Mannings, mom of a recent NTBI grad (Waukesha)...and I am praying for you.
I've been meaning to send this story. I hope it's not too long, but it just seems so appropriate with Christmas around the corner.
May the joy of the Lord be your strength.
Julie
THE DIME STORE ANGEL
By Barbara Estelle Shepherd
(found in a old Guideposts book of Christmas stories.)
When our twin daughters were toddlers and Scotty was still a baby, my husband, dick, and I dug into our meager Christmas fund to buy a dime store angel for the top of our tree. Esthetically, she was no prize: the plastic wings were lopsided, the gaudy robes painted haphazardly, the reds splashing over into the blues and purples. At night, though, she underwent a mysterious change—the light glowing from inside her robes softened the colors and her golden hair shone with the aura of a halo.
For six years she had the place of honor at the top of our tree. For six years, as in most families, Christmas was a time to be especially grateful for the wonderful gifts of God.
And then, in the seventh year, as summer enfolded us in her warm lethargy, I became aware of a new life gently stirring beneath my heart. Of all of God’s gifts, the seemed the culmination, for we had long prayed for another child. I came home from the doctor’s office and plunged straight into plants for a mood-setting dinner.
That evening when Dick walked in, the candles flickered on the table and the children took their places, self-conscious in Sunday clothes, “when it’s just Wednesday!”
“Oh-oh,” he grinned, “Mother’s up to something—one of those special dinners again.” I smiled and waited until halfway though the meal to make the announcement. But I got no further than the first informative sentence.
“You mean we’re gonna have a baby?” squealed Miriam. Milk overturned and chairs clattered. Doors slammed as Dick and I were alone with our happiness while our three small Paul Reveres galloped wildly over the neighborhood shouting their news to everyone within lung distance.
Summer and fall sped by as we turned the spare room into a nursery and scraped and repainted baby furniture. December came again; once more we were on the verge of Christmas. Then one morning, eight weeks too soon for our new nursery to be occupied, I was rushed to the hospital.
Shortly past noon our four-pound son was born. Still groggy from the anesthetic, I was wheeled—bed and all—into the nursery to view Kirk Steven though an incubator porthole. Dick silently squeezed my hand while we absorbed the doctor’s account of the dangers Kick would have to overcome in order to survive. Added to his prematurity was the urgency for a complete blood exchange to offset RH problems.
All that long afternoon Dick and I prayed desperately that our son’s life would be spared. It was evening when I awoke from an uneasy doze to find our minister standing by the bed. No word was spoken, but as he clasped my hand, I knew. Our little boy had lived less than 12 hours.
During the rest of that week in the hospital, grief and disbelief swept over me by turn. At last Dick came to take me home. He loaded my arms with a huge bouquet of red roses, but flowers can never fill that ache to hold a baby.
In the street outside I was astonished to see signs of Christmas everywhere: the decorated stores, the hurrying shoppers, the lights strung from every lamppost. I had forgotten the season. For the sake of the children at home, we agreed, we would go through the motions. But it would be no more than that.
And so a few days later Dick bought a tree and mechanically I joined him and the children in draping tinsel and hanging glass balls from the branches. Last of all, on the very top, went the forlorn dime store angel. The Dick flipped the switch and again she was beautiful. Scotty gazed upward for a moment, then said softly, “Daddy, this year we have a real angel, don’t we? The one God gave us?”
And Dick and I, in our poverty, were going to give Christmas to our children—forgetting that it is always we who receive it from them! For, of course, God was the reality in tragedy as He had been in our joys, the unchanging Joy at the heart of all things. Scotty’s words to me were like the light streaming now from the plastic angel, transforming what was poor and ugly on the surface into glory.
It's a very unique and pretty name. I like it, and now knowing that background, it's even prettier.
thinking of you
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