According to Wikipedia (which is, of
course, never wrong, lol), “Anne,
alternatively spelled Ane or
Ann, is a form of the Latin
female given name Anna.
This in turn is a representation of the Hebrew Hannah
or Hanani, meaning 'He (God) has favored me', the name of the
mother of the prophet Samuel.”
It also means graceful, I've been told.
When I think of grace, my mind
automatically begins, “Hail, May, full of Grace, the Lord is with
thee.” St. Anne was the mother of Mary, and therefore was, when
pregnant with the Blessed Virgin, literally full of grace herself.
I think, too, especially when
considering the Old Testament story of Hannah, that (in one of those
Old Testament/New Testament correlations) both she and St. Anne were
older, essentially beyond childbearing years, when they bore their
children, gifts from God. I, who am as yet unmarried, wonder if
I, too, will be “old” when I have my children (I certainly would
have been considered such in Biblical times, or even in the 1940s, a
woman doomed to spinsterhood), should I be so blessed as to marry as
I feel God is calling me. But I suppose their fate also should give
me hope, in the sense that I too may one day be blessed as they were,
that my prayers will also be answered, my patience rewarded. A friend
told me once on a retreat that God never withholds His blessings. :)
There is a strength in waiting, a grace
and favor to accepting where God has me. A hopefulness in trusting in
His plan, His timing, which are so much more knowledgeable than my
own human plans.
Anne is actually (full disclosure
time), my middle name, although I have never been called by my first
name except by teachers who didn't know better. My first name is
Laurel, a name which is derived from the laurel tree. In a way, and
I've never thought about it before, my two names go well together
(not just in flow), but in that trees, and the wood of the laurel
tree especially, is strong, a hard wood that is not easily chopped
down. Trees also bend with the wind (provided the wind isn't of
hurricane strength), with change. In ancient Greece and Rome, victors
were crowned with wreaths of laurel leaves.
People have often thought I don't like
my first name, but that isn't true. It's a beautiful name, but my
parents simply have never called me Laurel a day in my life. Anne was
a long-standing choice, but with an Anne Marie already in the family,
and my parents unwilling to duplicate, Laurel was the
last-minute addition. For what it's worth, no one thinks I “look like” a Laurel, but
everyone thinks I do “look like” an Anne.
I was named for my great-aunt Anna Kroner, my
great-great aunt actually, my great-grandmother's sister. I remember
meeting her as a child, once sitting by her feet on a front porch in
Illinois during a summer visit. She was rather curmudgeonly, although
she and my dad were always close. She was a nurse in the 20s and
30s, and, depending on which family story to
believe, she either A) could never find a man who was good enough to
meet her highly exacting standards, or B) the man she loved broke her heart
and she never got over it.
It must run in the family, those
incredibly high standards. I have them, too, I have been incredibly fortunate, however,
in that my heart has never truly been broken. Which is a grace unto it
self and a way I have been favored indeed.
Graceful. Grace-filled. Moving with
elegance and refinement and rhythm, like a waltz. I love to waltz.
There is joy in the three-beat cadence, the gentle quarter-step
swings to the beat, but I haven't waltzed in years, other than the occasional, solitary turn around my living room. There is a longing to be dancing in a sumptuous
dress – I have dreamt of it – like classic Hollywood actresses,
women who seemed the epitome of class, there on the
black-and-white-screen. I am a romantic, and hope for that, too.
Anne
Elliot, the heroine in Jane Austen's final novel, "Persuasion," was
also older, but capable, sensible and a romantic as well. A literary
creation who loves her family despite their foibles, and another Anne
who patiently waited, trusting and receiving her heart's desire in the
end.
The literary Anne Shirley, of L.M.
Montgomery's “Anne of Green Gables,” thought her name to be very
unromantic. I am not of that mind, but we are in agreement about
one thing:
“...if
you call me Anne please call me Anne spelled with an E.’
‘What
difference does it make how it’s spelled?’ asked
Marilla
with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot.
‘Oh,
it makes SUCH a difference. It LOOKS so much
nicer.
When you hear a name pronounced can’t you always
see
it in your mind, just as if it was printed out? I can; and
A-n-n
looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks so much more distinguished.
If
you’ll only call me Anne spelled with an E.”
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