Tag Archives: service

Naming your baby

Seeing as Boris Johnson is about to contest the Conservative Leadership, perhaps it’s only fitting that his name  means “to fight”. He will definitely have a fight on his hands to even win the party leadership but that will pale into insignificance if he becomes Prime Minister and has to attempt to unite both the country and his party as well as negotiating a decent exit from the EU.

I have no idea whether Mr and Mrs Johnson even knew what Boris meant when they named their baby but would it have been important to them if they had? Does it even matter what we are called as long as we’re not called late for dinner?

Genuine, bold and brave?

When Megan and Harry settled on Archie for their baby son, there was a mixed reaction. Even on Facebook I noticed some people protesting that, although it was a decent enough name for a “normal” child, it just wouldn’t do for a member of Royalty.  As it happens Archie means genuine, bold or brave so it would be fitting if the new addition to the Mountbatten-Windsor household could live up to that billing.  It would be even better if Boris could!

Without stating the obvious, our names are vitally important to us. It is one of the few constants that we have throughout our lives. We answer to that name, we live up to that name. Our name is our brand and our identity and it’s important to us that people remember it and use it properly.

Why did Richard become Dick?

One common annoyance is people assuming that others are happy to have their name shortened or lengthened. When you think about it, it’s the height of rudeness and arrogance to assume that an Alison wants to be called Ally or a Benjamin is happy to be reduced to Ben. Those two short forms might be fairly obvious but have you ever wondered why Richard became Dick or Williams were known as Bill?

It’s a simple case of the age old habit of choosing rhyming words. Richard was short for Rick which rhymed with Dick. William was Will or Willy which became Bill or Billy.  I suppose Billy was preferable to Willy but I’m not so sure whether Rick was happy to become Dick.

Equally frustrating is the habit some people have of lengthening your name or deciding to call you by, what they consider, your proper moniker before promptly choosing the wrong option. For the record, I’m a Joanne and not Joanna or Josephine but actually Jo suits me just fine thank you very much.

Don’t call me Fiona

I have a friend who has recently chosen to change her name. She was a Theresa and known by all and sundry (whoever sundry are) as Tess. However, she’s recently converted herself to Claire as she feels that it fits her better. I might have done the same had my mum got her own way and managed to christen me Fiona. I don’t look at all like a Fiona and, even though I didn’t know it at the time, had great cause to be grateful for my dad’s intervention.

The only reason I know what Fionas look like is because of the blonde, petit and feminine Fiona I knew at school. On reflection, I’ve known plenty of fuller figured, frumpy, pinafore-dress wearing  Fionas but to me the name will always be synonymous with the first Fiona I ever knew. And that’s where your name becomes your brand. We associate particular names with certain people and then almost judge them accordingly.

Welcome to the House of God

Traditionally the naming of a child was a community led affair where the whole village or tribe turned out to welcome the new addition to their clan. With Christianity came the ritual of christening a child, or welcoming him or her into the house of God.

I can still remember feeling very overwhelmed when some good friends asked me to be a Godmother to their little boy. However, I soon felt rather underwhelmed when what should have been a precious and personal service instead became nothing more than over a dozen babies and thirty or forty associated Godparents being rounded up for a mass christening. I recall a similar situation when my nephew was christened although in his case all six babies baptized that day during the normal Sunday service were called Matthew!

Baby naming ceremonies

In recent years Baby Naming or Welcoming services have gained some popularity for those who are not church goers or who would like a more bespoke service. These services can take place in the venue of your choice and even in your own garden should you have the space and feel confident enough about the weather.

As a qualified civil celebrant, I am able to conduct a totally personal service for you and your child or children. You can choose God Parents or Supporting Adults who might make a pledge or say a few words about their responsibilities. The celebrant would create a script which will reflect your views on parenthood and culminate in the naming of the baby.

A day to treasure

While the traditional definition of a nuclear family still exists there are so many more alternatives these days, but one thing remains constant. The birth of a new child or the arrival of an adopted child into a family, is something to be celebrated and treasured. Why not choose to do this by gathering together those closest to you and honouring their birth and their name with a service that reflects just how important they are?

For more information on Baby Naming and Welcoming Ceremonies please see my website at www.silverfernceremonies.co.uk

 

 

 

Funeral for a Mum

Today it is my sad honour to conduct the funeral of the mother of a good friend of mine.  Although all mum’s are different, it is often the same words that are repeated. Loving, giving, resilient, a shoulder to cry on… We can take these things for granted and then, one day, we are no longer granted that luxury.

I dreamt about my own mum last night. It is not uncommon. She lived in a treehouse and I went to visit her. It was strangely vivid, just like my mum was. So, in honour of my own mum, around the third anniversary of her final goodbye and, in honour of Diane and her lovely family and her mum who “had a smile that could light up a room”, I have dug out the eulogy I presented on that day in April 2016.

If you knew my mum I hope this will bring back memories. If you didn’t then perhaps it will make you feel as though you did.

Larger than Life!

“My mum was often larger than life.

And she was always larger than my dad.

