“Life is the flower for which love is the honey.” ~ Victor Hugo.

Many of us put a lot of thought into naming our children.  Whether it is trying to find a name which has family significance, like naming a child after a grandparent, or to honor a culture, we forget what life will be like for the child so named.  My parents made it simple.  For a start, since neither of them had a middle name, they decided they would not give their (five) children middle names either.  After all, who uses a middle name?  But since my father was a Christian Minister, they would use one place as their source: the Bible.

Rachel, Miriam, Deborah, Andrew, all very straightforward.  By the time they came to baby number 5, something happened.  They decided to steer away from the usual girls’ names, and chose ‘Bethany’.  And so all my life I was used to the comments: ‘That’s so unusual!’ Or worse: ‘Did you say Stephanie? Melanie? Beverly?’ By the time I was a young adult, in situations where I was being introduced for the first time, I had given up on the whole name and gave my name simply as ‘Beth’.  Which was a ‘no-no’ for my parents.  Their opinion was we should go by the whole given name.  I’m pretty sure we shortened our middle sister’s name to Deb from early, but everyone else remained with their named name.

But there were family stories linked to my birth and my name.  Since I was born around Christmas-time, my brother (only three at the time) called me his ‘little sister Bethlehem’.  One older sister, no one has confessed to this, asked my parents if one thought of ‘Beth’ and the other thought of ‘Annie’ and so they combined them.  Of course the other story around the time of my birth is a traumatic one.  The Scottish lady who moved in to help with the older kids while my mother was laid up (laid in?) after my birth (a week of bed’s rest was the norm at the time!) prepared porridge (oatmeal) for breakfast the Scottish way, using salt instead of sugar.  My siblings are still scarred! And hold me responsible!

Despite all that, I have enjoyed having my name, and would not choose another.  It is unusual to meet someone else called Bethany, and apart from the time I was introduced and the response was: ‘That’s a damn weird name!’ I mostly get positive comments.  When it came to naming our children, I gave my husband free rein.  Like all conscious people of African descent, his children would have African names, chosen because of their meaning and significance as much as their sound.

But families are complex and dynamic.  This past week has been full of reminders of family, of childhood, of previous weddings as we came together for another wedding.  My brother and his wife came from the UK, and I was reminded of a much earlier visit, when all of our children ranged in age from about ten to about seventeen.  We had just posed for a final family group shot before my brother and his family set off to return home.  Beautiful pose, everyone happy, one big loving family.  Next thing I knew, my kids were inside the house, and my eldest son had his next brother on the ground.  I was distraught? What was going on? We were the loving family of the pose! When I confronted the elder brother, he informed me, ‘Ma, you know him. Sometimes you just gotta check him!’

But weddings are a happy and loving affair.  Despite the stress of preparations, trying to get everything right, trying not to forget anyone or anything, the climax of all that work is a day dedicated to love, to overcoming adversity, to uniting two clans.  And we had such a day.  For me, like for my daughter’s wedding almost twenty years ago, it was an occasion where representatives from all the strands of my textured life came together in one place. As each my children’s weddings were, (so far, one still to go!)  the ceremony itself was set outdoors, embodying the love of nature which I hope I have passed on to my children, and their children.

My children have their own unusual names, which always proves challenging, and this formal occasion was no different.  But as I listened to my friends and new daughter’s sister loudly correcting the Pastor as she mispronounced my son’s name, I was tickled.  And recognized that it is the imperfections that make a ceremony personal, memorable, and perfect.  Through it all the groom (‘quiet warrior’) beamed, unperturbed.  And I was reminded of my parents’ wedding, where (allegedly) the photographer had to ask them to ‘stop grinning!’

Once again it has been strange to imagine loving and lovely occasions taking place in a world where war is waging a few time zones away, war instigated by one state and coopted by a carnage-loving president and his blood-lusting henchmen.  While we were bothered by a few drops of cold precipitation, others are being terrorized by bombs raining down.  As we heard names mispronounced others were hearing cultures and civilizations being threatened into obliteration.  The world has gone mad.

Imagine if this were a test, set by some master puppeteers.  Suppose this is all part of a divine plan, meant to determine whether the human race, the one big family, be permitted to continue to dwell on this planet.  I fear that we have failed, are failing, this test.  There must be better ways, better solutions to our problems.  But when a democracy elects a man who is so driven by ego and lust for money and power, consequences will be damned, and the global population suffers. We are living through this test, and seem to be lacking the older brother to administer the blow, to check the man (or men) who are currently, malevolently, scheming to fill their own coffers while others suffer, and pay the price for their ambitions.

We have learned a lot about the ‘-cracies’  and the ‘archies’ – democracy; meritocracy; oligarchy; but what is most scary was to learn the word ‘kakistocracy’, meaning a government run by the least qualified, most unprincipled, or worst citizens.  This, my friends, I fear is upon us now.  A name which sounds like the Spanish word for crap (to be polite) and that is what we are getting.

On this Friday morning, I know we are better and can do better than this.  I have faith that we have the compassion, the empathy, and the love to find solutions for all of the world’s population, not just those who think they can buy their way to happiness and eternal life.  I have seen (in my small family) how love can unite cultures, races and people, to find our common humanity and celebrate it.  I have learned that when you respect someone’s name, their history, their traditions, you can live together in harmony.  And I thank all of the people who have come into my life for bringing a special reminder of the wonders of this world.

We just need to remember: ‘We are one big family, living in harmony!’

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.