Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Happy Thanksgiving

Just a quick note to let my family know that I am thinking of you and missing you. I am headed up to Mom's for a few days of rest and work on the farm. It'll be nice to be out of Fayetteville. I hope that your Thanksgiving is fun, rewarding, and fills you with grattitude.

As for the verse below, I don't often understand how I can be thankful for all things all the time. But God has a better view of the world and my future than I do. Thank God too. Till later, God bless and keep you.

Love,
Brad

"In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

Sunday, November 12, 2006

What's in a name?



So the saga continues. First off, I did not mean to confuse my beloved sister into thinking that she misunderstood my middle name for the last 30 years. Admittedly she mainly heard it when I was in trouble with Mom (you know how it goes, once you hear first, middle, and last name ... you are in big trouble.) I was just being evasive with giving my actual middle name and test driving this relative's name for a new middle name.

But I finally got around to calling my mom (Call your mother, she wants to hear from you). Sure enough, she says she doesn't know what Dad is talking about. She doesn't remember naming me after this person, she got the name out of a baby book (so that's where I heard that part of the story). She sounded surprised that I was disappointed at not being named for Dearing (according to her side of the story), as though I would have preferred my name having been chosen from a name book. Of course not everyone has the skepticism that I have about those name books purportedly giving meaning to names ("according to who" is what I always ask). Having learned a little of a few foreign languages, I have learned that many names don't mean what people say they mean (ex. I am not naming any of my kids "Damon" no matter what the books say (my apologies to those already bearing that name, it's nothing personal against you. It's just that your name would be translated from Greek as "demon" or "devil". It meant something a little different before the Septuagint but too late for that)). For example, according to one of those books, Darin meant something like "marshy place" (I not like my middle name, I don't understand). I think if you took it apart and translated it, the first part would mean "realm" in Arabic, and "spring" in Hebrew (both Semitic languages), which may explain the swampy roots in that one name book. Other "sources" have had other meanings for it, mostly vague or lame. But having my much maligned middle name actually have some significance beyond an indicator of trouble (see first paragraph) was inspiring. There is something to be said for being a bearer of history, even family history, within one's name.

As for reconciling the two very divergent versions of the story behind my name, I will use my imagination. Dad heard the name or saw the name in the book and thought of his mother's cousin (consciously or subconsciously) and thus like the name. He recommended it to Mom without explanation or liked it when Mom suggested it to him (whatever the case may be), because of this connection. Either he never shared this thought with her or she forgot (she never knew this relative - he died before she was born). Thus, many years (and a divorce) later I hear about it from one parent but not the other. Apparently, I like the history behind the name and will gladly claim my part of the legacy. I have other legacies that I have adopted from family history, so I feel free to do it again here.














So what did I do this weekend? A little camping, backpacking, and caving around Coyote Bluff at Devil's Den. And I helped park 130+ cars for the Arkansas - Tennessee football game (Go Hogs Go!). One of the other guys helping park cars is in AFROTC, hence the shirt/jacket picture while he was grilling burgers. The bottom pair of pictures is of only the front yard (notice the red-leaved maple tree), the backyard is even larger, though without having cars blocked in. And lastly, Kramer enjoys a bone while our blowup Razorback (a gift, we're too cheap to buy one) shows some spirit in front of the sign to our student ministry.



















"She will bear a son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins." ... "Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call His name Immanuel (which means, God with us)." (Matthew 1:21,23)

Monday, November 06, 2006

A revelation



I found out yesterday (err, Sunday. Since I haven't slept yet, it is still Monday even though the calendar insists it is Tuesday. I digress) that I was named for somebody. I knew that I was almost named for my Granddad, but since he loathed his given names he refused to let my parents put that name on me. But Dad told me yesterday that my middle name is from a cousin of Grandma's who died in the Pacific theatre of World War II.

I am named for someone even though our names are not actually spelled alike. Dearing (pronounced "Daring" by Grandma) Pritchard had volunteered in the army even before Pearl Harbor and died in a POW camp after the fall of the Philippines. There is a page devoted to him in the family history book (he is a son of Harv if you are wanting to look him up).

The astounding part is that I didn't know this (or had completely forgotten). I just assumed that both of my given names were from the baby book or something. No idea that there was a family connection until Dad mentioned it while we were talking about something else, perhaps onhow my middle name was spelled (I don't remember how we got on the subject). Dad said that he had to guess about the spelling on Dearing's name, thus the difference between his and my name.

I now have new respect for my middle name. I had started a rumor more than once that my middle name was something else (something that sounded more believable coming from Arkansas. The trick of a good lie is how close to the truth it can be and still be believable. Not that I wanted to sound more like I was from Arkansas, just that I could not avoid that connection, having Arkansas license plates. Not that I make it a practice to lie. I just didn't want people to know my middle name who would then want to say it all the time, so I purposefully let them guess wrong and say it was correct, then when they proved my suspicion correct that they were going to use it all the time, I would tell them that it was not my true middle name, making them feel even more foolish and giving them no grounds to argue that I should tell them my actual middle name when they had already proved that they could not be trusted to stay quiet about it. One of them insisted on using my phony middle name anyways because she liked calling me by first and middle, and a wrong middle name was better than none at all). But now I have reason to be proud of my middle name, it means more to me now. Thanks Dad for sharing that history. Thanks Dearing for representing our country and family well.

God bless,

Bradley Dearing (don't look too bad, does it?)