One of the many things Reverend Steer told us  was that today needed to be all about mum. It had to be everything she would want. What she didn’t want was people laughing at her funeral. She wanted mourning not mirth. And now I’ve gone and made you laugh.

I’m not going to apologise for that. You see, the way I look at it, we have two choices. We can choose to be sad that she is gone or we can choose to be happy that she was here. I am planning to choose the second option and I hope you will choose to join me.

I did have some problems when I started writing this tribute. It wasn’t that I didn’t have enough material, there was plenty of that, it was something far more practical. I wasn’t sure what terminology to use. You see, although she was mum to Stuart, Peter and me, she was a wife to my dad, a nanny to Matt and Nathan, a mother-in-law to Jenny, Tracy and Allison, a sister to Ern, a sister-in-law to some of you, an aunt to many of you and a friend to all of you. I then figured that it wouldn’t matter what I called her as the words I used could only be describing one person.

Don’t die a copy…

One of mum’s favourite sayings – and she had quite a few – was “you were born an original, make sure you don’t die a copy”. She certainly didn’t do that.

Mum was born in 1938 which made her 77 when she died. This isn’t old. Not by today’s standards, but she fitted a huge amount of happiness, warmth and love into those decades and, I truly believe, that when she felt unable and too unwell to be the force of nature that she had always been, then she was ready to leave us. If she couldn’t be centre stage any more then she certainly wasn’t going to be the supporting act. Mum, as you will know, always did things on her terms.

I don’t want to make this into a chronological trawl through her life. I don’t want to point out milestones and timelines for offices, shops and factories where she worked or houses and places that she lived. These are just things people do. It’s what people are that really matters and that’s what I want to focus on and remember today.

Mum was contrary, caring and kind.

She could also be feisty, particularly in her younger days. Although she once told me that she wouldn’t have to argue if only people would just agree with her in the first place…

She had so much charisma that, as a shy child and an even shyer teenager, I would watch her with awe and admiration in the faint hope that some of it might spill over onto me.

She was the type of person who could radiate energy and warmth and people would respond to this and gravitate towards her. Possibly without even knowing why they were doing so. She loved people who made her laugh and she made other people laugh. Especially if she thought it would make them feel better.

“but will I be able to swim?”

For most women a mastectomy would be pretty devastating and the surgeon was probably feeling nervous about breaking the news of the radical operation to his patient. He needn’t have worried. Rather than all the normal questions a worried cancer sufferer might ask, mum simply said “but will I be able to swim?” Of course you’ll be able to swim Mrs Terry, he gratefully reassured her. “That’s good” she said “because I couldn’t swim before”.

Funnily enough she finally learnt to swim when she was well into her sixties. If mum wanted to do something then she would do it. And if she didn’t then she wouldn’t. It was as simple as that.

Mum was never the type of person to utter the words “I don’t know” or “I don’t mind”. She always knew her own mind. And things were very black and white.

She didn’t like watching the news. She thought pansies were a waste of garden. She would never wear beige. And, for some reason, she took against Zoe Ball and Gloria Hunniford.

There were a lot of things she didn’t like but plenty of things that she loved.

She loved to dream; she loved films, parties, dancing, Christmas, music, her friends, her children, long conversations, holidays. My dad.

I need to talk about her relationship with my dad because it was the foundation that her life was built upon. This would have been the sixtieth year they had spent together and, like all couples, there were ups and downs. Sickness and health. Poverty and wealth. I’m not disputing that there might have been the odd argument or disagreement. You might have heard some of them… But when the chips were down they stuck together and one of the things I admired so much about them both was their resilience and optimism. My mum had no room for regrets or self-doubt. You always had to make the best of what you had and she always did.

Dad wore the trousers. Mum told him which ones to wear…

Where their relationship and our family were concerned though, my dad always wore the trousers. It was just that my mum always told him which ones to wear.

My mum also loved London and was intensely proud of being a Londoner. Nonetheless they moved to Thetford in 1963 in order to make a better future for their young family and, although she was horribly homesick for a long time, she did what she always did and made the very best of life. Making some lifelong friends and creating some very special memories for us all.

In fact it was to Thetford that I brought some of my Army friends back in 1982. I had forgotten all about it but lots of people have been in touch over these past few weeks with their kind words and memories and one of them told me that she always remembers the first time she met my mum. In her vivid recollection the room was full of light from the recently installed patio doors and mum was wearing a brightly coloured dress. She had made cakes and prepared more food than any of us could possible eat. And she was laughing. I remember thinking, said my friend, what a lovely, happy childhood you must have had. She was right. We did.

It was difficult choosing a piece of music for this occasion. Mum loved all types of music and it was hard to pinpoint one particular song to identify with her. She loved Frank Sinatra and Johnnie Ray. She liked Motown and Abba, rock ‘n’ roll and country. She liked music she could dance to and she even liked the sound of my dad crooning in the bath. However, after much discussion, we chose You Light Up My Life because that was what she said that we did to her and it was definitely what she did for us.

I hope, as you listen to this, you will be filled with the personal happy memories that you have and I hope that we can all take comfort in the happiness she brought to us. Her personal light will never diminish in our memories.”