Tamara, meaning Palm tree, so fitting. Do you ever stop to think if your name fits you? My brothers’ names all point to a specific and special someone, but Tamara? ~not so much. I’ve asked my parents before how they came up with my name, and the answer never sways, “We just liked it.”
Conversely, after years of teaching and droves of young people under our various youth ministry opportunities, and five brothers (all complete with middle names, to boot), my husband and I lamented over our boys’ names. Girls’ names were flying off our tongues right onto our ‘consider list,’ but it took what seemed to be forever (oh, life without the internet!) for us to agree on a boy’s name. Baby names were proving difficult for agreement. Finally, when we got to “Mitchell” for our firstborn, we knew “one like God” would be our choice. Pop, my father-in-law and Mitchel’s wonderful grandpa, did have a wee-bit of a say in its spelling. He pointed out we didn’t want our son’s name to end with h-e-double l, as he put it, so Mitchel (one L, as we say often) is who he is, and it’s the perfect fit for our son. Ten years went by before we were given the opportunity to name another child of our own. Again, and again unneccesarioly, a girl’s name was easy agreement. The first ultrasound when we were told pink was “most likely” in order, gave some excitement and reason to try out, albeit privately and quietly, a would (never) be daughter’s name. Perfect. Well, perfect until the next ultrasound where any visions of pink were rushed right out of that room and our hearts…my heart, Daddy was thrilled with another boy! So, back to the store with the loads of clearance girly outfits, hats and accessories we went, and back to the baby name book, too. Another “M” name was agreed on, Maxwell-we’d call him, Max. A couple of weeks before our baby’s birth, I printed out name tags to put on blue tulled wrapped Hershey Kisses: Maxwell William and blanks for height and weight to be filled in. They were beautiful! Unfortunately, Pop was no longer with us. I think he would have been ok with double-L at the end of Maxwell’s name. My mother-in-law, however, was with us~and I mean that literally, too. She’d moved in after Pop passed away. She knew the other name we had pondered quite deliberately was Nicholas. Nicholas was my husband’s maternal grandfather’s name, and, well, Ma was a little bias toward that name. Earlier in my pregnancy, I was talking with my baby one evening in the tub. I can easily recall asking him, “What is your name, baby boy? Is it Maxwell? (stillness, but who doesn’t like to relax in a warm tub?) Or, is it Nicholas? And in true Nicholas form, a celebration ruptured in my womb. At that moment, I knew Nicholas was with me. Still, Max was in the works, and that was all fine with me. Until it wasn’t. Sharing the first baby favor with Ma was the mistake that really wasn’t. Soon we heard her rambling on, “Maxi, Maxxxxi, Maxi-Pad, Maxi…” And on and on this went. Of course I was fuming a bit. Maxi pad? Really? THIS is how you’re going to make your plea for Nicholas? Nicholas-victor of the people, and so it was, has been and (hopefully-he does have days he announces a name change!) always well be, Nicholas. We were diligent in picking names for our sons that would be fitting to who the Lord created them to be. Psalm 139 writes a beautiful account of the Lord knowing us before we were conceived, and loving us. Fearfully and wonderfully made.
I wasn’t there when I was named, but there could not be a single name more perfect for me than Palm Trees. There’s no place I’d rather be than a beach where I can sit amongst the Palm Trees and just be. My brother asked me just the other day why I drove all the way to SC to go to the beach. My answer? I want to see Palm trees. I’m Tamara, you could call me Palm Trees if you’d like. <3
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